I have been traveling the Trans-Labrador Highway west to east for the past six days. It is a wide open, lonely land with firs covering more distance than anyone can imagine. They are usually short scrubby trees indicating the long, harsh winters, the winds, and the terrain. As I red approached the Atlantic the land has become more open glaciated terrain. And then there is water. Lakes, Rivers, Streams, Bogs, and Brooks. 

I drove into this country not knowing what to expect. It was not on my original route. Over the first few days, this wild space embraced me. It gave me time to think, feel, ponder, and recognize the loneliness of the land and myself. Until the third day, the only time I spoke with someone was when I filled up my thirsty gas tank. Then it was off into the wilderness again. 

Each day, I pulled into camp around three in the afternoon. I was dry camping or boondocking. I would find a dirt road and pull in to see if there was a good, hopefully level spot to camp for the night. 

Then I would wander, down to the river, out into the woods to see what my home was for those twelve hours. I would return to my rig when the black flies would become too much to bear. This was my routine each night.

And I thought and pondered. Being alone is hard, being alone is easy. Being alone way out here is just, alone. 

Several years ago there was a woman who had recently bought a Roadtrek and began to travel with her dog. I never met her but was in touch with her by email and on Facebook. Her life was a struggle and had appeared to be so for quite some time. Sometime in that year she went into the mountains of the southeastern United States and died. I was going to say committed suicide but that is a term I am not always comfortable with. One night I thought about her as dusk turned to night. 

I wonder if her loneliness was profound and there was no other way out. It is hard to have someone end their life like this. I always want to understand why. Often there is no answer. What makes one person choose this way out and another struggle to find solid ground and become richer for the experience of thinking about this and choosing life?

Have I thought about this? Yes, I have. Those first years after Jim’s death were hard. The grief was hard. The loss was hard. The balance in my life was sent off kilter and I needed to find it again. Sometimes when life is hard, we think of easy ways out. I don’t think suicide is an easy way out. I believe it is something people struggle with for a long time before coming to the acceptance that this is the way to leave this world. For others like me, I take a deep breath and strive to find purpose and balance again in my life. I am still working on it.

I mourned her loss that evening and embraced the grief and the struggle that her death brought to me. I have not thought of her in a long time but a few nights in the wide-open lonely country gave me a chance to mourn her loss and say goodbye.

I have had to say farewell to some good friends over the past couple of years. My past year has been a bit overwhelming with friends who have stepped out of this world. I have taken some time on this trip to think of each one and embrace my sense of loss and say my own farewell to them out in this wide open lonely country.

Chris McCandless left his home on the east coast of the United States and traveled across the United States and into Alaska. He was another soul who was a bit lost. He finally found a bus and made it his home in the wilds of Alaska. He died there as well. The wilderness can call a person and welcome them in. If a person is not aware it can pull them in so strongly that they never leave again. Maybe they are not prepared for the harsh unforgiving land, not enough food, not the right gear, not enough knowledge going in. I have thought about him and about how the outback of Alaska may have given him some comfort as he unsuccessfully tried to survive. The wilderness of the land and the wildness of the soul can be harsh and unforgiving teachers. 

I have been in the wilderness before but nothing like the country I am in now. I admit that I could have come a bit more prepared. My rig is good and she got me through these long days with ease. Good for you EmmyLou I appreciate her so much. A good and fine home. How could I have been more prepared?

I did let my one sister know where I was heading and when I would be taking the ferry to “The Rock”-Newfoundland.

Each day brought no cell phone reception. If something had gone wrong with me or the rig there was no way to reach out. Next time I will bring a satellite radio. It is good to be prepared. There were cars and trucks on the road so I would not have been alone for long. People out in this country are kind and thoughtful and will reach out to the person stranded on the side of the road. 

This morning I am sitting at a pullover writing this before I enter back into the land of people and tourism.  Out there on this body of water next to my rig are loons calling into this wild land. Last night I heard an Elk bugle, waking me from a sound sleep. I feel like I drove into this country one person and am leaving more settled and aware of what may be important to my life at this moment. 

It is a wild lonely country out here. I am grateful today for the experience of it. I am more than thankful that I was able to enjoy it end to end without mishap. Today I am thankful that I will acclimate back into the life of people. I am in Red Bay and oh look…there is a restaurant. Breakfast anyone?