My Solo Female Road Trip Across the USA

In early August, 2018 I headed out on a solo road trip across the USA from Los Angeles to western North Carolina with the intention to not spend the night in any hotels but to camp in national and state parks the whole way. I had a lot of high tech camping equipment which I had purchased before leaving to Asia in case I wanted to pursue a long-distance trail, and now with a couple of weeks before I would start my new job as a lecturer I thought I would test them out in the ultimate shake down US tour.

I had already driven across the USA twice before, but never solo. The first time I rode with my friend Phillip in his lime green sports car in a whirlwind three day adventure along I-40, where highlights included the petrified forest, the grand canyon, Nashville, and the Mississippi river. The second time was with my friend Ashley and we drove the southern route along I-10 hitting highlights of New Orleans, San Antonio and Joshua Tree. This time would be different as there were not as stringent time constraints and I could do exactly what I wanted, which was mainly hike and camp.

My gear was my pride and joy, I had an Osprey Aura 50 L pack, a three liter hydration pack, a Big Agnes two person tent and Big Agnes inflatable sleeping mat, I was going stove-less and so made me a bunch of vegan wraps (Minimalist Baker: Spicy Buffalo Chickpea Wraps) before I set off at 6am from Los Angeles. I was aiming to take a different route this time by driving up I-15 through towards Utah so I could visit as many national parks in Utah as possible. I set my sat nav to Zion National Park, which estimated I'd be there in six hours. I hurled past Vegas, listening to my favorite playlists off Spotify as the early morning desert stretches lit up around me like shimmering rubies.

The roads were mostly empty as I had beaten the Vegas traffic with my early set-off time. I wasn't really concerned about being alone, even though my Subaru was loaded down with all my remaining worldly possessions. At gas stations I consciously locked my car if I stepped too far away from it, and I never made any unnecessary chat with anyone, beyond that I felt pretty secure.

At Zion the campsites were full and the signs leading up to the park entrance reinforced that over and over again, but I wasn't deterred. I knew my intention was to wild camp even if I had to do it without getting a permit. I drove into the park and explored a bit to get my bearings. But it was baking hot, and I knew I was in the park at a strange time--it was around 1pm and it was too early to camp but possibly too late to start a very long trail like "the narrows" or "Angel's Landing" which I found out later was closed anyway due to extensive trail damage.

I parked halfway up the main road that runs through Zion and got out my packed lunch, determining that I would go for a wander before I decided definitively what to do. At this point I made my way to a waterfall, which was stunning and sat by the side of it on some red rocks to eat my vegan wrap. Two boys had managed to climb partway up the waterfall and were sitting in a sunken pool on the rock wall's side but from my perspective and without seeing how they did it I decided it was too dangerous to do this when I was all alone in the park. So I sat and watched and tried to practice patience and tranquility. Nearly everyone was there with family, friends or a presumed romantic partner and so I did get a few confused looks when they saw a woman alone with her day pack, eating her lunch. But I was unfazed. Suddenly a huge, rolling thunderstorm blew over in a mater of seconds so I packed up and began power walking back down the trail towards my car, making it in time just before a torrential downpour like I had never envisioned possible in the west. Then I noticed that all the giant rock cliffs of zion erupted in new waterfalls that hadn't existed before and I tried to capture pictures of their magnificence but the poor visibility meant they weren't very good. It was definitely a panorama moment that you could only fully appreciate with your eyes.

When the storm subsided I drove to the park office and registered for a backpacking permit so I could camp in the backcountry sections of the park. I had to pay 15 dollars but I thought it was worth it to do it properly. I chose a trail I thought wouldn't be very trafficked so I could find some serenity and peace. I picked the east rim trail, which is a 10 mile trail that takes you to the east rim of the valley. I had my Osprey ready and I made my way to the trailhead. I started walking into the trail around 4pm, so I was being very brisk, wanting to make as much ground as possible before it got dark. I was also glad it was a bit later in the afternoon though as the worst heat had worn off especially after the thunderstorm. As I was walking into the trail I passed one other hiker who was also a solo female hiker around my age and we smiled at each other in a knowing, recognized way that conveyed that we respected each other and our endeavor.

Around 7:30pm I knew I needed to start looking more seriously for a place to camp but I continued to climb up a very rocky mountainside that was coated in every way with sharp, white, dusty rocks--terrible conditions for camping. When it started to get more threateningly dusky dark and the camping ground conditions hadn't improved significantly I gave up and tried to brush away as many of the rocks on the ground as I could with my shoes. I pitched my tent and then made my dinner. The sunset over the canyons of Zion was incredible. I was all alone in the wilderness. The sky was bright yellow and pink. I listened to some soulful music on my Spotify and tried to appreciate the moment for its simplicity and great beauty.

That night I was a little restless because every time I turned I was conscious of the sharp rocks under my air mattress and was worried they'd rip my tent or puncture holes. I was also slightly afraid of wild animals as this was my very first time of camping in the wild alone, or ever camping alone. But I knew this fear was something I needed to overcome in order to continue to live adventurously and bravely within the lifestyle that I wanted and believed in for myself and womenkind in general.

The next morning I woke up at 5am as the sun was starting to come up and so I packed up my kit and decided to continue hiking up the trail, but after a couple hours I was hungry and conscious of how dirty and sweaty I already was, so I turned around without seeing the iconic view of the valley that the trail supposedly sports. I made my way back to my car and climbed in unceremoniously driving out of Zion, passing a huge stream of cars that were lining up to come into the park.

I configured my sat nav to Bryce Canyon National Park which was only a few hours away but I wanted to appreciate this part of America fully while I was here and Zion had only scratched the surface for me. So I ended up arriving in Bryce Canyon around the same time that I had arrived in Zion, if not a bit earlier. There were campsites available. I picked one and set up my tent before heading off to explore the parks main attractions. I did hike but it was extremely hot in the huge spirally canyon with gorgeous pillars of multi-colored rocks. There were throngs of tourists, one "hiker" wearing a white dress and flats really threw me off. I felt like I was in Disney World for first-time nature lovers. People who thought seeing nature would be novel, or perhaps something they imagined might be a good idea to check off a list even if they secretly hated it the whole time they were there. I saw families sporting designer brands, jeans, impeccable clothing that was entirely unsuitable for the conditions they were in and completely underprepared as for how much water they were carrying or how far they intended to hike. I was a bit lonelier here than I had been in Zion as a bit of my road trip novelty had faded and I was slightly envious of all the couples and families, but I pressed on, getting a pizza at the Valhala Pizza place in the park and finding out that I could shower! I read a lot of my book: Lord of the Rings the Two Towers.

The next day I left pretty early with the intention of driving backroads to Monument Valley, but I ended up getting lost and instead skipping it entirely and driving straight on to Arches National Park. I had bought a National Park Adventure Pass for 80 dollars that helped me cut costs of these park fees. I entered Arches when it was over 100 degrees. At the visitor center I got another backcountry pass and decided to hike into the longest trail the park has, which is located at the very end of the long, winding drive up through the center of the park. The trail is called Devil's Garden. En route to the trail head I stopped and looked at many of the iconic arches but it was almost too hot and miserable to stand any of it so I drove on to the trail head and then lathered with as much sunscreen as possible and ensured I had at least three liters of water in my pack. The park ranger had suggested I take more with me and also seemed a bit skeptical of my wilderness abilities but I persisted. In order to get the wilderness pass I was required to buy a "poop bag" which was mildly embarrassing.

One of the highlights of my road trip was when it was 100 degrees and I walked to the trailhead with my 50 liter backpack and headed off into the desert past dozens of day hiking tourists who were already regretting their decision to hike in the heat at all. So many of the tourists seemed shocked that a woman would be hiking alone in these conditions into the desert and their faces of surprise was a bit like being awarded some badge of honor on behalf of feminists everywhere. It was a small victory, maybe completely imaginary or just for me but it was nice to make even a small gesture such as this on behalf of female empowerment.

I found the spot the Ranger had suggested I camp with ease. It was on a raised red rock, tucked back inside a canyon. I felt a bit like a cowboy or a side-character in a John Wayne film. I read my book and fought off hundreds of angry ants that attacked me everywhere I went. At night I worried a bit about snakes and other predators. But just like the other mornings, morning came soon enough although this time I noticed that my sleeping mat was leaking air. I woke up several times in the night needing to blow it up a bit more, which was disheartening. I thought it must have been those rocks in Zion, even though my tent had no tears in its bottom.

I packed up the next morning and hiked halfway out before I got horribly lost. Worse lost than I had ever been in my life. Eventually after retracing my steps and a few failed attempts at new exits lead to sheer drop offs and utter dead ends I gave up and sat down near the last clear trail marker I'd seen. I got out my pop tarts and ate happily, waiting until I'd see another tourist. It was still very early. I reapplied my sunscreen and then a lone guy hiked up with a backpacking pack like mine. He was a camper, the only other such person I'd seen on my whole trip. We regarded each other as he began to walk up past me. I turned to see where he would go and curious to see how he would handle this confusion. I didn't dare suggest that I was lost because I figured it was a small oversight of mine and this more serious backpacker would easily solve the puzzle. Then he turned and the inexplicable happened. He said,

"Excuse me, I'm really lost and you look like you might have camped too. Do you know the right way out of here?"

Instantly, I felt vindicated and friendly. It wasn't just me and my poor hiking skills, this guy had gotten into a similar pickle. I explained my situation and we both laughed and discussed how long we'd been searching and how ridiculously hopeless the situation was. Finally we found some day hikers who showed us the right way out, but then we could clearly see where the problem was. Because we had camped and thus come at the trail from a different direction there weren't clear indicators marking the path so we'd both wandered off into the same wrong direction. Luckily we'd found each other. We exchanged details and it turned out my new friend lived in NYC and worked as a high school science teacher, so he spent his summers exploring national parks. We seemed like kindred spirits and I was glad with the idea that you could have the best of both worlds: nature and city. Although he blew my mind by telling me he hadn't bothered to get a backcountry camping permit. He'd just broke the rules and camped. I was impressed and told him my main reason for getting the permit was I was afraid my car would have been towed without the overnight sticker.

After I was reunited with my car I drove on towards Black Canyon National Park in Colorado that my new friend had recommended. En route I stopped at a gas station and paid 10 dollars to take a shower in their shower rooms even though they didn't have any shampoo for sale. But taking the shower was like having a new set of lungs as the thick layer of dust shed off of me. I also drove up into Colorado Monument which was on the way and was impressed by its immensity, if not at the same time underwhelmed by something essential it seemed to be lacking--maybe a poetic element wasn't there that I felt all national parks should have. The old lady park ranger who welcomed me into Colorado Monument asked me why I was on this solitary road trip and I told her I'd been offered a new job in North Carolina and she patted me on the arm and said "good for you, honey," which still being relatively freshly over from England struck me as very forwardly adorable and American.

Then I carried on to Black Canyon National Park, a park I'd never even heard of before, a couple hours southwest from Denver. As I entered the park it was getting later afternoon already, and the swell of the afternoon heat was about to burst. The park seemed mostly empty and dead compared to the enormous crowds in Utah. I took my car in second gear down the incredibly steep and winding road of the canyon face. At the bottom lie a shadowed river, perfect for fly fishing. I parked and began hiking out on a trail I saw next to the river. I passed one elderly couple who asked me if I was going to wild camp. I said I was and they seemed impressed but skeptical that I would find a good location. Still, I persisted and eventually did find a flat space next to the water. I could tell it wasn't tidal, which was a comfort now I just hoped there weren't any bears as I'd left my bear canister in my car. I wanted to swim in the river, or wade but it was like ice around my ankles and the smooth, unstable rocks skidded a layer off of my toenails, making me realize I could easily break my ankle if I kept trying to go into the river. I sat by the river and read my book and also wrote in my journal. I was beginning to feel a bit forlorn on my journey and thought about how experiences are better shared. Though I did see the value in challenging my fears by doing this alone and independently.

In the morning I drove towards Denver where I was planning to stay with my friend Katie who had lived there for years. I hadn't seen her since high school and most of our relations since then had been through social media but it was nice to catch up with people even if they were distant figures in your life. Connection is important and I was eager to see if Denver would be the new city for me. I thought it would be like a love at first sight thing with Denver. Or with any new city I wanted to live in, I expected to feel like it was meant to be upon arrival. I had to tarry a bit on my arrival to town because Katie and her boyfriend didn't get off work until five, but luckily I came across a section of the Colorado Trail, which is a 400 mile stretch across Colorado. I parked and hiked for a couple hours up into the mountains, which were covered in sagebrush and much drier than I had expected. Colorado had so far underwhelmed me a bit. It had vast expanses and vistas, towering mountains and rushing rivers but there was a connection to it that I had taken for granted would be there for me and it was lacking.

I arrived in Denver, which had the same calling card American shopping centers and brick buildings that represented so many other US cities. It wasn't massive but it wasn't distinct either. The mountains were in the distance and all around its other perimeters were miles of flatness. I was admittedly perhaps associating some of my disappointment with Denver over other disappointments in my life so perhaps my perception is a bit altered by my emotional state.

Still it was nice to see Katie and the way people in Denver live. I was also pleasantly surprised to get to see my friend Ephraim, whom I had also gone to high school with and had moved out west too. They were relentlessly witty and smart. I was impressed with them and the closeness of their friendship group. I wondered if I lived out there if we would be close too. And I thought about how scary it is to move completely alone to a new place.

After Denver, I drove from 5am eastward across the flatness in front of me, straight into the morning sun. But around noon the sky in front of me turned pitch black and the whole peripheral was black. Cars continued to hurl towards it and other cars seemed unscathed coming out of it so I continued driving straight into the center of the storm. Lightening was constant and everywhere. And the rolling thunder sounded like a train was running through the sky, which reminded me of a movie I'd seen years ago where they said that is what a tornado sounded like. I called my grandmother and asked her if it was tornado season, not having any prior knowledge of them. She said it was.

Then it started hailing. Fierce, giant balls of ice that I thought would break my windshield. The winds were so strong they were pushing my car like it was a piece of loose metal. The rain came down in heavy sheets and it became impossible to drive without hydroplaning. Visibility was nothing, it was just dark and oppressive. I parked under a bridge, unsure what to do beyond this and just wait it out. The storm seemed to last forever and my heart beat a million miles an hour while I looked everywhere in case I saw a funnel. I still don't know if it really was a tornado or not but it was certainly the worst storm of my life.

When the storm passed I drove on, passing into Kansas and through 10 hours of flatlands. I set my cruise control to 80 and talked for hours to whomever would call me and humor me for longer than an hour. In this attitude, with my legs crossed under me in my seat and eating a bag of chips and dip I blazed past a highway patrolman, who quickly pulled me over.

He had a lilting southern drawn, but different than the Carolinian one I was used to and he questioned me about where I was going, my California license and North Carolina plates. I told him I was relocating for work. He ran my license and let me go without a ticket, but cautioned me to slow down and stay out of the passing lane.

With a lessened bravado I entered into Missouri. My original plan had been to camp at the Ozark's, mainly because I'd been impressed by the show on Netflix. But when I arrived there it was already quite late and storming heavily. It was wet and miserable on top of the area having an uncanny vibe of being shady. So I drove a few more hours, making my total driving time that day into 15 hours. I drove straight to Kentucky and stopped to get a hotel room there. Though, I admit having a king sized bed and a hot shower, with all the cups of coffee I wanted was a bit like heaven after my road trip. I was entirely over the novelty now and ready to go into "new job" mode.

The next day I drove nearly 10 more hours, through Tennessee, down the Appalachian mountains where I rolled down my windows to smell the familiar mountain smells of my homeland and hear the cicadas. I arrived in my hometown around 6pm and was very happy to be able to collapse in the comfortable security of my grandparents house and to shower and sleep.