I Hike Alone

The outside is my life.

I grew up in beautiful rural Western Mass and spent a lot of time on my own in the woods as a kid, so it’s not that much of a stretch for me to hike alone on the rolling hills of Mount Tam and the Marin Headlands. Especially after work, I often take a quick spin around one of “the usuals” — loops that emanate from Tennessee Valley, the West Blithedale trailhead, or Phoenix Lake.

My boyfriend and some of my friends express alarm when I cop to hiking alone,  and I understand their worry. There are coyotes, mountain lions, and cougars on these trails; not to mention that the raccoons are pretty aggro around here. And truthfully, I am always happy for a hiking companion. I have a lot of friends who like to hike too, in theory, and so people will often suggest hiking together. To which I invariably say, Sure! But it doesn’t come together very often. Because:

1. Nearly everyone I know is a morning person. I am not a morning person. I often hike at dusk, with the coyotes and the bunnies and the owls. 
2. Californians tend to be rather loosey-goosey with what time they show up for things, and unfortunately, I am not relaxed around timing. A wise person once told me, “You should stop pretending to be laid back. You’re not, and it just confuses people.” I took this advice to heart, much to the chagrin of some of my friends, who probably wish I would at least keep pretending.
3. I am always behind on my podcasts.

But that’s okay, because the truth is, I really like to hike alone.

I love the solitude, the unfettered thinking time. I used to think of it as my personal style of meditation. But then I learned more about meditation and realized that it’s actually quite the opposite. When you meditate, the idea is to let go of thoughts and notice only your breath. When thoughts float into your mind, you simply relinquish them, and re-center.

When I hike alone, though, I let the thoughts completely take over. I sometimes indulge myself in a thought process so heavily that I don’t even realize I’ve been walking for an hour. This is how I process things. It’s how I come up with creative ideas. It’s how I work through stuff. And it’s valuable, very valuable time, for me.

Then there’s the fresh air, the communing with nature, the sights, the sounds, the aromas. The eucalyptus, the sunsets, even the ironic tranquility of the coyote howls. These are things I can experience with another person, yes, but alone, they take on an almost spiritual nature. Nature is, in fact, spirit, as naturalists all the way back to Emerson, and presumably beyond, have always known.