Solitude

Sun, sea, sky

Solitude

Sun, sea, sky

It’s my birthday week. It’s a special one, as the Germans would say - Schnapszahl, double numbers, 77. I’m asked what would I like to do? As I’m feeling unsettled and overwhelmed, the answer comes spontaneously – to go away camping alone to reflect, read and write. To be in nature, stepping apart from the daily world. I’ve been feeling angry, is it just me, or have I imbibed the anger of a world gone mad?

It’s come as a revelation to me, that I’ve realised over the last couple of months, I now fit the profile of an introvert. Was I always? I’m sure I used to be a party person, or was it a persona? It shows change is possible throughout our lives.

As I age, I’m finding I need more time alone. I still like socialising of course, but I need space to recover and rejuvenate. I wonder how many people fake being social, only to leave themselves exhausted. I find I expend so much energy being social, that too much can be debilitating. I’ve started to follow ‘Introverts Introduction’ on Substack and I recognise the following indicators. ‘I need time alone to reflect and recover. I’m overwhelmed by an over-crowded schedule, emotional obligation and lack of time alone. I like calm and silent places. (No radio or podcasts for me. It’s no wonder I’m attracted to off-grid camping away from noise and people.) I’m an over-thinker and I have anxiety about expectations of events and people. I have amazing conversations in my head.’

This solitude isn’t loneliness, it’s choice , it’s freedom. I love solo travel with its nature focus and quiet contemplation, and I process the adventures through reading and writing. The antithesis of this to me are cruise ships or large bus groups, particularly being part of forced cultural activities, dancing, dressing up as locals, joining in their craft activities. I’d prefer to wander through villages, bush-walk, or sit on the sidelines, an anonymous observer.

How does this realisation sit with my booking a two-week trip to Sarawak and Sabah, on a small group tour leaving in three weeks. I’m unsure. It definitely does fit with planning a four-month solo trip this winter in my Troopie exploring more of Outback Australia.

I grew up shy. I became more outgoing after my divorce at forty and, in recovery, loved to party. When I worked overseas during my forties and fifties I’d be the organiser for happy hours, drinks, events in my workplace. During holidays I’d fling on my backpack and head off with my Lonely Planet as my companion. Since living back in Australia for the last eighteen years I’ve revelled in my yearly trip exploring the Outback of Australia. Sure, I’ve done stuff with friends but it is the solo travel that I find the most satisfying and adventurous. Am I a hermit? No, of course not. I still like socialising, spending time with friends and family, attending events, having dinner, meeting new people, but in a more measured way with time alone in between.

Now, I’m stepping back, finding solace in solitude. I wonder if this is a common feeling and realisation at this age?

No matter, it is why I find myself at Policeman’s Point on the East Coast of Tasmania, three hundred kilometres from home, on a week-long birthday treat, a solo retreat. I’m camped in my Troopie by the sea with bush, and birds, wrens and Tasmanian thornbills, flittering in the scrub behind me. I swim twice daily in the shallows of Anson’s Bay. I walk the lagoon and along the powerful shores of the Bay of Fires, the Tasman Sea. I observe the kelp, the washed-up battered shells, the sea-birds - pacific gulls, pied oyster catchers, hooded plovers, and red necked stints teasing with the surging waves. The same cohort that was here last visit.

It is Autumn. I revel in the clear, pure Tassie air. All is still, the reflections are pristine. The light is mesmerising. The clarity of colours, the muted evening shades, the fierce sunlight. I cloud watch, the cotton-wool balls against a cerulean sky. Then dark clouds roll in, pre-warning of a storm, with strong winds that whip up the sand that sandpaper my legs as I walk along the shore, the surges and swells battering the dunes.

My thoughts and feelings are heightened. I become part of the sun, the sea, the sky, the storm, the weather defining my days. I breathe in the sea air, and breathe out the anger and stress. When the rain starts to fall, I cocoon in my tiny van, and absorb the peace. I sleep. Oh, how I sleep. ‘The sleep of the just.’

I’ll be heading home soon, hopefully re-energised and ready for the world again A friend recently gifted me a stubby holder inscribed : ‘I googled my symptoms, turned out I just needed to go camping’. I consider myself an ‘intuitive introvert’. I’ll know next time when it is time to head to bush and beach.