***** 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.