Via California - Summer 2019 - 27

LYUBA BURAKOVA/STOCKSY

Last November,

in need of a mental
reboot, I cleared five days on my calendar, tossed some
clothes into the car, and took off on a solo road trip before
I could change my mind.
As I hurtled south from my home in Colorado and into
the New Mexican desert, the landscape opened wider, from
the colorful buttes and charcoal hills that Georgia O'Keeffe
painted to arid flatlands where mountain ranges rear up like
dragon tails. Something about the bare desert invites my
mind to untangle.
By the time I arrived in Truth or Consequences, N.M.,
a historic, artsy hot springs town, night cloaked the land.
At one of the lodges, an attendant drew me a fresh mineral
bath in a spring-fed pool lit by a single candle. I sank in,
closed my eyes, and felt the luxurious ease that comes from
not having to take care of anything or anyone. This is the
gift of being alone and away.
Just the night before, I had wondered if this was such
a good idea. It happens every time I travel by myself:
Doubts start simmering. Will I be safe? Will I be lonely?
But come morning, optimism returns, and I remember
the thrill of solitude in motion-a rush I've known many
times-and off I go.
For me, solo trips are more than vacations. They are
journeys of discovery, both inward and outward. They
afford a freedom you don't get when traveling with others. By myself, I've been all over, from Alaska to the
Appalachian Mountains, Romania to Bhutan. And I'm not
the only one. About one in four travelers went solo in 2018.
A recent survey by British Airways of women in eight countries (the United States, United Kingdom, Brazil, France,
Germany, Italy, India, and China) found that almost 50 percent of them have taken a vacation by themselves; 75 percent planned to do so in the future.
"As more people live, eat, and travel alone, more travel
companies and restaurateurs are finding ways to cater to
them-which in turn is making going alone easier and more
commonplace," says Stephanie Rosenbloom, the New
York-based author of Alone Time: Four Seasons, Four Cities,
and the Pleasures of Solitude. "Traveling solo nowadays is for
anyone who wants it-singles, partners, parents-regardless of age or situation."
Still, traveling alone can seem intimidating. Some of my
friends raise their eyebrows when I tell them I'm heading
off solo, as though I were brazenly flouting all notions of
what is sane and smart. It's not that challenges don't arise,
but more often than not, they resolve themselves.

36-38caMJ19_SOLOTRAVEL.indd 37

On your own, you can linger
when and where you want.

In Quito, Ecuador, for example, I felt daunted by the
prospect of using my rudimentary Spanish to find a bus to a
remote lodge. But once I boarded, I found fellow travelers
going to the same destination. Another time I felt a little
spooked as the only guest in a historic bed-and-breakfast in
rural North Carolina-only to have a lovely rambling conversation with the proprietor. My unease melted.
One way to test the waters is to enlist with an organized group tour as a single. Several years ago, I joined
one such group on a trip through Turkey. In the course of
hot air ballooning over the ancient caves of Cappadocia,
hiking up precipitous mountains, and sea kayaking along
shores dotted with ruins, I made fast friends. You can also
plan a short solo jaunt, then meet up with a companion
for further adventures.
Traveling by oneself also opens the door for experiences
and encounters that would never happen otherwise. Senses
heighten, curiosity grows; I feel more present and alive.
Without the strictures of a schedule or a companion's preferences, I have spent hours shooting the breeze in the hot
shade with an old cowboy in Texas. I have lingered over tea
with people I'd just met in countless cafés across the world.
It can feel as though the world is smaller and friendlier than
you would ever guess from reading the news at home.
There's also, of course, the simple pleasure of one's
own company. During my trip in November, I woke up
in a campground in Guadalupe Mountains National Park
in Texas. I drank my morning tea while staring up at the
brilliant foliage that blanketed the mountains. Unhurried,
I eventually set off hiking. Following a dry riverbed of polished alabaster-hued stones, I entered a forest aglow with
the pigments of fall. It was so unexpectedly spectacular
that I felt giddy.
Deep in the canyon, I sat down to soak up the silence.
I had nowhere to be, nothing that needed to be done, and
no one to talk to-and I couldn't have been happier. ●
kate siber lives in Colorado and also writes for Outside
and National Parks.

3/26/19 3:05 PM

Via California - Summer 2019

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