Is solitary adventure therapeutic?

All the experiences shared by you guys gave me several flashbacks to my younger days when my friends and I roamed the wilds.

The sight of wild ducks leaving en masse from a swamp is an unforgettable experience. So is the sounds of a million insects coming from all directions.

The pristine smell of virginal land seems to live in a person almost forever. You can forget about what it felt like but when a whiff of that freshness enters your system, all the memories come flooding back.

I love the outdoors where there is none or very few people. It's just me and nature. Quietly with fuss, Mother Nature teaches us all the valuable lessons.


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Make Love your strongest weapon. Compassion your shield and forgiveness your armour.
 
I don't have nearly the solo time as most of you folks, longest was 7 days. But, I take all my big choices to the desert. Living just a little outside of J.Tree and being a climbing nut, I prefer the bare reality of the high desert.

I always find that when I am having a problem in life, no better way to fix it than sitting 200ft up on top of a formation looking out over the desert. Just the thought that before me, or you, or even mankind. These rocks were here. They have seen feast, famine, war and peace. They just keep on going. And they will still be going long after I am gone. Makes my problems look mighty small.

I just don't get the same feeling in a group. Being the leadman, I always find myself to busy watching out for everyone else to have too much fun.

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R.W.Clark

Proud Member : California Knifemakers Association
 
During my collegiate days in Santa Fe, I often spent entire weeks in the Sangre de Christo mountains. I was a theraputic and meditative time. More frequent were the three day weekends. Due to being broke most of the time in a school filled with rather wealthy students, I did not always fit into the picture. As a scholarship type, I was tolerated. I made due in my own way. While a large portion of the student body were out blowing their parents money on chemical alteration of reality, I was experiencing reality. Today, I still have most of my brain cells (although that is debatable in some circles) and some of the most incredible memories of moments that cannot be purchased at any price. Spending that time away taught me self reliance and an appreciation of even the most seemingly inconsequential things (ie: toilet wipe. Yea, I know, but I ain't that macho and gung ho. Trust me, I have now lived with MRE TP and have vowed never to again. Leaves, forget it. I'll say this one time. A ziplock baggy full of baby wiped has a thousand and one uses.)
Enough of my rant, y'all get the picture.'
recondoc


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Semper Fi!
Corpsman Up! Answering the call for 103 years.
Proud member of PETA (People For The Eating of Tasty Animals)
 
I recently returned from a trip that clearly showed the difference between solo time and camping with company. For a few more details on the trip see my thread entitled "hot springs, skinny dipping, sunburns, etc."

I was the lead man for a group of seven that went out to the deserts of Northern Nevada. We arrived late Friday night (early Saturday morning) and stayed most of the following week. While the main contingent of newly-inducted desert rats was present, I was mostly concerned with keeping things flowing and keeping people happy. Even when I wasn't fretting about something, there was constant noise in camp, whether it was raucous laughter, inquiries about the next day's activities, or general conversation. Don't get me wrong - I had a good time. But it was not the kind of experience that I have come to expect from the desert. It was the type of fun that comes from having a barbecue at a friend's house. The conversation was generally good, with some good philosophizing and politicizing going on. But I needed something more.

When the main contingent left on Wednesday morning and left only two of us behind for one final day, I felt like I could breathe deeply once again. We drove into a nearby town and ate some real food, then drove back to camp to relax. For me that meant a three hour walk across the desert foothills - alone. I was finally able to think clearly and to reflect on the big stuff, like how big God must be that all of this would fit into the palm of His hand.

When I returned to camp I found some small stuff to do to pass the time until evening. Then, once evening had hasted along, I walked down to the hot springs to take a dip and watch the sunset. The western horizon turned purple and crimson, then faded to gray an silver.

Two hours later I was still in the water, laying in the shallows with my head on a rock and looking upward at the sky. The half moon drenched the alkali banks of the stream with its silver light, and the sagebrush hung over the banks like an arbor in paradise. The Big Dipper positioned itself above me and pointed the way to the North Star. The air was still and warm and the water gurgled over the rocks behind me.

If even one other person had been there, I can guarantee that we would have been talking about something. Who cares what - it still would have robbed me of that moment. Even the presence of another person would have been an intrusion, even if we hadn't conversed.

For me, those moments of solitude were sacred. It was a time to think about things that I don't understand; things bigger than I could ever imagine. Like God, or creation, or how small I am in the scheme of things. Or maybe to not think at all.

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Camine con tranquilidad, sirva con humildad, y viva en paz.
 
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