Lessons.

48+ hours in the backcountry alone with only your thoughts and the meddling dear flies to keep you company. It’s a tricky thing, this brain of ours. Too on edge and you’ll go crazy faster than the black flies can find you but not alert enough and you’re rolling your ankle off a rock.

What a fine line it is between sanity and safety, one that gets thinner the further into the backwoods you go. I learned so many things about myself and the journey that I can implement next time and I’ll share a few below.

1.Know your route but be ready to go with the flow.

Read your map, read it again and then read it 3 more times. Have a compass handy and preferably a map downloaded on your phone for quick access. And when you’re too excited to get to your destination and somehow miss a trail marker, take a moment to orientate yourself, find a new trail and enjoy the unexpected views. You can be the most prepared person and the unexpected can still occur, use it as fuel for your journey, laugh at yourself, and power through.

2. When you stop to admire a family of deer in a meadow, a horse fly will take the opportunity to bite you in the ass.

Taking time to enjoy the views is undoubtedly one of the best parts of the adventure. I ended up taking a detour (re: first lesson learned) but was able to appreciate so many of the happenings along the way. I came across an old farm established in the 1800s that gave me the major creeps, half expecting someone to pop out of the dilapidated structure or a bear to be sitting behind the wheel of the what-used-to-be pick up truck. I walked through meadows of wildflowers and through streams, across rivers with make-shift bridges that have seen better days, along ridges of rock faces and through one too many spider webs. And, got bit in the butt by a horsefly who wasn’t wasting any time reminding me that I’m not invincible.

3. What goes up must come down ...

...and enjoy the downs because before your tired legs know it, you’ll be going up again. I went from being thankful for the respite of the downhills, to dreading it when my trail dipped in elevation because it without a doubt meant that I was going to have to climb again, eventually. What a terrible trick our brains play on us, willing us to give up before our bodies ever would. Not having anyone to lean on figuratively or literally meant a mind over matter battle at every rise and fall of elevation. No one to pull me forward when my legs felt like giving out or to cheer me on after I made a tough climb. I became my own best and worst support system, a battle of pushing my body forward when my brain was asking for a break.

4. It’s amazing but it’s not a race.

I started out excited for the journey but around kilometre 7 when my legs started to burn and my back started to ache, became increasingly excited for the destination. I tracked my hike details on a GPS and when I checked it after I arrived at my site, found that I had hiked just over 14km in under 3 hours and my body was FEELING it. A reminder that although excitement and eagerness to finish the trip might take hold of your adrenaline and take you for a ride, your body will thank you for slowing down and appreciating the journey. It was difficult to pace myself being alone, no one to gauge how fast or slow I was moving so when push came to shove, I pushed and never let up or let myself slow down. The burn in my legs 24 hours later was a reminder that one or two more horse fly bites while I sipped some electrolytes or had lunch would not have been the worst.

5. Loneliness

I struggled on the first night, if I’m being honest. I was so incredibly proud of myself, standing at my site, covered in sweat and big bites, appreciating the view and everything I had gone through to get to this moment. It felt incredibly lack lustre though because there was no one to hug, no high five waiting for me, no “holy shit that was worth it, check out this view.” I sat on the make shift bench for an hour and listened to the birds celebrate my arrival, watched the way the water moved with the incoming rain and simply existed. I was surrounded by pure peace, the fear of the unknown and a world that could swallow me whole if I wasn’t careful. Learning to embrace it and not be afraid of it took the better part of my mental strength but when I awoke the second day, I had never felt so empowered, so in control and so content celebrating my little wins, alone.

6. There (probably) isn’t a murderer hiding behind the trees waiting for you to walk by.

Thanks to all the Karen’s who, when I told I was embarking on this adventure alone, gasped in shock that I would take on the creeps hiding in the woods. My rational mind knows that in hundreds of kilometres of trails, 24 hours in each day (albeit only 12 good hiking hours) and all the days in the year, the chances that creeps are hiding out in the woods waiting to pounce on a potential lone backpacker are very slim. In my camping and hiking experience, I meet the most friendly humans or people who just want to stick to themselves. It doesn’t mean I didn’t have my bear spray and utility knife on hand but in my 30kms, I only saw 5 other people and none of them were waiting for me behind a tree.

If healing could be completed in a single moment in time, this would have been it. The peace in my soul unlike anything I’ve ever felt, I could almost physically feel the holes in my heart starting to repair themselves. It will never be whole, I accepted that concept quite a while ago but it can be mended and it’s blips in time like this one that make me believe in myself, in the process of healing and give me hope for the day the holes ache a little less.