Being alone 2005 and 2013

I had been in a bit of a funk for the last few weeks.  Actually, probably for the past few years, but it hadn't gotten this anti-social and grumpy in awhile.  I found myself dreading going to work, not wanting to see friends that I really love because I just didn't have the energy, and spending a lot of time at home watching Lost on netflix and trying to figure out how to get netflix to work on my now outdated super sleek computer that I'm currently writing this on, a gracious gift from my parents who don't seem to use it much anymore now that they both have i-pads and i-phones (I'm still in flip phone denial land).  There weren't a whole lot of things bringing me up, I didnt feel depressed but I was on my way to just being really bummed out.  So I did a lot of thinking about what might get me out of the "funk".  I knew that I had an upcoming vacation on the way to meet up with my folks in California and hang out in Napa for a few days drinking wine, eating food, and getting some actual quality time together not on the phone (we only get to see each other twice a year).  But I felt like I needed something immediate and it wasn't helping working in the garden, cooking food, meeting up with friends and trying to have drinks and engaging conversation.  I had turned into the friend that doesn't give back-the taker I guess.

When I feel like this, I need something challenging, a test of myself to see what I've got inside me and try to get back to connecting with the version of myself that I love-a solo.  I've done a few overnight solos before in the backcountry, but never with extended travel involved and never in a place I have never been before.  Ever since I moved to Utah, I'd been craving a backpacking trip in Cedar Mesa by myself but never found the time, always prioritized other things, and also lost my nerve a few times at the last minute.  I was going for it this time, just 3 days, 2 nights alone, traveling around 23 miles in that time.  A pretty easy walk through Grand Gulch, via Kane Gulch entry and Bullet Canyons exit.  The trip itself was amazing and a few weird things happened that I might write about in a later post, but what I thought about in the long evenings I spent alone was, I wonder how I felt, what I wrote and thought about the last time I did this for real, in 2005, on my Outward Bound course that led me into the job I have now.  I pulled out my old journal that still sits on the top of my bookshelf, in an effort to remind myself that I am inspired, strong and courageous.  Here is what I said in 2005, at Ice Lake, in Montana at the foot of one of the most beautiful, cool lakes and jagged peaks I'd ever camp at.  Word for word, a few selections:

July 22, 2005

I awoke this morning a couple of times because of some light rain and then the sound and feeling of the wind rushing down the peaks that tower over me.  Last night's sleep was overall very comfortable and I feel rested but still in need of more rest this morning.  It's really interesting.  I came into this solo experience filled with anxiety and afraid of the possibility of a repeat of my last solo.  However, after a good night's rest and an hour or so of contemplation this morning, I feel a lot better about where I am in this moment.  Whenever  I start to feel lonely, I remind myself that in ten hours or so from now I will be again going to sleep to awake to another morning and then to be reunited with my group tomorrow afternoon.  I keep hearing jets and planes flying overhead above the overcast cloud cover which seems to be breaking up as the day goes on.  I keep thinking these plane are thunder but then I realize what they are and relax again.

Three or so pages of lists of places I want to go, careers to take, jobs to pursue, places I've been,

I am so surprised that this day has gone so well and feel blessed to be under this sky that is supplying sunlight and a cool breeze.  I am so lucky and extremely fortunate to be where I am right now, allowed to have 36 hours to take for myself and to rest and heal my body before more course activity begins again....I wonder what I will hear from underneath my tarp tonight...Today I have been blessed with light, last time I was blessed with the challenge of darkness and found my weakness.

Two pages of contemplation on death and dying (not ready to share that).

Nighttime seems to be taking forever to come and although I am probably already tired enough to fall asleep I kind of want to see night descend before I go to bed.

END

When I read this again recently I realized, that 8 years ago though I had never been alone in the backcountry before, I thought the same thoughts I do now, of time and its slow pace, of what happens to us when we leave this world, of noticing the beauty around me and how small I feel in it, of confronting loneliness and dealing with it.  Here is something I wrote in Cedar Mesa:

April 21, 2013

Manageable day so far.  My knee hurts so I'm resting until dinner and then hope to hike to the Todie Canyon ruins this evening.  My campsite is small and protected and I don't think I'll setup my tarp tonight (I did set it up eventually-a semblance of protection and security).  Not freaked out or sad so far today, a bit lonely but enjoying the solitude.  I wonder though if other people will come by.

This evening-is it evening (I don't wear a watch) I think it might be around 5-6 pm though the angle of the sun might suggest that I am enjoying the middle of the day.  I feel lonely.  I think the hardest thing about coming out  here alone (and the whole point) is the relative inaccessibility of other people, though I know there are other groups in here.  I had sort of wished that I might see someone come through here-where are they getting their water if not here?

I can do this, just need to let the fear in and then let it go.

Photo of me on course in 2005

The most striking thing to me reading through the entirety of my journals entries from these solos, was that I seemed much stronger when I was younger, but I didn't have the memory and experience of heartache, love gained and lost, and coming face to face with the realities of life versus what you dream it will be like.  All I had were hopes and dreams and no real experience to test those, to see where they might go and how they might develop.  And I had crushes and infatuations, not people I actually loved and then who slipped away from me as if I'd never had them in the first place.  What I went into Cedar Mesa looking for was that person I was, to connect with her and force her to take the reins and lead me down the right path.  But she doesn't exist anymore, so I can't refind her.  All I can do is face who I am now, and look in the right direction hopefully led by those long evenings spent thinking and long night spent dreaming of mountain lions and Indians appearing before me and dreams I thought I lost but that are still there.