My First Solo Camping Expedition!

Similar to how I was thrown into my first ski tour (note, My First Ski Tour Post here), yesterday, I was thrown into my first solo camping expedition! 

I am super lucky to be staying with an awesome, kind, open-minded, and adventurous family here in the mountains of Switzerland. Our dinner table conversations always consist of adventurous topics—maybe traveling, skiing, backpacking, etc.— and I always leave the table feeling excited and inspired with new ideas for my own endeavors.

Back in February, when I was initially arranging this current stay, I thought maybe I could utilize my new (to me), custom-for-someone-else, awesome, pack for some small trips in the mountains or something. I did not consider the solitary, gear, or skill factors, however, and let that train of thought sit at the station where I created it. Now, as I am finally here with the opportunity, I told the family a bit about my little idea. Then I caught a mysterious stomach illness (which is a story for another time), but once I began to show signs of recovery, the folks said to me

“Sal, we have a plan for you!”

They pinned a camp spot on the Swiss Topo app, issued out some gear, and said see you tomorrow, hoe. Just kidding! They said see you tomorrow.

Jumping for joy, I packed my shit, stopped at Volg Grocery Store across the street for the essentials (gummy bears, cheese, raisins, soup powder), studied the map, and left. I hiked for about an hour in the right direction, then about twenty minutes in the wrong direction, and then back to the track. Recovering from a mystery illness made the steep terrain of the Glarner region feel extra steep. I realized though, in my isolation, that Walking Fast and Not Taking Breaks is a practice for hiking with BRO-MEN, and holds no value while hiking alone, so I stopped a lot and walked super slow. 

I hiked and hiked along, snacking and admiring the view. Eventually, rain began to spit from the sky. I didn’t mind, though, because it cooled my sweaty skin, and the conditions had been perfect all day, so I couldn’t complain about a bit of rain (and anyway, I had no one to complain to). Soon, though, the rain fell harder and turned into hail, which grew larger by the minute. I kind of liked the hail though because it made me feel badass. Just then, when I felt as if the mountains were created for optimistic folks, I turned a corner and found a blanket of snow covering a steep ass gorge that I was supposed to cross. 

I stopped and said, “What the fuck.” 

I looked at the snow from an angle, trying my best to wonder What would Mike Smith do? and then wondering What do I do? I took a step out onto the snow and looked down. The fall would be long and rocky and probably deadly, so I stepped back and looked up instead. Everything I have ever learned about wearing a harness told me I should be tied if I wanted to take that route. Then, I sneezed. The pile of snow in my way stayed put. Unexpectedly, my sneeze did not provoke the snow to avalanche. So I reassessed once again, taking another step back onto the snow. From afar, I could hear my peers yelling RISK MANAGEMENT in my ear, so I took two steps backward and began hunting for a flat spot to make camp.

After some searching, I found a nice grassy spot. The rain-hail had slowed to a trickle now, and I began to set up camp. Even though it was only 7:00 pm, so much contemplation had sent me into a state of heavy fatigue. I headed for my cook set, excited for my bag of soup and instant coffee, a classic swiss delicacy. Luckily, my borrowed camp stove was wet from rain or water bottle leakage. After about thirty minutes of finicking with the stove, lighter, and wet matches, I decided I was already full of the cheese and gummy bears that I had been snacking on, and hopped into my bivvy. A hot meal would’ve been nice, but at times like these, I’m glad that the weather wasn’t too cold, and that I had enough drinking water, and anyway, a meal of cheese and gummy bears is one of my signature dishes. 

I couldn’t figure out how the bivvy pole was supposed to go, so I just slept with the tent cover on my face like an idiot. I slept well through the night, temperate thanks to my thoughtful layering and warm bag. In the morning, the Swiss accented birds chirped outside my bivvy bag, and the ever-hyped alpenglow shined like a gift after a long yesterday. I got out of my bivvy, frolicked in the glow, finicked with the stove one last time in hopes of warm oatmeal, failed, and then packed up camp. Cheese, trail mix, and gummy bears were breakfast, and that was pretty damn delicious. As I put my pack back on, preparing for a shorter than expected descent, I thought, haha mom, I lived, and skipped down the mountain.

While I was a bit disappointed that I didn’t reach the top, I am grateful for the risk management portion of my broken frontal lobe that keeps me alive. I’m also grateful for knowing thyself and packing enough trail mix to last a few meals, in case the stove failed, which it didn’t because it was just me who failed at lighting it and it was working perfectly fine the entire time. Now I must go and prepare for my next expedition, longer and wilder because I clearly mastered this one.

Love,

Sal