They say don’t wheel alone, but I do and love it.

They say don’t wheel alone,  but I do and love it.

Yes, there are risks, and I remember my first night at Cabin Lake alone, a perfect place to get cell reception when you don’t want it but need it—escaping the Mosquitoes and enjoying the view from the tent with no one else around. However, feeling a bit nervous about the prospect of being eaten opted to use the phone a friend option.

Me – “are the grizzly going to eat me”?

Them  – “no.. now go enjoy it”

Me – “ok, just remember to pick up my camera if they do”

As anyone knows, Cabin Lake is bear territory, among other predators, and yes, you are pretty and tasty to them – they will cover you with pepper spray and lick It off. So thus became my weird addiction to camping alone in remote locations, natural addition to the solo wheeling I was already doing—the luxury of going places in perfect solitude – overlooking the shore of a lake.  Having the selfish opportunity to have that spot in the world all to myself, those mountains all to myself, the butterflies there all to myself and chasing grasshoppers through the long grass in the fields of the Chilcotin all to myself.

At that single moment of “go enjoy it,” I received permission to do the most fantastic thing in this world.  Validating my right and ability to do this as a solo overland expeditioner. And, as a female as well – even rarer, why I needed that validation? Well, like many of us – we tend to doubt our abilities to find solutions to problems. I am no different than anyone out there, just I’ve learned the payback is much greater than the risk.

See, here is the secret until you throw yourself into that fire and have issues, you will never know what you are capable of doing. No one ever learned by playing it safe; not all my trips have gone perfect. Driveshafts have blown, tires losing to the shale battle, and WTF is that noise coming from the jeep! And, don’t forget the OMFG, IT WON’T STAY ON THE ROAD OVER 60! Luckily, I’ve come back alive from every one of them.

Last Saturday, I was able to make a long-overdue solo journey to one of my “churches,” the Nahatlatch Fire Lookout. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the jeep to the top, so I parked and hiked up the last 3,424 steps in the snow to install the moose toilet paper holder in the outhouse.

With each step up through the snow, I was able to listen to the birds around me and be grateful that the tracks of the deer in front of me were deer, not bear or cougar.  Enjoying the thud of the sound as the snow fell off the trees, I felt the fresh flakes touch my skin as the soft breeze blew them off the branches.

Curiosity striking as I noticed the snow to my left had a different texture than the right-thinking must be because it was impacted more by the sun. Meanwhile, my heart beating a little faster when I heard something rustle, thinking…

 “Oh god, is it time? This is it. I’m going to be eaten!”

As I crested the road and saw the tower through the trees, it hit me on why I can not find peace in a city, nor among others, but only when in solitude.

Nahatlatch had held so many memories for me, first standing on the steps about 2008 when the original still stood.  Then, a few years later, in 2012, I’d spend a weekend there, helping to rebuild it, hanging out with friends making the impossible happen. Being called She Women when I lifted the windows to the guys as they installed them. Then a few years later, joining up a team to maintain it, I still have those jeans covered in the white paint from the railing.

Then, of course, the day my friend ended up with his eyebrows singed from a gust of wind at the wrong time. Besides my solo trip’s up there, there have been other memories with friends over the years, several day trips, several camping there. All of the memories that people have created there, and when I flip through the pages of the guest book and know that I helped make every one of those memories happen, it brings this quiet moment of pay-it-forward gratitude. To know that you helped people find a destination that would change their life by forever etching a memory in it, to see that you left a legacy that pays it forward, is the most humbling experience you can have.

My challenge with wheeling with others is that you don’t get those moments because you can’t indeed find quiet. Likewise, you can’t find solitude when there are others around you – you can only ever find pure reflection and understanding what is truly around you when alone, raw and vulnerable. But there is a balance to be had, as without having others, you miss some of the unique locations that aren’t safe to do solo.

Yes, doing it on my own may be dangerous, and one day I may get eaten by that grizzly bear.  But that’s ok; I made my peace with it that night at Cabin Lake back in 2012. When would be genuinely vulnerable for the first time since being a child, but the chance of risk is the same as dying in a car accident, or  It’s interpreted differently because people’s perspectives fear the unknown and fear facing fear alone.

But those risks can be mitigated, like wearing a seat belt (yes, wear it wheeling, or if you take a picture, someone may notice that seat belt sign is lit up and get lectured, even though the truck was stopped). Get a SPOT, VHF, learn basic fixes, take emergency food, pick up a shotgun, and learn to use it.

Because those other things that you are at risk for – like the car accident or plane crash; well, in general, going to the grocery store doesn’t change your soul and grow and evolve you like being a solo wheeler. The lessons learned in self-sufficiency, resilience, overcoming obstacles, confidence and finding inner peace can only be understood when truly alone and allowed to reflect.

This shows itself in that I realized a few years back that I don’t want the world to see me when it comes to pictures or stories. I only want them to see what I see through my eyes. That’s why there are virtually no pictures of me. It is this reason that it has always been so important to me to dedicate so much of my life in helping build this positive legacy in the world – for I see beauty in every element of our earth – in that ant crawling across the log and needing to rescue him from the paint, in the frog looking to the side and getting to share that moment with him. Even in the traumas of the world, beauty can be found.

The ability to evolve and have that part of the world to myself is far more valuable than any other experience developing my soul(ok, potentially on par with travel to a foreign country). So yes, some trips will be with others; however,

What will the next few years bring me? I’ve got a drone now, so my perspective will be changing on finding the beauty in the decay around us, as I want to explore the forest fire areas and how regrowth is shaping them.  The beauty of the Elaho. Valley River. The sereneness and striking colours of the Chilcotin, the Kootenays and wherever else those four tires, or my two feet, will get me

Whatever it brings me, one thing is known,  it will bring peace and intimate moments with the butterflies and frogs, perhaps pester a squirrel or two, and if I’m lucky enough – to finally fly with the eagles.