“OH SHIT,” I wrote in my journal. “All the light was just sucked out of the sky. The woods are VERY DARK.”
It was my first solo backcountry trip, and I was crouched beneath a hastily erected tarp on a tiny island in a big lake in northwestern Maine. I was terrified. From 7:00 p.m. to 3:00 a.m., the most intense storm I’d seen in my life swirled around the lake. Lightning pulsed through the clouds searching for a place to land, and the only spot it found was the small island I’d reached by kayak.
My legs shook. My heart pounded. I hugged my knees in a fetal position as lightning struck the island again and again.
When I’d embarked on this journey 14 miles earlier, the woman who issued my permit looked at me like I was crazy. It’s a look women who venture into the wilderness alone often get. We get it from our parents, from society, from the well-meaning people who issue backcountry permits. They say it without saying it: It’s not safe out there. Not for you.
Mostly, they’re wrong. Women are very capable of taking care of ourselves in the wilderness. The wild animals and crazy weather and existential doubts we experience in the backcountry are nothing compared to the dangers of the frontcountry. There, even in a friendly setting like a campground, there are people. And there’s nothing scarier for a woman who likes to do stuff alone than other people.
A few years after my solo trip in Maine, I drove across the country and spent a night in Iowa at a well-lit campground not far from the highway. I didn’t sleep at all. The people behind the glowing windows of their RVs could see I was alone, and I hid in my sleeping bag clutching a knife in one hand and my cell phone in the other. Same with a night spent camping by the side of a Forest Service road in Colorado. Up and down the road, pickup trucks and SUVs were parked next to fire circles, and people sat around them drinking beer. I was convinced some drunk guy was going to pay me a visit in the middle of the night. Every crackle of branches made me jump.
For years, I didn’t consider this fear out of the ordinary. Every independent woman I know feels it; it’s the same edginess we feel traveling alone in any city in the world. It’s part of being a woman, I thought. You have to be extra diligent. A friend who thinks nothing of hurtling down mountainsides on a bike or skis doesn’t even bother setting up a tent when she’s alone at a campground anymore; after too many sleepless nights, she sleeps in her car with the doors locked instead.
Neither she nor I nor most of my friends, fortunately, have been sexually assaulted. But we’ve all had close calls. Once, in college, someone slipped a roofie in my beer and my boyfriend carried me home, memory-less and incoherent. In a foreign country one time I woke up topless to a man shining a Maglite over my body from an open window six inches away. And like all women, I’ve been followed down streets, catcalled, hit on and made uncomfortable more times than I can count. That alone is enough to make me vigilant. I can’t imagine what the one in six American women who have been sexually assaulted feel like when they’re alone in a nylon tent.
Lately, I’ve realized these fears aren’t normal. They’re not “part of being a woman.” They’re BULLSHIT. People admonish me not to go into the wilderness alone because I might get eaten by a bear or lost in a tangle of trees. But I know how to use bear spray. I can read a map. I can hike or paddle as far and as fast as any guy, and I can wait out a lightning storm in the safest possible place. These are things I can control. The fear I feel in the frontcountry is the fear of losing that control.
On that island in Maine, I knew that whatever happened to me would be the result of my own choices, and I made good ones. At 3:00 in the morning the storm finally subsided, and incredibly, I was still alive. I danced across the wet sand barefoot, spinning under the stars while lightning flickered in the distance. The fear I experienced that night is the kind of fear anyone who spends time in the wilderness should confront. It’s the good kind of fear, the kind that makes you feel stronger afterward.
So don’t call us crazy for going into the wilderness alone. Don’t try to stop us doing something that empowers us. Help us create a world that gives more women the confidence to be alone. And unless we’re bleeding or mangled at the bottom of a cliff, if you’re a guy and you see us out there, please-just let us be. Even if you’re just trying to be nice. We don’t need your extra Clif bar. We don’t need to be asked if we’re ok. Just give us a friendly wave and keep walking, preferably in the other direction.
Krista Langlois co-founded WildStreak to inspire and support women in the wilderness.
Thank you for this line in particular “Help us create a world that gives more women the confidence to be alone. ”
Everytime I read an article about how unsafe I am alone, I wonder why I am being punished and told to stay home instead of a focus on who creates that fear in the first place.
The boyfriend carrying her home while she was roofied and incoherent was gross. Clear act of patriarchal sexism, reinforcing gender stereotypes about male strength.
I didn’t read that comment as reinforcing stereotypes. She was in trouble because someone was trying to hurt her, and thankfully there was a person there who loved her and cared about her and got her home safetly. That person in this situation happened to be her boyfriend, but it could just as easily been her sister or girlfriend carrying her home.
So should he have just left her there?? If I was ever roofied, I would hope that someone who loved and cared about me would take me home and make sure I was safe, regardless of gender… smh
Did it even occur to you that maybe she was so ‘roofied’ that she was unable to walk or even stand so that she had to be carried home? Or would you have preferred the guy left her at the party to wait until she could walk herself home with any help from the patriarchy???
I’m sorry, I will continue to tell women not to hike alone….I will continue to tell men not to hike alone…becuase solo hiking and backpacking is an unnecessary risk.
Who appointed you to be the judge of what is unnecessary? II like hiking solo. I’ve been doing it for 50 years. I’ve experienced sights and sounds and smells and adventures that you never will because you won’t take an “unncessary” risk.
I am the father of three wonderful women. all three were brought up camping ,hiking and biking. All still do them today. Whenever I say one of them is solo camping some wilderness area people say ” you let them do that alone?” I usually reply No , I encourage them
Solo camping the first time is a bit scary no matter your gender. I think it’s normal to be scared like that. It keeps you sharp.
Yes! THIS!!! I wrote a whole blog rant once about a guy who came by and asked “are you okay?”. Thanks for writing.
A someone who’s soloed a few times, not just on the trail, but also off the trail in the backwoods of Yosemite where there are just animal prints, soloing is not for everyone regardless of their sex.
These days, it’s also some what rare to find anyone who is interested in leaving the trail by themselves or as a group. Seeing someone while hiking off trail is also somewhat unusual.
IMHO, I feel safer off the trail as one is less likely to run into critters that are going to be messing with you or your campsite as they aren’t looking for trouble any more than you… But as always when hiking, be prepared. My daughter when she hikes with me off trail has ready access to a canister of bear spray.
These days, I generally feel more stressed about danger when walking around a big city with all the homeless problems than hiking in the backwoods…
What’s off trail hiking like? Check out ‘Unnamed Lake with Music” on youtube…
Homeless people are not the ones to he afraid of in the big city. This criminals are.
I’m about to take my first solo backpacking trip. My friend sent me this article and I just LOVED it. It’s empowering to hear about other women being strong and brave!
I can’t relate, but I’ll try. I’m a short trip, AT hiker and every time I encouter a through hiker, male or female, alone or in groups, I ask, “do you have everything you need?”. Genreally ‘cuz I’m carrying too much and will be out of the woods in 1 or 2 days while they may be running a caloire deficit. Usually they are fine, but on occasion I have shared water, energy bars, tweezers, etc. I guess if they REALLY needed anything, they would ask me, but…I’ve never felt a creep vibe or hung around long enough to feel unwelcome. Sometimes I think folks bring their baggage into the woods with them.
“And like all women, I’ve been followed down streets, catcalled, hit on and made uncomfortable more times than I can count.”
Nope. I am a fat ugly chick and I have never in my life been followed, approached, or hit on. I’m 57 years old. This worries me because if ever the day comes when a male is interested in me, I will not be able to tell the good dude from the bad.
I have been backpacking alone nearly every weekend for the past 40 years, including long-distance hikes abroad and in the US. Never had an issue. Maybe the key to survival is to be a fat ugly chick.
Well, I always interact with normal manners when I encounter someone out in the middle of everywhere, which may include a question of okay-ness. It has nothing to do with my sex or the sex of the person I’m address, rather the shared existence of being out-there. If I happen to interact with such a query, as I’m on my way, please take it as simple good manners and don’t assume I’m some male asshole seeking to infringe on you or do you harm. I’m simply offering a salutation, then I’ll be on my way – unless you respond that you aren’t well or do need food/water/assistance. Being male isn’t the same as being a predator. Not sure what’s up with the person who slammed the guy for helping the drugged author home safely. He would have done the same for a drugged guy, so please chill a bit.
I believe that you’d are a good man with great intentions. Unfortunately, woman can’t tell who is who. They have to assume that we are all threats. It’s not personal. It’s survival, and a desire to enjoy there existence and thrive. I also have the instinct to help, say hello, be courteous. I’m trying to listen to woman’s voices about this. I still trust that off they need something, they will say something.
I am pushing 80 and have hiked most of my adult life with dogs! I would not hike/ camp alone. Man/ woman …..either one can be ill intentioned. I was once camped off a long dirt road in VT and two young men appeared at my tent at 3AM. I emerged and there was no doubt in my mind that I needed to be very cautious. They were very creepy and to this day I am certain this did not bode well. My AKITA was with me and I quietly bent down, leashed her, and led her out of the tent. I kept her right at my side. When they say this enormous bear like black dog they turned on their heels in haste and drove off. I did report the incident to the ranger the next morning and continued to camp solo. I had another incident in that area when I was bunked with my dog at a neat shelter with bunk beds. I was solo there and a lunatic drunk idiot walked in and I walked out with my dog. His first comment was “Oh you haves a dog!” Once again Akita to the rescue. I left most of my belonging and got out to my car keeping the dog between us. A police officer was patrolling on the roads out of there and I flagged him down. By the time he arrived at the cabin the idiot had destroyed it and they had to close it down!!! He knew exactly who it was because he had caused trouble previously. I camped for years with my pups and only 2 incidents! I do believe that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure! I think it’s a good idea to always have a plan in the event that things go south!
Thank you for writing this! I want to hike and back pack for the very reasons you put into words. When I tell my friends, family and my physician, I feel safer in the back country than I do in my own home, they think something is wrong with me.
I just thought of this…….Have heard it said that people are more fearful of dogs than they are of guns. I believe this wholeheartedly. A dog who is out to ‘git ya”…. and they do sense threats, gives no warning. They snarl and lunge in one fell swoop! It takes longer to get a gun out, cock it, and finally shoot it. Way to time consuming! And if your hand is not steady because you are terrified it’s going to prolong the process. A bullet is fast but a dog sinking his teeth into you , knocking you down, tearing at your flesh, and possibly your face, this is not what most people want to deal with. Much easier for them to get out of dodge and not look back. Another bit of advice I have heard is this. If anyone asks if your dog is friendly never reply in the affirmative. My standard reply is simple and straightforward. “The dog would most definitely rise to the occasion!” I then change the subject.