I sat at the top of a mountain. My teeth chattered, my mind raced, my feet hurt. But I was at the top of a mountain… at dusk… miles away from home… and feeling calm wash over me. Finally some breaths came easy and my heartbeat slowed. That’s all it took – fresh perspective, fresh air, a feeling of being grounded when everything is a million miles away from solid, stable ground.
I planned my trip on a cold, dull day in February. I was presented with a week that was booked off, with money set aside, and an opportunity gained from a garbage situation. Where would I travel to alone? What was a bucket list spot that would feel safe yet brilliantly new, fresh and fulfilling? I looked at beaches. I looked at resorts. I thought about not going anywhere. And then I thought about Portland.
Thinking about Portland gave me feels. It gave me a little nudging whisper of “this could work” in the middle of a lot of things not working so well. The thought of driving the coast, of being in the middle of a new place alone to navigate and scavenge. In the past I’ve generally enjoyed the “travel” part of travelling alone – only one set of things to look after, only myself to answer to when at the airport coffee shop. And sometimes a good window seat. I began to get a taste of how this trip would plan out – a day of travel to a new place and new things and new feelings. I found the flights, I found the place to stay (more on that in a bit!). I was going to Portland.
And then the questions began. “Portland? Why Portland? What’s in Portland?” Air. Air is in Portland that is so fresh and so green and inviting. People are in Portland that provide a quirky, welcoming experience to even a random solo traveller like myself. Space is in Portland. Space to think, to grow, to learn, and to nurture my little heart that’s been through a lot. It’s always been on my bucket list… but it just felt right. There’s no rhyme or reason why I didn’t decide to go to San Fransisco or Miami or Boston or Vancouver instead – Portland just had this little hold on me, and I couldn’t say no. Plus – Seattle was also on the bucket list, so that nailed down two places in one go – with a roadtrip to boot. There were a select few who did appreciate the sentiment and had wanted to visit the city themselves, or already had, and gave me best wishes and many recommendations. I began to make lists upon lists of spots to visit, to pass by, and to witness throughout my week. Planning isn’t necessarily my strongest suit so I left things up to a bit of a “how I’m feeling that day” regime – with a few tours and concerts booked in to provide some structure. Otherwise, all was just waiting to be discovered. And it felt great.
The Tiny House – my goodness. I knew I wanted to stay in an Air BnB to save a bit on my stay. The Tiny House was just way too cute to pass up – and at a decent cost. I figured it could work out one of two ways – either it would be absolutely perfect, or absolutely a nightmare. I’m happy to report that it was the former, rather than the latter. I’ll go into more detail on that in a future post.
All of the pieces began to fall together. I was going to Portland. I was going alone… and I was going as a recently separated woman. I only had myself to answer to; it felt both absolutely terrifying and incredibly freeing at the same time. I can’t imagine that the trip would’ve happened under any other circumstances, and regardless of how the future will turnout, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Keeping in mind that this was a fairly safe itinerary – plane to car to tiny home to car to waterfalls to tiny home to car to plane. I wasn’t backpacking up Annapurna (to my mother’s relief) and I had all the resources necessary to feel safe even in remote locations (thanks, Google Maps Offline!). My Tiny House had all the amenities and everything was either a short walk or drive away. I acclimatized to the city very quickly, meeting new friends and exchanging pleasantries with anyone who was willing to chat. I was alone… but not lonely. I was independent and strong. And it was a truly life changing feeling.
I’ll be separating out my trip through a few blog posts, mostly so I can soak in the feeling of each incredible day and relive the tiniest perfect moments I’m sure to forget as I settle back in to routine. I never want to forget that feeling at the top of the mountain… the feeling at the base of a waterfall… water booming and crashing around you, blocking out all feelings and thoughts until it’s just you and the crushing weight of that water. It’s just you and the earth. It’s just you. And that’s ok.