I just got back from a solo trip that spanned 1,618 miles.
There was no one in the passenger seat to pass snacks to. No one to split gas money with or take turns choosing the playlist. To reflect on sites seen or which direction to go.
There was just me, the dog, and the quiet thrum of my own heartbeat. Sometimes steady, sometimes anxious, sometimes so full of awe it felt like it might burst. And it did, over and over. I left trails of tears in every incredible view I saw.
And I need to say this, plain and clear:
It was worth it.
Every unglamorous second, and there were many. Vanlife is hard, let’s leave it at that.
Every unsure turn, u-turn, and I-think-I-made-a-mistake-but-now-I-have-to reverse-down-this-very-narrow-rocky-road-on-a-cliff-side-because-did-I-forget-I-don’t-have-4-wheel-drive?
Every moment I wondered if I should’ve waited until someone could come with me because there would be no one to reflect on this view with, and the profound realizations when I’m 90.
Every time I had to negotiate between seizing the road less traveled or being recklessly foolish.
Every person I met, danced with, and drank with, choosing between bits of truth to be known and taking care of myself and my safety.
There are so many negotiations, choices, risks, and wildly beautiful triumphs.
Because somewhere between the music I had to play too loud on the trail because I was afraid of bears which made me cry so hard I had to catch my breath because … I was alone and the stillness of the sky and the 12 shooting stars I saw before my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer, I felt it click in my body—
Yes, I’m alone, but I am not waiting anymore, ever. Because counting on or waiting for someone to come is asking to control something outside of myself, and that’s risking a life I’m perfectly capable of living right now.
The stars and mountain peaks as my witnesses.
Because can you imagine missing this because you won’t have anyone to reminisce with when you’re an age you don’t even know if you’re going to make it to when you’re staring at the living yes right now?
I don’t know when we’re taught to believe we need permission to go after what we want, when we had to be realistic in the pursuit. What the fuck even is that?
But I do know the message is loud, and persistent. Wait until you’re ready. Wait until you’re partnered. Wait until you’re more financially stable, less emotional, more certain. Wait until it makes sense to other people. Until someone cheers you on.
But that’s the lie.
That’s how whole decades pass by.
That’s how you wind up building a life that looks right but feels wrong.
Here’s what I know now: admitting you want something more, before you know how you’ll get it, is a brave thing to do. One of the bravest, actually. It’s a top-of-the-mountain kind of realization. One that shifts something deep in your bones.
Because once you see it, once you feel the clarity of “more” ring out through your chest—you can’t unsee it. More importantly, your soul can not unknow it.
You can never fit your wild truth back into a box.
You’re standing on the peak, and suddenly, you’re not wondering whether it’s okay to go ahead.
You’re wondering why you ever thought you had to wait.
I don’t think people talk enough about how lonely those moments can feel.
Not because you’re unloved or unsupported, but because most people are still convincing themselves they’re fine in the valley. They’re still waiting for permission. Or partnership. Or proof that it will work.
Or to like themselves enough to think they are worth living for. Yeah, read that again.
So when you’re the one who climbs, it can feel like betrayal. A little like you’re abandoning people by choosing yourself, all the while getting a little bit annoyed that we live in a world that a lot of actual living has to be done alone, because the people that bet on themselves are too few and far between.
Or maybe that your people won’t like who you’ll be when you get back, and they’ve moved on.
But the truth is: you’re not abandoning anyone—you’re answering a call.
And life moves too fast to keep waiting for someone to catch up before you say yes to what’s calling you forward.
Sometimes we have to go alone so we can hear ourselves think.
Sometimes we have to go alone because no one else can walk the stretch we’re on—not yet.
Sometimes we go alone not because we’re brave, but because staying still is finally scarier than the unknown.
So we pack the car.
We grab the dog.
We go anyway.
Scared. Uncertain. Alive.
And somewhere in the middle of nowhere, we remember who we are.
We find pieces of ourselves that were shooting through Montana skies, or swimming in Canadian glacier lakes, tiny reminders that as much as we want company, your own when it comes down to it is more than enough. You are enough.
The one who didn’t wait.
The one who didn’t abandon herself.
The one who climbed anyway.
That’s who you become.
And once you meet her, you’ll never be the same again.
⸻
If you’re standing at the edge of something and wondering if you should go—let this be your sign: you already know.
You don’t need more clarity. You need more trust.
And maybe just a little courage to do the brave thing before it feels easy.
Go.
Go alone.
Go scared.
Go now.
Your life is waiting.
To the brave thing,
PS. If you’ve been waiting on podcast episodes, they are coming! Since I’ll be in one space for the next month and some change, I’m going to nail down my setup for road recording and to make sure I can stay consistent when I want to be because I did want to record, between tech and internet it was just too much.
ALSO, if I hosted a live event/live podcast recording next month… would you attend? I’m co-hosting an event in Portland, OR with a friend of mine before I have surgery and trying to decide if people would watch if I streamed it live. Answer the poll below!
I loveeee you!
And here is the route I took for my trip!
The high-level trek details:
Hood River, OR → Spokane, WA = 289 miles
Spokane, WA → Coeur d’Alene, ID = 33 miles
Coeur d’Alene, ID → Sandpoint, ID = 46 miles
Sandpoint, ID → Cranbrook, BC = 113 miles
Cranbrook, BC → Random Campsite, BC = 51 km ~ 32 miles
Random Campsite, BC → Bear Lake, BC = 60km ~ 37 miles
Bear Lake, BC → Fernie, BC = 116km ~ 72 miles
Fernie,BC → Waterton, AB = 172km ~ 107 miles
Waterton, AB → Whitefish, MT = 198km ~ 123 miles
Whitefish, MT → Glacier National Park = 76 miles x 2 = 152 miles
Whitefish, MT → Big Fork, MT = 34 miles x 2 = 68 miles
Whitefish, MT → Hood River, OR = 546 miles
= 1,618 miles or 2604km