The wilderness is valued first and foremost for its intrinsic beauty. There are things hidden away in nature that transcend anything humans could imagine up on our own. But I believe there is a second inherent treasure of the wilderness- its serenity and solitude. There is no other place that offers an escape from the synthetics and relentless obligations of urban life. Being in a pristine environment can undo much of the tension and unrest accumulated in everyday life. The wilderness is not just an escape but a cure.
Sometimes the best way to experience this outdoor release is alone. That's why I continually choose to overlook the many warnings against solo hiking. Whether it's the official website of a national park, a sign at the trailhead, or a word from a friend, the message is always the same: don't hike alone. But as an adventurous individual seeking solitude, what am I to do? Is the freedom found in solo hiking worth the risk?
The day before Christmas I found myself trudging through unanticipated snow in New Mexico's Sandia mountains. I had planned for a moderate 8-mile hike that would take me up the mountain and then north on the crest trail to the tram that would take me down the mountain. However, at the top I discovered the crest was covered in knee-deep snow. Because the west-side cliffs of the Sandias transition into a smooth eastern slope, the snow I encountered was not visible from the trail head at the base of the mountain. Although I was unprepared- I would have done anything for snowshoes, crampons, or skis- I was reluctant to turn around. The canyon I had come from was a forest of dead, diseased trees that were falling down in dangerous numbers. The Forest Service warnings were urgently posted at the trailhead and online, and even more convincing were the constant creaking sounds and freshly fallen trees blocking the path. In that first moment on the crest trail, I weighed the risks and decided I'd rather tromp through snow. About half an hour later, that decision began to look more and more like a bad one. The trail became indistinguishable in the face of trees and snow, and I began second-guessing my instincts.
From an outside perspective, it would appear that my predicament was compounded by the fact that I was alone. But instead, being alone was an opportunity to put my training and common sense to the test. I was forced to talk myself through momentary panic and fine-tune my sense of direction. I looked for details to identify the trail: blades of otherwise randomly strewn tall grass leaning inward, fallen trees that were sawn in half by the Forest Service versus those that were broken naturally, and carved initials on trees. I encountered a single set of crampon tracks that at times was extremely helpful but would then randomly disappear into coniferous thicket.
After several hours of directional and physical struggle, I heard the much-welcomed sound of the tram in the distance. I exited the forest with one last sinking step, exhausted yet relieved.
A few hours later, the distress I had felt was long forgotten. All I could think of was how exciting and satisfying the trek had been.
Adventuring alone involves risk. But that does not mean one should forego the peace and pleasure produced by being alone in nature. It does, however, require that the individual be aware of the risks, and most importantly, be prepared for them. Not all outdoor danger is avoidable, but a well-prepared person has more control over what happens to him or her in the wilderness than any of the endless possible outcomes of urban life that one is not prepared for, such as car accidents.
To be well-prepared for a solo hike, or any hike for that matter, The Ten Essentials List created by The Mountaineers (www.mountaineers.org) is a good place to start. However, carrying with you a sound mind, sufficient knowledge and good navigation skills are some essentials that could save you from ending up in a situation where fire, emergency shelter and extra food and water are necessary.
Hiking solo is not for everyone, but for those thirsty souls wanting a quiet place to drink in nature’s glory and process life, wandering alone in the wilderness may be a destination in and of itself.
The Sandia Mountains in Albuquerque New Mexico are home to a network of trails, including a 30+ mile Crest trail. It is also home to the world's longest tramway. Take the tram up and hike on the crest, or hike up and take the tram down. In winter, enjoy the ski area and nordic/snowshoe trails.
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