Patrick, of the Hawk Owl's Nest, provided this story about a birder/photographer who got into a serious spot of trouble while out by himself. Now I was all set to write a post about how one should never bird or hike or whatever alone, and then realized that I'm in no position to take that stance.
You see, I like getting out by myself. As much as I enjoy the company of others I love the solitude of being in wild spaces on my own. Solitude is powerful, and getting rarer and rarer these days. I realize of course, that there is risk in travelling by myself, but I try and minimize it. Someone always knows where I am going, and when I expect to be back. And I try and be aware of where the risks are, and how I need to keep those risks away. Still it is easy to be distracted, and even a simple misstep could mean injury, and on a longer trip injury can greatly complicate things.
But I'll take those risks, for I've always liked tramping the woods and the quiet places by myself from time to time. Because of it I know the thrill of listening to wolves howl as darkness closes in on a long walk back to the road. I know quiet unbroken by human sounds. But more importantly I know more about me. Ralph Waldo Emerson knew very well the importance of solitude, and wrote "It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinions; it is easy in solitude to live after your own."
Just be careful doing it.
Comments
6 responses
Kia ora Clare,
Interesting subject. Many years ago I had a friend with whom I spent a lot of time in the mountains and he ended up moving to Korea. At that point I started tramping by myself in some fairly rugged country for days at a time, and still do. As you wrote, solitude is very powerful, and I respond to that strongly. Even after years of solo tramping I still always feel a bit of anxiety beforehand, and being alone builds a natural sort of temperance for me as well in not getting over my head. There are always risks, but there are also always rewards. Fortunately I have an understanding wife.
Cheers,
Robb
Thanks Robb,
I think there is much virtue in solitude, even on a shorter walk. Sitting alone on Uluksan Point, a short walk here from town, gives it a whole different feel, for me anyway, than going there with my family. Both are activities I love, both are very different even though it is the same space.
I never hike alone. Luckily, Roger and I like to hike in the same places and keep about the same pace. One of the things we notice when we do invite others to hike with us, is that a lot of folks like to talk when they’re hiking. We don’t. We’re very quiet. That quietness is the essence of the walk. How else to hear the birds? Or not scare the bobcat or coyotes before we’ve even seen their tails disappear into the bushes?
I have always thought it wasn’t particularly safe to hike alone for a lot of reasons. When you get into trouble alone, you’re alone. Some of the places we hike are in mountain lion habitat. A lone hiker back there can be a mighty tasty morsel.
I spend a fair proportion of my time in the mountains alone (and will be doing so later today). Consequently, I’ve thought a lot about the arguments for and against tramping (hiking) alone, and I don’t believe it’s as clear cut as many people believe. I won’t go into a long-winded discussion, but one of the major points is that when one tramps alone, one is (or certainly should be) far more aware of the consequences of an accident, and that awareness instills greater caution. When tramping with others, it’s very easy to leave decisions about safety to ‘someone else’, and unless that ‘someone else’ has been clearly identified and charged with ensuring the safety of the party, it’s possible — even likely — that no one will speak up for fear of being seen as a wimp, or simply because they assume ‘someone else’ is looking after the decisions.
Tragedies are not always the result of sudden accidents where companions could have helped. Sometimes, as in many cases of death by hypothermia, they arise because stronger party members fail to notice symptoms developing in people who would otherwise have turned back or sought shelter long before, but have pushed themselves too hard because they didn’t want to spoil the trip for the others.
This is already getting long-winded, so I’ll close by saying going alone is not always more dangerous than going accompanied, and it has rewards — as you and Robb have pointed out — that should not be denied to those prepared (in all senses) to seek them.
I like what Pete has to say about lone hiking. I’m sure he’s got that right. In many ways, I don’t hike alone because I don’t trust myself to make the right choices in a situation that requires quick thinking. Also, as a small woman, I feel particularly vulnerable out there, and never because of animals or accidents, but because of other humans. I actually have always admired people who could take to the trails alone.
I have to add that as a twin, I wasn’t even alone in the womb. Being alone is not in my genes!
This probably requires a fuller post, but in essence I agree with Pete’s take on the thing. I don’t think that the danger increases so much as the ability to extricate one self from the problem increases while alone.
Accidents some times happen. And a badly twisted ankle or broken bone can be much more problematic if you are by yourself. My satellite phone somewhat mitigates that but it is no guarantee. The fall that injures me, might also injure my phone.
All in all, I like to think of myself as both capable and competent when it comes to the solo adventures I take.
I remember back when I dove, that I always had a great desire to dive by myself, but that the dictum “Never Dive Alone” was constantly drilled into your head. I then read an article that advocated diving alone, under certain qualifications, and was startled by a statistic that showed that diving with three people, was more risky than diving with two, for a multitude of reasons.
When I ran out of air at 40 feet, my chances increased because I dove with a buddy and we were able to buddy breathe to the surface BUT I had run out catching up with him after he misunderstood my signal that I was low on air and we needed to exit. I turned up, he turned down.
Later on I dove by myself on a couple of occasions, including a night dive. Perhaps risky, but amongst the most powerful dives I ever did.