There’s something about the crunch of tires on gravel when you’re alone. No music. No podcasts. Just the rhythm of the trail, the brush of wind through a cracked window, and your thoughts catching up to you for the first time in weeks.
People sometimes ask if it feels lonely traveling solo.
I used to wonder that myself. But the more I do it, the more I realize — being alone out there isn’t about loneliness. It’s about clarity.
The Noise We Don’t Notice
Most of us live with background noise we’ve learned to ignore — notifications, deadlines, conversations, and all the invisible clutter that keeps our minds spinning.
When you hit the trail alone, that noise fades. You start hearing the world again — really hearing it.
The engine hum. The creak of your suspension. The flicker of your campfire. The way the stars just hang out over the trees.
It’s hard not to feel something sacred in that silence.
“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10
That verse has a way of showing up when I’m miles from anyone. Out there, it’s easier to be still — not just in body, but in soul.
The world rushes us. The wilderness resets us.
Solitude vs. Isolation
There’s a big difference between solitude and isolation.
Isolation drains you; solitude restores you.
When you’re deep in the woods or crawling along a remote trail, solitude has a way of turning discomfort into discovery.
You start realizing that God isn’t confined to a building or a Sunday — He’s in the details of creation. The sunrise that hits the ridgeline just right. The rain that cools a dusty road. The quiet peace that follows a long drive.
In Genesis, it says that after God created the heavens and the earth, He called it good.
Sometimes, I think He still whispers that word through the pines, just to remind us.
Lessons From the Lonely Miles
I’ve had a few moments out there that changed me. One was a rainy night in Bankhead National Forest. The trails had turned to mud, and the water crossings were deep. There was no cell signal, no backup vehicle, and daylight was fading fast.
For a minute, I felt that old edge of panic start to rise — until I steadied myself and prayed, “Lord Jesus, we’ve got this.”
And we did.
When I finally made camp that night, soaked and tired, I sat near my gas fire pit. The rain had let up, but the forest was still dripping. That kind of silence can’t be bought — and it can’t be faked.
It’s in those moments you realize: solitude isn’t emptiness. It’s space — space for God to fill.
“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” — Psalm 19:1
The Practical Side
If you’re thinking about trying a solo trip, do it — but do it wisely.
Plan your route. Tell someone your itinerary. Bring a reliable GPS communicator like a Garmin inReach. Download offline maps from OnX Offroad.
Start small.
A one-night trip in a familiar area will teach you more about yourself — and your faith — than you’d expect.
And don’t overpack. Solitude has a way of simplifying everything, including what you actually need.
you’re not really alone
After a few solo trips, something changes.
You stop needing to fill every silence.
You stop chasing validation.
You stop mistaking stillness for lack of purpose.
Because that’s when you realize — you’re not really alone.
God’s presence in creation is unmistakable. It’s in the bird songs, the twinkling stars, and the breeze that kisses your face when you’re out in the open air. God doesn’t have to raise His voice — the trail carries His whisper if you’re willing to listen.
I come back from those trips lighter. Clearer. Humbled by how small I am — and how big He is.
Solo overlanding isn’t escape — it’s encounter. Every route becomes a place of worship when you travel with open eyes.
Here’s to the road unpaved — and the quiet where God still speaks. – Doug
More on going solo
REI Co-op Journal – Why You Should Try Solo Camping
Expedition Portal – The Power of Solo Travel
Tread Lightly! – Leave it better than you found it.
OnX Offroad – Plan routes, download maps, and stay safe off the grid.
Disclaimer
Solo travel, overlanding, and off-road driving involve inherent risks. Always plan ahead, inform someone of your route, and travel prepared for changing conditions. The experiences shared in this post reflect my personal journeys and are not a substitute for proper training or safety practices.
Some links in this post are affiliate links. If you purchase through them, GladiatorUp.com may earn a small commission at no additional cost to you. These partnerships help keep the site running and the campfire stories coming — thank you for your support.
Postlude:
John Eldredge once wrote in Wild at Heart that every man longs for “a battle to fight, an adventure to live, and a beauty to rescue.” Those words have stuck with me for years. Out on the trail, I’m reminded that God wired us for adventure — not chaos or conquest, but the kind that awakens our soul. The quiet miles, the risks, the small victories — they’re not distractions from faith, they’re reflections of it. Out there, surrounded by creation, you begin to understand what Eldredge meant: we were made to come alive.
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