Are You Vulnerable?

Of course you are! Everyone is. Whether you embrace your vulnerability or try to minimize it, always striving to protect yourself, is another story altogether. I wonder…what story do you tell yourself? Do you always take the “safe” route with your heart and the experiences you choose to have?

In autumn of 2017 I was attempting the Caldera 250 bikepacking race in the Eastern Sierras. Much of the ground was still saturated from the previous winter’s melt and the night before the race started the first blizzard of the season hit. I started from Mammoth Mountain at 7am with the ground covered in fresh snow. Fast forward almost 12 hours: my feet were soaked, the sun was setting, and temperatures were quickly plummeting below freezing and I still had a good handful of climbing miles to churn out to a roaring fire and hot plate of food before I went in search of a place to sleep for the night. I was grinding my way up a steep, rutted 4-by track when a pickup truck comes creeping slowly down the road. In a switchback I put a foot down to let the truck pass. The truck stops with the window down, miles from anywhere, and the lone man inside says, “It’s not safe for you to be out here alone after dark.” by way of greeting. Well then… my sense of safety and ability to control my own destiny (get warm, avoid hypothermia, eat food) plummeted as my vulnerability was laid out plain for me to see. I think most of the times when someone does this to me, they mean well, but the obvious question that always arises in such moments is “Not safe from whom, you?”.

Obviously, I survived that night since I writing this now, but the need for others to impose their fear on you is omnipresent. I can’t go on a two day ride anywhere in the U.S. without someone feeling the need to comment on the fact that I am solo. Most commonly it unfolds in the following manner: I roll up on my bike and start chatting with someone, it starts out normally enough but within a few minutes a look of confusion starts to cloud their face, then the inevitable question: “Are you out here by yourself?”. I can only assume they were consciously, or at least subconsciously, waiting for my (imaginary) partner to roll up. I specifically mention that this is an issue in the U.S. because I was pleasantly surprised that when I spent a month exploring New Zealand by bike without a travel companion almost no one found it worthy of comment! It was shockingly refreshing to not have people make a big deal out of my mode of travel.

Just last week a friend– a brave, intelligent, independent, and well-traveled friend — sent me a New York Times article about solo female travelers being attacked around the world. I am not going to link to the piece because it doesn’t deserve the traffic, it was fear-mongering click bait. They provided no evidence of an increase in attacks as more women travel solo and no evidence even that women were being targeted at a higher rate than men. Gail Staub (She Explores podcast and author) wrote a fairly thorough take-down of the NY Times piece here, if you are interested.

The problem with articles such as the NY Times piece, as well as the comments of strangers and friends alike is that you can’t help but internalize these concerns to a certain degree. Do I believe that all individuals, but especially women, need to be aware of their surroundings at all times and apply risk assessment to the situation? Yes, I do! But amplifying the risks, real or imagined, does not help. Does a man need to think twice about setting up his tent in a back road pullout that can be accessed by vehicles? Yes, if doesn’t want to risk harassment, having his sleep interrupted, or getting run over by a bunch of drunks (the fear that a large man recently told me he has of camping in such spots). Getting run over while camping in a dirt road pullout has literally *never* occurred to me. Do you know why? Because I am much more worried about the real possibility of being raped by a bunch of drunk dudes who get in group mindset and forget they are supposed to act like decent human beings. So what do I do about this fear? First, I try not to sleep in locations like that, but often that is the only clear flat spot, or maybe I want access to a picnic table at this remote free camping area in Idaho and, dammit, I am going to assert my right to be here instead of cowering in the bushes. Of course I then pay the price by feeling the need to sleep with my knife and bear spray at hand, hoping I never have to use them on another human being. And, I know the data. The reality is the majority of rapes are perpetrated by someone you know; nonetheless, the risk is real and exponentially higher for me than it is for a male traveler. Articles like the one in the NY Times bring such things to your forebrain and make it harder to ignore the low, but real, risk.

When wild camping I do try and set up out of sight if I think cars will come by, especially if I have set up relatively early in the day. Last week over spring break I was camped in Fish Creek, a popular off-roading wash in the Anza Borrego desert area. I made sure to find a spot tucked away behind some bushes where I would not be visible from the vehicle path, maybe 50 feet off route (photo above). I was lying on my ground tarp and I heard a truck approach and stop near my spot. OK, no big deal. I was about to get up to change into warmer nighttime clothes, etc, but instead I would just lie here and wait for them to move on before starting my evening routine so as not to draw this person’s attention. But the truck wasn’t leaving and I started hearing a buzzing sound. This person (very likely male given the off-road demographics) was flying a drone directly overhead! My well concealed spot was useless in the face of modern technology. I felt completely exposed and vulnerable; I was close enough to a big party area that I did not want anyone knowing my location that night, but it was also getting late enough that I wasn’t willing to repack and try and find a new spot in this narrow canyon which may not even yield another hidden location. After he left I breathed a sigh of relief, took care of my business, and got ready for bed. Just as dusk was descending the truck returned, stopped again, and started flying the drone directly overhead again. That night I slept with my pocket knife by my head and my Spot tracker on in case I had time to hit the SOS button if it seemed like the situation was going bad. Needless to say, it was not the most restful sleep I have ever had.

Please note that despite hundreds of nights of sleeping in my tent I have never been directly disturbed, but my vulnerability is real and the above are some of the steps I take to reduce my risk. I sleep most deeply when I am on a trail far from where motorized wheels can roll. The threat from those who are willing to walk or bicycle great distances into the wilderness does not feel substantial to me. Animals? Pshaw! I spend most of my time blissfully happy to be outside riding my bike, but I am also aware that I am vulnerable and may be viewed as a target by a few unscrupulous individuals.

I started this piece thinking I might also talk about human relationships and emotional vulnerability as well, but putting my writing out in the world is itself an act of vulnerability and I think I’ve reached my emotional limit of diving into vulnerability for today! Plus, as I suspected, finding time to write while I am still working full-time and trying to move out of my house is quite challenging! The time conundrum is not helped by my refusal to reduce the time I spend with friends, on my bike, and with my daily Spanish practice. I deeply appreciate these opportunities in my life that exist due to a combination of good fortune, hard-work, and a dose of boldness! Thank you for reading.