How to Thrive Alone: Facing Challenges on Election Day

On Tuesday I escaped to the mountains to avoid the growing tension around national elections. I planned to hike to Thompson Lake via the Granite Creek Trail and ended up adding a stop at Granite Lake, too. This hike allowed me to gauge my physical and emotional progress in 2024. What’s more, I enjoyed an early snowfall. I never would have guessed back on August 21, during my first solo hike without Ajax (you may recall my encounter with three bears) that I could thrive alone merely ten weeks later.

Facing Unexpected Elements

From my weather research, I expected a break in the storms. But forecasts are not always accurate. Especially in the mountains this time of year. The first challenge I faced was to prepare for anything.

Mine was the only car in the parking lot Tuesday morning when I headed out just before 7 a.m. I’d hiked part of the Granite Creek trail twice this year, once with Ajax before his injury, and the other with my daughter. For the first hour, things looked promising. At the waterfall halfway between the bridge and the Thompson/Granite Lakes Junction sign (what I will refer to from here on out as the Junction), it started to sleet, forcing me to pull out my waterproof jacket. Fortunately, it didn’t last long.

First Snow!

Once I passed the Junction, I could see a trace of snow collecting on the ground. Sleet turned to big fluffy flakes the higher I went. I smiled, as I prefer snow to rain any day of the week.

The snow grew deeper, reaching 3-4 inches by the time I reached the dark woods between Thompson and Granite Lakes. Tracks appeared in the snow — deer, rabbit, perhaps fox? A trip report from 3 days prior said they’d turned back at the ridge above Thompson Lake. The world grew muffled until I could see only my tracks. Another smile. I had the mountain all to myself.

Progress and Distance

The second challenge I faced was the distance of the hike. Completing 14.2 miles with 3400 feet of elevation gain solo is a lot, particularly in November. There aren’t as many people on the trail in case something goes wrong. Daylight is shorter. The weather can get dicey. And snow can mask the trail, slowing you down even more.

But I’d hiked several 13-mile routes in the past few months. What’s another mile? I was having such a great time, enjoying the freedom of the hills, that I wasn’t in any hurry to return to reality. What surprised me, however, was my willingness to jump from 13 to 16 miles.

What’s Another 1.5 Miles?

That’s right. I added a side trip to Granite Lake, tacking on 1.5 miles to the 14.2 I’d intended. I was there, I felt strong, and my pace was solid, so I went for it. At the lower elevation, snow turned to rain. After a quick bite, I returned along the muddy trail to the junction, encountering a woman with two dogs who told me she wasn’t feeling particularly energetic. I shared some beta about both trails before wishing her luck.

For the final mile, the sun joined me. I’d had everything — sleet, hail, wind, rain, snow, and sun. And the clothing and knowledge to handle it all. The metaphor was not lost on me. The more tools and experience we have to handle the complexities of life, the more options we have to roll with whatever comes up.

Not only was I physically and mentally prepared for a 16-mile day, but I could do it with the trail covered, in driving hail or drifting powdery flakes, or in bright sunshine, all with a smile on my face. Adding that extra distance showed me what’s possible when I’m fully engaged and enjoying the journey. Invincible!

Counting Streams, Missing Companionship

My third challenge was filling seven hours without Ajax or a friend beside me. Three activities helped. The first was keeping track of stream crossings. A few years ago during a winter hike to Pratt Lake, my friend Tonia and I mimicked the Sesame Street muppet, the Count. He took such delight in counting lightning strikes. I did the same, counting water flowing across the stream. Between the bridge and the waterfall, I counted 15. (15 wonderful water features! Bwahahaha!) From the waterfall to the Junction, there were 22.

The second activity was studying animal tracks as I hiked, imagining the prints compared to what Ajax leaves on our walks and guessing where the wild creatures might be in the middle of the day. And the third was listening closely for any birds. My favorite moment of the entire hike was when I paused briefly on the climb from Thompson Lake back to the ridge.

I heard a faint twitter and glanced around, wondering what bird could be making that sound. There! Tap tap – a woodpecker! Finally, I spotted it, then smiled when I saw two downy woodpeckers chittering softly at each other as they foraged for insects under the bark. captures the bittersweet reality of growth—learning to move forward independently while still holding onto fond memories of past companionship.

Support of Preparation

My fourth challenge was making sure I had the right gear for an all-day solo outing. During my scouting trip to Big Creek Falls, I shared the story of having a degraded cell phone battery, rain gear that wasn’t waterproof, and no way to charge my phone. Although going all day meant carrying more weight, I barely noticed it. Fortunately, most of the grades on this trail were quite gradual.

On this trip, my gear did beautifully. I had gaiters, microspikes, and trekking poles, a water-resistant coat (which I wore most of the time), a down coat (which I never used), a pack cover (which I pulled out as the snow turned to rain), plenty of food and water, a wool hat and gloves, and even a sitting pad.

Even though I did not use everything, I had it if I needed it. Just as we equip ourselves for hikes, we can build resilience for life by gathering the right skills and tools for our journey.

Beauty and the Balm of Nature

On election day, I desired self-soothing. I found it in the mountains. During my seven-hour trip, I encountered a total of five people and three dogs. Each person was hiking solo. Nobody discussed politics, only the conditions on the trail. Mother Nature is a wonderful equalizer.

I challenged myself mentally and physically and came back feeling revitalized. Personal growth, like this hike, is often a solo journey with ever-changing conditions. Every mile built confidence. Each stream crossing reminded me that I was making steady progress. And each type of weather was an opportunity to embrace change.

The final mile in the sun represented the light at the end of the tunnel. Whatever our struggles, wherever our journey takes us, I firmly believe there is always hope. For growth, for learning, for beauty, and the healing balm of nature. I wouldn’t have it any other way. May you find your ray of sunshine, hope, and empowerment this season of Thanksgiving.