This summer I found myself craving quiet and seeking out alone time. There is and has been a lot on my mind and I can’t really process through it all if I am surrounded by other people.
For this reason, when I found myself down a camping buddy and with a reserved campsite, I decided to go it alone and camp solo for the weekend. Technically the pup was with me so I was not truly alone.
I wanted to prove something to myself – that I am capable and self-sufficient when I need to be. I also wanted to soak in the sounds of the forest without the clutter and noise of other people. You could say I embarked on my very own, watered down version of Walden.
I arrived at my site later than intended, with nightfall not far off and clouds threatening rain. After hauling the essentials up to the tent pad, I hurriedly set up the tent. Success! I had shelter and not a drop of rain…yet.
Right around here is where I started to feel a wee bit overwhelmed. “Here I am,” I thought, “hours from home, just me and Lucy. What am I doing?”
<<<CUE THE RAIN>>>
The first few drops sent me and the pup into the tent. Though it was early by my night owl hours, I crawled in to the sleeping bag, snuggled with my pup, and took a few deep breaths.
Soon my tent became a cocoon filled with the warm glow of the lantern and contented sighs from a comfortable Lucy. I took my lament from earlier and turned it on its head. There I was, “just me and Lucy” listening to the gentle patter of rain drops.
…
Saturday morning sun filters in all orange and yellow and welcoming. I am greeted by birdsong and sunlight, a dreamy combination. By now I am committed. Any fleeting thought I entertained the night before about packing it in early are gone.
This is too delicious, too lovely, to abandon. I am giddy with a sense of accomplishment and grateful for the quiet. I am in no rush to return to a world where I need to be so much for so many people, a world where I feel like I am merely treading water.
I am staying. I may never leave.
…
Obviously I elected to come home at the weekend’s end. I enjoyed my time so much, I plan on making a solo outing annually, if not more often. The sense of accomplishment has stayed with me. The s’more I ate Saturday night was the best s’more I ever tasted because I toasted the marshmallow over a fire that I built and tended. My journal is swollen with musings and personal writing. I got lost in a book with no regard to time and place. Most importantly, I was still, quiet and listening, for long stretches of time. I heard the rustle of leaves and the trickle of water, and felt the heat of the sun and the weight of a sleeping dog on my lap. I admired how the late afternoon sun cast a magical glow on everything it touched – my tent awash in a golden hue, spider webs like delicate, iridescent lace, and the slow-to-form linear shadows of the trees slicing through the forest.