Mixed Emotions Preparing for My Thailand Adventure

In two days I will be on my way to Thailand. I am overwhelmed with a mixture of emotions. This trip is primarily a climbing trip. I’ve always had this ambition and thirst for adventure, but can’t believe how far I’ve come in just a year and a half. I can thank my fairly new love of rock climbing for opening my eyes to different ways that I can experience the world. I’m an avid rock climber, and now aspiring ice climber! Just thinking about climbing brings me so much joy. I’m thankful to have been able to climb all around Colorado, three other states, and now… Thailand (with more international climbing trips already in the works).

Tonsai, Thailand is spoken about only in one way by those who have visited — with sparkling eyes and a romantic eagerness to return. It is the place many climbers fell in love with climbing. One guy named Lucas that I met told me he wandered around South East Asia until stumbling upon Tonsai, and then he stayed for months and fell in love with rock climbing. He now lives in a van so he can just travel and climb. Another couple I met from Canada while I was climbing in Red Rock Canyon, Nevada said the same thing. The climbing community is so strong in Tonsai that I am not remotely concerned about showing up and finding a climbing partner. Young limestone cliffs with juggy and overhung climbing… sounds amazing… looks amazing. Even if you were not a climber and just a tourist, you’d still want to go to this place. Railay beach is also just around the corner. 

This is not my first solo trip. Three months ago, I drove across the northern US and Canadian Rockies. In previous years, I traveled internationally to Spain, Portugal, Morocco, China, and South Korea alone. I am a 22 year old, 110 pound, 5 foot 2 inch tall female. These solo adventures are not part of the cultural norms for someone who looks like me. My mixture of emotions stems from this. I am simultaneously excited, nervous, and in disbelief that this is the life I’ve made for myself. 

What I’m most excited for however, is not the climbing and not even the culture or stunning landscapes — it’s the people. I always meet the most amazing people while traveling, and that’s one of my favorite things about traveling alone. If you have not only the desire but unstoppable ambition for adventure, I want to meet you.

When Nothing Goes As Planned

I’m a planner. I love to make spreadsheets and calulate hours/miles and the phases of the moon on road trips. I also love when things don’t go as planned, as most great adventures seem to go. That’s exactly how it went on my most recent trip to Red Rock Canyon, Nevada. 

We intended to go climb in El Potrero Chico, Mexico. Then we intended to climb in Joshua Tree National Park. On the way to Joshua Tree, we stopped on the border of Arizona and Nevada to camp and explore these magical slot canyon hot springs.

My climbing partner is rather “climbing obsessive” so he wasn’t stoked on the idea of spending a few hours at the hot springs I wanted to explore instead of heading straight to Joshua Tree. Well, my car decided not to start that morning and the kind gentleman camping nearby, Taylor, helped us jumpstart it. Oddly enough, Taylor was heading to the hot springs that day too. He was a previous zoo-keeper, then raft and mountain guide, now pilot in training, and too cool not to hang out with, so off to the hot springs we went like three peas in a pod.

We had both heard great things about Red Rock Canyon and it was only a half hour away from the hot springs, so we decided to get a half day of climbing in there before continuing on our journey to Joshau tree. Taylor highly reccomended it as well.  

It was history after we stepped foot into that park. The first people we met were a pair of Canadian #adventuretwins who helped us figure out where the crag we wanted was. Little did we know we’d be spending the rest of our days climbing with them. Great people are worth changing your plans for. 

We decided to camp outside of Red Rock Canyon that night, but to our surprise the one campground nearby was booked and nearly impossible to get a spot at. Our options were limited, it was dark, and we were tired. I thought, we don’t have anything to loose by walking up to a campfire and asking if we could share our boxed wine and space with them.

We picked the first campfire we saw, and it couldn’t have been a better one. At this campfire sat an adventurous couple in their late 30’s/early 40’s from Missoula who run the mountaineering club and have a plethora of climbing/travel/mountain experience. They had young guests from Florida who decided to drive across the country to climb, and most interestingly of all, Kentucky Pete. “I’m Kentucky Pete, climbing bum, campfire whore.” I could go on a separate tangent about all the glory that is Kentucky Pete, but I’ll save that. We joined this crew and every night after climbing turned to each other and said, “we should just stay one more night.” Eventually, we gave up the idea of Joshua Tree all together.

We all sat around this campfire the first night and shared stories, life lessons, and wine. The next night it was just us and the Missoula couple. Eventually, we took over the campsite and were the new campfire hosts. The Canadians joined us for two nights. On the last night, New Years Eve, a figure named Josh appeared from the darkness and asked if he could join us. Josh is 27 and has been doing the van life for a while, traveling and climbing. He brought gifts of whiskey and adventure tales. 

Kentucky Pete also graced us with his presence on our last night around the campfire. He said he remembered me and the life lesson story I shared and has been sharing it at other campfires. It’s a compliment to be remembered. It’s also a compliment to be interrupted when they say “wait, now that sounds like the first line in a book I want to read.” Kentucky Pete. What a character. 

Ever since the beginning of civilizations, people would gather around the source of heat and light to have community with one another. It used to be that people would alll gather around the fire, now they gather around a different source of light, the TV. 

It was beautiful to reflect on the way this same campfire evolved each night. From being guests ourselves, to becoming the hosts, to welcoming another guest who did the same thing we did. The constant was the sense of community and vulnerability among climbers who haven’t showered in days, shared puffy jacket hugs, stories, whiskey and wine. I will remain friends with these adventurous souls who we were lucky to happen upon. 

Nothing went as planned, but all went as it was meant to be. 

Two Sides of Alone

***** Written on October 23rd, 2017 *****

Today I woke up in the middle of a forest surrounded by thick fog. It was still dark out, and I was able to see stars sprinkled throughout the cloudy sky above. There was frost on my window, but I was cozy in a sleeping bag inside. I fell back asleep and didn’t wake up again until 8am, after the sun had risen. I had slept in, which was odd because I went to bed at sunset the previous night. I was disappointed that I missed the sunrise, but still content at the peaceful beauty around me. Watching the sun rise and set every day is good for your soul.

I drove the one hour from Apgar to Two Medicine in Glacier National Park, noticing how beautiful Autumn makes this part of the country and realizing that time now flies by while I’m driving. No cars or rangers were present in the park this morning. I felt surprised, lucky, and eerie all at the same time. I was completely alone for miles.

My original plan was to do a ten mile strenuous hike to a scenic view point within this side of the park, but all that echoed in my mind was voices of people worrying about me. This is grizzly bear and mountain lion country. The bears are most active this time of year preparing for hibernation. I started on the trail. It was eerily quiet. I thought about how no one would know where I was if something were to happen miles deep in the backcountry. I thought about the warning signs I read that said “hiking alone is NOT RECCOMENDED.” I looked at the down tree in the middle of the trail and thought about the hike I did last night where I got lost due to down trees. My mind battled itself with thoughts of “you came here by yourself, you knew you’d be hiking alone and you are prepared,” with other arguments trying to talk myself out of going.

I sorrowfully turned around, and for the first time on this trip, wished I wasn’t alone. 

My subaru sits alone at the trailhead of a quiet glacier national park.

Feeling defeated, I circled the park one more time hoping to see any signs of people or cars. It had come to the point where I may have asked the first person I saw if they wanted to go on a hike with me. I saw no one. Again, feeling coompletely alone, but this time from the safety of my Subaru. I thought I might as well go back to “town” and eat a good lunch. The town was barely existent and most places were closed, but I managed to find a small diner that was open. Even the locals told me I probably shouldn’t hike alone, but there were some safer, shorter walks I could do. I didn’t want to go on a walk. I crave a deeper experience of these wild spaces. I talked to my friend while I had cell service, and he encouraged me to go back out on the trail.

It was evident I was living my life in the confines of fear when I turned around on the trail. Fear hinders epic experiences, and I wouldn’t be two hours away from Canada right now if I had listened to the fear of traveling across the country alone. We’re always willing to accept more risks when we are not alone, and that’s something that has been very clear to me this last week. 

I went back to the trailhead, this time with more confidence that it was where I was meant to be. I allowed fear to take over me before, forgetting that there is a God who loves me and wants the best for me. You have heard that phrase “dance like no one is watching”? Well, I sang like no one was listening on the trail today.  I sang like my life depended on it. I made up songs that made me laugh, and suddenly didn’t feel so alone.

Just as my nerves started to settle, I heard something big move in the bushes behind me. My heart and body stopped moving. I turned around, terrified…  but acted the same way I would have if I was leading someone else on the trail and didn’t want to alarm them. I stopped just briefly enough to hear a deep growling huff and puff and that’s when I saw the dark figure and eyes in the bushes…. $#@$! I think that’s a f****** bear. Unfortunately, it was behind me and in the direction of the trailhead, so my only choice was to slowly continue deeper along the trail. With one hand on my bear spray, I walked backwards for a while to make sure I wasn’t being followed. I wasn’t, and continued on my way. After making it to a waterfall and continuing up to a high viewpoint, I decided I had gone far enough and turned back, alert of my surroundings as I made my way back to the Subaru.

***** Written on October 25th, 2017 *****

Today, I climbed to the windy, snow and ice covered summit of the first mountain I would conquer in Canada, and I was alone. People tell me “don’t do this, don’t do that, we want you to come back alive,” but are you ever truly alive if you don’t pursue the things that call you? If you never chase your dreams and your fears? Is that what you call living? I am truly alive when standing on top of a mountain that I sweat and doubted myself through. Nothing makes me feel higher on life than experiences like these, and it’s even more rewarding to know I’m not doing it for anyone but myself. It’s liberating, actually, to be completely alone and completely happy.

One thing I learned from talking to a local (thank you, Ryan!) is that the best experiences you can have might be just outside of the tourist packed Banff National Park, and that’s exactly where I went. As I drove through Canmore, the first town at the foot of the Canadian Rockies, my jaw dropped at the tall and rugged looking peaks around me. I continued to drive to the trailhead of the mountain I was going to climb, not knowing exactly which one it was, and couldn’t believe I was about to climb any of the peaks I was looking at.

Elation photo on my way down from the windy summit.

I parked at a completely empty lot, knowing I’d be alone on the trail again. After finding the trailhead, I read a notice of multiple cougar sightings in the past week along with the typical “this is grizzly country” posting. I wasn’t about to turn back due to fear, so I began another solo climb up switchbacks through a magical and misty forest. Thoughts of “why am I doing this” did cross my mind, but once the summit came into view I was overcome with giggles and stoke. I made the summit, so happy and overwhelmed by the beauty around me that I was almost moved to tears. The wind was so powerful that I feared it may blow me off the summit, so I crawled around only long enough for a few pictures before returning lower to safe standing ground in the piercing wind. After taking a few wind-shattered panoramas, I ran down the trail. Laughing the entire way down, I was elated at my achievement and that I had the right tools/gear to keep me comfortable and warm on the trail.

In that moment is when I truly realized that I just didn’t give a hoot a anymore. I was sweaty. I was dirty. I was in another country, and I had just climbed a gnarly looking mountain by myself. No one could take away the joy I was feeling, and I suddenly decided I didn’t actually care about making sure I could get strategically timed showers and have nice hair. I was living life rough out of my Subaru and it was okay to look rough and happy.

Being alone is most rewarding when you don’t let fear overcome you. You must be content with who you are and trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be.