Wherever I Go, There I Am: Challenges of Solo Travel
A couple weeks back, I took a solo trip to New Hampshire to attend an adult summer Circle Dance camp. Unfamiliar geography: my first time in the state, never had a reason to visit before. Limited experience of Circle Dance too, but enough to know I wanted more. From the first time I read about it, I sensed I had stumbled onto something special. That was confirmed when I saw it done and performed and had the chance to I join in, to feel it in my own body. What was it that touched and spoke to me? The inclusiveness: motto—”If you can walk, you can dance.” Always a bit clumsy, but if they say I can. And I love the way these dances form community, holding hands, circling, supporting each other, nobody superior. And that the dances, original and choreographed, have grown/sprouted from shared ancient folk-dance roots still lodged deep in our communal soul. Plus, they seem to conjure a shared world and way of life. I’ve met people who’ve danced together and taught others to dance much of their lives. I wanted some of that for myself and to bring it to my community, but I couldn’t seem to find a closer venue. And so, I was willing to travel.
Travel History
Well, consider willing an overstatement. Though I’ve traveled all my life, I’m seldom all that happy about it. I’m not a detail person and the logistics often turn me anxious, confused, feeling scattered. So, getting there is seldom, if ever, half the fun. The journey part is more something to endure, while understanding that “Wherever I go, there I am.” Travel is expanding and, one way or another, I will come up against myself. Be forced to confront parts of me I’d rather not. I’m sure that goes back to early disorganized road trips with my family. Like it or not, we are formed by our early experiences. And we traveled “hard,” without a net, in an increasingly decrepit car, and with little padding/buffering between us and the ups and downs of the road or even the road itself. Still, once we arrived, I always appreciated dipping into new, different, previously unknown places. Just wish I had a magic carpet to carry me to the destination and back without the wear and tear. So, this time, I weighed plusses and minuses; as my dad used to say, everything has both. And then, I decided to go for it, believing my reasons and goals would make the trip worth what it took to get there.
Getting From Here to There
Did it turn out that way? Hmmm. Probably. Mostly. Does anything ever go as planned? There were challenges and glitches. This started with the itinerary and logistics: I needed to fly into Manchester, NH. Preparing to make reservations some weeks before, I learned this is a secondary airport, which my preferred airline had stopped servicing. Presumably because it was not profitable enough. Hmmm. Disappointing, but I found another airline, with a rental car package on Priceline. I’d assumed they’d route me through Boston, but no. In fact, the most economical option seemed to be taking a regular jet from New Orleans to Washington, DC and from there, a smaller mini jet to Manchester.
Many a Slip
On the ground in DC, I followed the crowd and boarded a lumbering “shuttle” that resembled a single subway car elevated on giant wheels. We depend on airlines to make the necessary connections. But sometimes (often?) they let us down. So, when I found my way to the correct gate, I learned that my flight, scheduled to take off around noon, had been cancelled. Unspecified technical difficulties: they’d need to bring in another plane and takeoff was now set back to 4 pm. Giving the airline benefit of the doubt, I assumed this was a prudent decision, but it was still frustrating/irritating. A major disadvantage of traveling alone is having no one to complain to and commiserate with. And even more important, to provide physical and emotional support, someone to lean against, to have your back. The situation did not inspire confidence. Probably indicative of aging air fleets, especially on smaller routes, and carriers’ pushing to get the most out of planes while they’re still relatively functional. “Our primary concern is passenger safety.” Hmmm. The airline did apologize via phone text for the “inconvenience” and sent a $15 meal voucher. At airport prices, that failed to cover the full cost of the meal, which I found not all that appetizing and only ate part of.
Family Patterns
Waiting, I recalled the single time, as a very young child, my family had flown together—mother and siblings, but not my dad. Assume he stayed behind to finish out the baseball season. I remember being on the plane and then standing on the tarmac afterward. My auditory memory calls up “Constellation.” Pre-jet, late prop plane, made by Lockheed, with first pressurized cabin, I read on Wikipedia. Didn’t fly that high, so I gazed out the porthole at the toy-village landscape below. Wow! Accustomed to car travel, I mashed a milk bottle top into the window/porthole, thinking it would just fall away as it did on the road. We were unconscious, mobile, litter bugs long before the term was invented. My little sister got a Sky-Cradle certificate, as the youngest on the flight.
Claustrophobia; Tight Fit
Not so much novelty or fun this time: when we finally boarded the small plane, we went single file, not by jetway but up a ramp off the tarmac. Gritty surface underfoot presumably helped with traction. Wouldn’t want anyone falling. The plane itself had only three seats across, two one side of the aisle and just one on the other. The overhead bins were smaller too. So, passengers were encouraged to check any bags that wouldn’t fit under the seat in front of us. I did have a planning-ahead moment, having decided to check one small bag and carry on my backpack, which fit easily. Even on the two-seat side where I sat, the layout felt crowded and claustrophobic. And that added to my frustration with the delay that threw my schedule and plans out of whack. A single steward: was this the airline’s minor leagues? On the upside, at the small user-friendly Manchester airport, I had no problem retrieving my checked bag. Then I had to pick up the rental car for the about 2-hour drive to Franconia, NH. The hardest part of the trip and I had hoped to make it in daylight. The rental car kiosk had closed, but the neighboring Hertz kiosk handled the arrangements after another lengthy wait in line. Limited selection of cars: I picked a silver 2025 Toyota Camry.
Drzving in the Dark
A challenge finding my way on unfamiliar roads, even in daylight. Did I mention that I have a terrible sense of direction? Couldn’t figure out GPS in the rental, but I had it on my phone, and I had made motel reservations, which my family didn’t until near the end of our travels. Looking back, I picture my mother launching herself, with children and in that car, out into the world. Our only guidance was lines drawn on a paper map. We had no idea where we’d lay our weary heads when darkness fell. What was she thinking? I recall passing neon “No Vacancy” signs that loomed like ghosts at the edges of the darkness. Eventually, desperate, we’d stop anyway, and proprietors would take mercy and call ahead trying to find us a place nearby. One time, we even took a room under renovation, the unfinished floor still gritty underfoot, so we had to keep our shoes on. My mother’s refrain still runs through my head: had we missed our turn? That surely did not inspire confidence, and we grew impatient. Enough already! If we had, we could backtrack. And now, as night fell, I found myself driving in the dark once again.
On Repeat?
Take as given that I unconsciously fell into family patterns and assumptions and didn’t plan as well as I should have. Didn’t remember, at first, that I had my GPS set to my usual ground routes—so it sent me all over the place, till I finally realized I needed to get to the Interstate. My dad always said, if you didn’t know the way, stop and ask. I tried multiple times, but some folks had no idea how to get to where I wanted to go. And what those who did told me didn’t make any sense when I tried to follow the directions. Finally, a very kind man outside a convenience store took the time to put the route in the notes on my phone. Why was the Interstate so hard to get to? Mountains: had to blast the route through mountains and rock, he said. OK. New Hampshire is called the Granite State for a reason. Even with his good advice, I had doubts. Seemed to take forever. But then, at last, I spotted his second landmark and after that the Interstate sign. Partial Victory! Still, not home free: the route was very hilly and curvy and at times scary for someone coming from and used to driving on flat lands. And it was so very dark and flanked by “forest primeval” trees. I called the man I had dealt with for my lodging, but he did not answer. Tried to find another place for that night, but so late, that didn’t work out either. I was on my own.
Personal Logistics; Knowing My Limits
By then, my mind had started on its own trip, as can happen when I’m over tired and up against myself. I remembered binge streaming of the Dangerous Roads series, with lesser-known comedians and performers navigating precarious, deteriorating routes that hung off the sides of mountains, crossed rivers, mired in mud past the hubcaps. Was I a glutton for punishment or trying to desensitize by confronting extreme versions of personal travel anxiety? My situation nowhere near as dire, but then I was truly on my own, while the momentary stars had camera crews filming and other help if needed. This again highlighted the disadvantages of solo travel. And that led to musing on my clumsiness. I tend to find it embarrassing; I had to be the only one. But no: I thought of the holy grail motif and the hero’s journey, a la Joseph Campbell. And wasn’t the whole point to stretch and push the edges and sometimes almost go over? The winning suitor in folk and fairytales is often viewed as a fool by those who later fall by the wayside. But perhaps he really brings “beginner’s mind” to the enterprise. Extrapolate to Aesop’s Tortoise and the Hare and, for a baseball reference, to Thayer’s Casey at the Bat. “The mighty Casey had struck out.” Note that all these stories feature male heroes. Women, as usual, are invisible, only the passive targets of the courting. But I remembered how one of my books transposes that pattern (Maureen Murdock. The Heroine’s Journey: Women’s Quest for Wholeness. Shambala. 1990). The author noted “the subtle differences between the male and female quest…” And how the groups of women she worked with went “through all stages of the journey together, functioning as allies, ogres, co-wanderers, healers, and finally becoming a cackling council of crones.” I thought of the Circle Dance ladies I was traveling to meet and connect with.
Getting Hung Up: Literally and Figuratively
Insight did not end the physical challenges. I had somehow gotten my jacket and seatbelt tangled and hung up. And when I stopped and exited the car to get that straight, it locked me out, apparently under the impression it was being stolen. And it emitted very a loud alarm if I touched the door. Wouldn’t have known that could happen if I hadn’t seen it on another TV show I streamed. My mind veered again. Was my adventure segueing into farce or perhaps horror territory? I was alone in the dark, with only the clothes on my back and the cell phone I clutched in my hand. And it was rapidly losing juice and the charger was locked in the car. What to do? I called the rental car company, but they couldn’t help. Wouldn’t you think, in these electronic/AI, times, there’d be a remote unlock option? But no such luck. And if they had to send someone out, I’d have to pay, since I hadn’t taken their insurance. They did suggest AAA, which I have. My family never had that either. Talk about no safety net!
What to Do? Problem Solving? Or at Least Coping
Tried calling the guy at the motel where I had reservations, and this time he did answer. Fortunately, he was local, and I threw myself on his mercy. I had picked up that lesson from my family. Would he come get me? He would: he had a heart and felt guilty that he had not picked up my previous call. That would not have happened with a national company. So, I got very lucky, and he was very kind and generous, which seemed to be a theme in New Hampshire. Called AAA when I got to the room. Around 2 am by then: they could send someone to unlock around 4 am. No thanks, I’d wait till morning. The woman liked my remote-unlock idea. We agreed somebody ought to develop and monetize that. I scheduled between 9 and 10 am. My “landlord” took me back and waited with me till I told him he could go; I’d be ok. The AAA person, towing another car, came soon after, unlocked my rental, no charge, and I got in and found the key. And the alarm stopped. Whew! Back in my room, I decided to take the day off. Blessed rest. Next day, I gave my benefactor a check for $20 for his time and gas. He said I didn’t have to, but I insisted I did. He had made my life immeasurably better and easier. Though in a different context, Tennessee Williams was right about the kindness of strangers. And, texting with my non-stranger, support group, I started calling myself intrepid hero warrior.
All Worth It
Was the trip worth it? Yes. Dance camp was lovely. More intimate than the larger one I’d attended in Mexico a few years back. Ladies (and one gay man I’d met before) were very kind, generous and welcoming. Forgiving and supportive of my still steep learning curve with the dance. And I learned the ladies worry, as they age, that the dance they love might fade away. Perhaps I could open another community? Though that might be a bit ambitious. They wished I’d come back next year. Don’t know if I will, though I would know my way this time. So, we’ll see. But if I do, I might try going through Boston. I did appreciate the opportunity to experience New Hampshire, which proved to be a lovely state, with lovely people/residents, very kind and helpful. I read it’s the best state to retire to. I believe that, despite the winters and cold. Not as much snow, with climate change, I’m told. So, skiing not as good. So, fewer visitors, but there are still the hikers in other seasons. Newcomers moving in are raising the cost of land housing. All things change. The AAA man said they call newcomers “Flatlanders.” Guess I’d qualify, but only for a while.
Lessons Learned
On the return trip, of course, I had to reverse the process—the drive, then the small plane, then the larger plane. One of the other dancers gave me a lovely farewell. Spotting me at the store on the way out of town, she gave me an extra hug to carry with me. Travel is all about getting out of our comfort zones. And I certainly got out of mine. And I did it on my own. And I believe, all in all, I did all right. The mess was equal parts on me and the airline. And, though beyond exhausted, I coped and maintained/retained at least some sense of humor. And I was just smart enough to ask for help. I think of my sister, an artist, who once did a talk that touched on our early travels. She spoke of going up hills not sure there would be anything on the other side. I didn’t share that, but had a more mundane worry, when we drove into the night, that heavy tractor trailers hightailing it down hills to make up time might plow into and drive right over us. Fortunately, though on this journey I did have a few big trucks behind me at some points, that did not happen. And I drove without the rental car company’s insurance. I depended on my own and my ability to work things out. So, I must have had the confidence I would and could navigate the challenges. At home, I took at least a week to recuperate. Will need to plan better next time. And there will be a next time. And a time after that. There is a bigger world out there and more chances to dance.