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May 30, 2020 • 6 min read
In early March, life still felt a bit normal. I made a spur-of-the-moment detour on my weeks-long solo California road trip to visit the beach behind Oso Flaco Lake, on the coast just south of San Luis Obispo. There wasn’t a single car in the parking lot when I arrived, and I walked onto the sand to discover that for the first time in my life, I was completely alone on a beach.
I twirled across the dunes with joy – how lucky! Nobody around to ruin the calm peace of the Pacific rolling against the coastline. The only footprints in the sand were my own. How differently I view that day now, after more than two months of pandemic isolation.
I’m a travel writer. My California trip was an intensive jaunt through one of the country’s most popular tourist states, where I would research the region for iBestTravel’s upcoming guide. The trip was scheduled when the coronavirus still seemed far away, but the situation progressed more quickly than any of us could imagine. Ultimately, my trip was cut short for safety reasons.
When people ask me about the trip, I say it was wonderful, until it wasn’t. The panic that gripped me at the end was real, and it was something I had never experienced before. It felt like the universe gave me this trip as a farewell tour to the world as we knew it, and in its own way, it helped prepare me for what came next. Consequently, I began to reflect on the journey differently amidst the ongoing pandemic.
Off-the-beaten-track in lockdown and beyond
On my list of places to visit were some California towns that aren’t exactly considered tourist draws, locales that people often breeze through on their way to bigger, more popular attractions. However, in these oft-overlooked spots, I found creativity and unique forms of beauty. I responsibly indulged in Sacramento’s inventive beer scene, reveled in the ruggedness of Chico’s Bidwell Park, and cruised through the blossoming orchards surrounding Fresno. I spent an evening at a bar in Bakersfield chatting with boisterous local restaurant owners and took a decadent clawfoot-tub bath in an atmospheric motel in Los Alamos.
In many ways, this off-the-beaten-track travel prepared me for the stillness around the corner. With social distancing measures in place, I’ve become an expert at finding the little things around me that are special, even if they hadn’t seemed that way before. Now, I pore over every inch of my yard and garden, exploring neighborhood roads I’ve never walked, and ordering from local businesses I’d never considered before. None of these activities make the “Top Things to Do” list, but I’m discovering the magic in them all the same.
With international travel being uncertain, many of our future trips are going to be close to home. This shift offers us a chance to take our time and discover some of the treasures we’ve overlooked in our own backyards. This slow travel approach can also alleviate the pressure that fast-paced tourism has placed on our planet – a favorable trade-off indeed.
Going solo at home and away
A lot of travel revolves around sharing experiences with others, which can be enriching and fulfilling. However, solo travel awakens a different aspect within a traveler. The moments you experience are, in that instance, for you and you alone, allowing you to appreciate them without the need for external validation.
The “solo journey” of navigating the fallout of COVID-19 has proved challenging. With all distractions stripped away, it’s just us confronting ourselves. While everyone has their own mechanisms for dealing with this collective trauma, I personally view it as another solo trip. I can’t control the events beyond my home’s walls, but I can manage my experience. I can plan, adapt, and provide for my own needs.
As the world begins to reopen and we traverse into uncharted territory, this sense of solo travel could serve us well. Not in a “screw-everyone-else” manner, but regarding our mental health. With adaptability already in our toolkit, we can increasingly acknowledge that our emotions and needs are valid and important.
A travel community in crisis: where do we go from here?
On the night before my hastily rebooked return flight home from California, I sat in the hotel parking lot, sobbing into the steering wheel of the rental car. I had just gone to the grocery store searching for disinfectant wipes for the plane, an effort that turned out to be a laughably futile task. Most shelves were stripped bare, reminiscent of an apocalypse. Returning to the hotel, I felt defeated, frayed by every story on social media detailing rising case numbers and the tragic symptoms of the disease.
As I entered the airport the next morning, my anxiety reverberated in my ears. I clutched my small bottle of sanitizer like a protective charm. Walking through the terminal, I looked up to see President Trump speaking, with a news ticker at the bottom announcing, “White House advises against travel.” The news continued with lockdown measures just starting to take effect, and the weight in my stomach intensified.
On the plane, I found myself in a middle seat – to my left, a man about my age, and to my right, an older woman traveling to visit her grandchildren. A wave of panic surged through me. What if I accidentally infected her? Thankfully, she offered disinfecting wipes to the entire row, a kindness soothing my frazzled mind, and we all diligently cleansed our seats together. The following flight mirrored the same experience – shared resources, small acts of kindness, and an underlying sense that we could collaboratively maintain our safety. These comforting exchanges acted as a balm for a crowd who took a risk to travel and found themselves lost in confusion and uncertainty.
While it may be daunting to acknowledge, travel as we knew it has changed. Our future adventures will be shaped by numerous protective measures implemented by airlines and destinations alike. However, the more we look out for one another, the smoother our transition will be. Those return flights home demonstrated that, at our core, travelers care about each other. While we are all grounded now, I find solace in knowing that we will return to the roads and skies with the compassion, patience, and curiosity that initially drew us to travel.
