I am not shy, but I am elusive. I like one-person tents and journaling. I can hike for hours without saying a word. I am the one most likely to disappear from the group after the camp dishes are done and the food bag is hanging neatly from a branch, lines pulled tight and knots securely fixed. I will be sitting on a rock, arms around my legs, chin resting on my knees.
I always thought my barriers would go down, scraped raw by adventure and the truth it reveals.
But they have not.
On an Outward Bound Semester in Alaska, I kept my cards so close to my chest that my teammates expressed their frustration by joking that I had the advantage over everyone else in the mountaineering section because I had been practicing self-arrests my entire life.
Sam lowered me into a crevasse and then later told me I was more willing to trust others with my life than with my thoughts. “What are you so afraid of?” he asked.
But I didn’t feel afraid; I felt emotionally depleted, my nerves fraying against the knife edge of eight other people pressed up against me at all times. At night, we slept three to a tent, listening to wolves circling the perimeter of camp. By day, we were stuck on a raft negotiating remote sections of river or roped together while crossing glaciers, crevasses rippling underneath thin layers of snow. There was no escape, no chance to wander off, no place to shut the door.
Halfway through our expedition, we sat in a circle and wrote out “pros and grows” for one another. Danielle told me it’s okay to show emotion. Chris said not to zone out as much. Sam asked me to express myself more freely, to trust that others would respect and love me more for it. They all said I was too quiet. I wanted to tell them to wait. The way they wait for the weather to clear or the waves to settle or the sun to rise or the water to boil.
Sitting at the base of a tree with my head against the trunk, I tried to chase the words out of my chest, to find the answer to the question, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” I told them all. “I just like to be alone.” When the dishes were done and the food bag stowed, I went to the edge of the shore to skip rocks. I could hear them talking and laughing, playing card games and looking at the map. I threw a rock along the water’s surface, watched it skip twice and then sink.
When I am pushed, the words disappear. My head become a blank piece of paper. Not even the mountains can change that. When I am told to, “speak up,” I shut down. I wear my introversion like a shield. I crave the silence of being alone in the woods, the way it falls around my shoulders. Being stuck in a group, even the best group, is difficult for me. I can’t tune others out and my overactive mind processes and analyzes everything. I retreat because I am exhausted. I need a space without words, a space to close the door. A space that most expeditions and adventures don’t easily allow.
I have struggled to find the balance between accepting who I am and pushing myself beyond the comfort zone of my solitude, to balance my love of adventure and connection with my need for silence and space. The adventures I love most are laced tightly between the risk of avalanches and long falls, the recirculating holes and entrapments of rivers moving like freight trains. My physical vulnerability requires an ally, someone to balance out the risk, to negotiate the hazards, to pull me out of the wreckage when nature’s hand falls hard against my fragile heartbeat. My emotional vulnerability requires space.
The risk of adventure puts me in the position of having to find a way to cultivate my own peace within the dynamics of a group. It forces me to rely on those around me, to go in pairs or groups, to literally tie myself to another person. And that makes me nervous. Not because I don’t trust others to catch me when I fall, but because I know it won’t be long before the group dynamics sap my energy completely and I retreat within myself, trying to find a way to recharge.
Sam told me to express myself more freely, to trust that others would love and accept me more for it, but my reserve is not just a trust issue. My heart is willing to slip out of the shadows and into the light of the campfire ring, but it takes time. Time for trust, but also time to recharge, time to be silent, to organize the events of the day and process the emotions welling up within me.
I am cautious and careful. I like people, I enjoy their company, but I choose my adventure partners slowly, needing those who are at home with the inevitability of my silence. Because no matter how much I enjoy someone’s company, I will always want to slip away. I will always need a space to shut the door of my heart and swallow the key. No matter how long I’ve known someone, no matter what the adventure might be, I will always find myself circling the perimeter of camp, my eyes locked on the horizon, my words tucked neatly under my tongue, my heart grateful for those who can let me go, who understand my propensity to wander off in search of silence, knowing that eventually I’ll come back to the group.
I always do.
Photo by Iswanto Arif
Adventure Journal doesn’t accept sponsored content, native advertising, or paid reviews. Here’s why.
The AJ staff is smaller than you think. Here’s a peek behind the scenes.
Here’s why Adventure Journal was launched and how we follow ethical business and publishing practices.
Adventure Journal in print is like Adventure Journal online x 100—and print stories can only be found there. Subscribe to get it now—we guarantee you’ll love it.
The bro culture which is so much a part of most outdoor pursuits is completely lost on me. I head to the back country to get away, to recharge and in the company of a group I often wish the trip was over and I was back home. My companions never understand. Over the years I have simply learned to go solo whenever possible. Thanks for so gracefully articulating the conflicted thoughts of an introverted adventurer. Nice to know I am not alone in needing to be alone.
Nikki,
Unfortunately, people see someone that is quiet and immediately think that something is wrong, that there is something that needs to be fixed, especially in the realm of Outdoor Education such as OB or NOLS. I also consider myself an introvert and find it difficult at times to be around people who do not understand that. In Outdoor Education, it is a goal to express yourself with others, learn to trust, and to share things about yourself with the group. I believe that it is not always necessary to share everything, all the time and when you do not, the group can sometimes be offended, in a way. It nothing is truly “wrong”, then there is noting to share. The backcountry is a place made for an introvert. It is meant to be a sanctuary, a place to be silent…That is a big part of what draws us there.
It’s so beautifully written, Nikki. Loved it.
Beautifully expressed. Thank you
Mmmm Hmmm. This article. Speaks volumes.
Thank you. You are welcome to come adventure silently with us anytime. The earth speaks many ‘languages’, most of which do not use words…
Great post that I think any introverted traveler can relate to! While I am not opposed at all to small-group travel, I think it’s important to consider the group dynamic. Introversion/extroversion are overlooked personality traits from pretty much every group travel company, despite the fact – as you so eloquently point out – that our personality traits can absolutely affect how we interact and experience group travel.
Well expressed Nikki Hodgson. The problem is the chatterboxes that can’t switch off their mouths and absorb the natural silence around them. They’re too busy talking and don’t realize they are dragging along that which the rest of us are trying to get away from. As a park ranger, I have the same issues with some of my co-workers. Sigh….. Nature speaks with its many sounds but only to those who have senses to listen. Be polite, excuse yourself, and step away from the babbling crowd!
Thank you for putting in to words what I have so often felt.
Thanks Nikki for sharing what many of us feel. I can identify only too well with your feelings. I too prefer solitude (it’s not loneliness). But sometimes we do need someone else on the end of the rope as you say. My solution for finding solitude in a group situation without raising eyebrows amongst the others was/is to write a daily journal. It just gave me an excuse to “get a bit of fresh air” peace- with my own thoughts with which I put pen to paper. Nobody in the group thought I was strange; infact I think they may have been slightly, well, not jealous,but respectful that each day I had an added dimension to the journey. And of course here at home I can re live those journeys with the aid of my journals. We all need ‘me time’.
Beautiful. I understand completely. Thank you for expressing this.
I use to belong to a bushwalking club here in Australia, and the reason I left after 3 group walks is because of the noise! The endless, meaningless, boring, mind-numbing chatter – people (some people), can never seem to be silent. Walking in the bush should be a joyful experience, not one to endure, and not one whereby you have to plug in earphones to gain some silence! Great article, thanks for sharing… 🙂
Ha, yup:))
I thought of all these responses this morning as I watched a groovy School of Life video on “The Need to be Alone.” I dug it’s lack of defensiveness and frank look at why some people value space to process what less evolved people frankly miss altogether (“You think too much” “Lighten up!”)
https://youtu.be/XENTaHpbb74
Such a beautifully written article. I can relate. Thank you.
Wonderfully written – this rings true for me as well. Thank you for putting it to paper.
Yes, a lovely article, that no doubt will resonate with many people. As an outdoor person and an adventure, I can absolutely relate to what you are expressing, because, more often than not, at the end of an active day with people, I like and need to have alone, “me” time.
As a long time Outward bound instructor, a guide, and now a Tour guide, I also understand, that it is expected, that in the group, everybody participates. It is also normal, that the group members, even the instructor/ facilitator, believe, that something is wrong, when a group member just leaves, or refuses to “share”.
I trust, that every group would accept an explanation, that you need some alone time after an active day with the group. In any case, you can always give the group something, without making them worry and make yourself wulnerable.
If even that is too much- it may be wiser not to put yourself in s position, when group participation and “sharing” is built into the Program as its integral part- as it is in Outward Bound.
This was so beautifully written. I could almost feel myself being there with you because I feel the same way. I am so often asked what’s wrong or that I should speak up more. It’s been so much that I start questioning if there is something wrong with me. So thanks for this because it helps me know I’m not alone and there really isn’t anything wrong with me, it’s just who I am.
Thanks for putting to words what I have felt for so long.
it’s always a bit odd when people tell you that you should speak up more and then proceed to talk nonstop pausing only to take a breath. it takes all kinds and ain’t that a beautiful thing.
There are few things as precious as space, time, peace, quiet and solitude in nature. Great piece!
Thank you for articulating what I haven’t been able to. This is the main reason why I tend to go solo. Unfortunately, because of safety, I have to skip some trips I’d like to do because having a family and going solo are not an option for me.
Thank you for sharing and expressing what so many of us can’t.
Thank you Nikki. You really capture the feelings of those of us who are true introverts. And I love that you use the word “recharge” in your piece. That is really the key. It’s not that introverts don’t like people; its that being alone is how they relax and recharge their energy. Extroverts get their energy from being around people and often imagine that most everyone is like them. But in fact you capture many of our feelings beautifully when you write, “I felt emotionally depleted, my nerves fraying against the knife edge of eight other people pressed up against me at all times.” That’s what it’s really like for me when I spend too much time in close contact with too many people.
As many others before me said, THANK YOU for this piece of writing. This article completely articulates why I venture solo on more occasions than not. The whole point of the solo hike or adventure for me is observing natural beauty and the gain of personal rejuvenation. The “recharge” is key to sustain healthy and profitable relationships with others.
This is so me. Thank you for putting this into words.
You are most definitely not alone in this feeling
Didn’t someone write a book a few years back that suggested that society was screwed up in thinking that people are supposed to be yakking the whole time? The yakkers think we quiet folks are the problem, but it’s really the other way ’round. I might be able to track down the title, if you’re interested. I work in a library.
Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking
Good read when alone in the backcountry : )
Well written article Nikki! I can totally relate to your feelings and share the difficulty of balancing alone and group time as well as the challenge to find adventure partners. I find that for me, a thrive better when I am only with one person, rather than a large group or even two other people. Thank you for writing this!