Sometimes a delightful symbiosis lands in your lap. Or in your email. I had asked Sarah Jane “Wonderhussy” Woodall to write about safety while boondocking solo. Shortly after receiving that article I got an unsolicited submission from Susan Hare, who has written for us before. It was also about boondocking alone, but from a different point of view. Wow, the articles went together like chocolate and peanut butter. Susan shared her article on the Homes On Wheels Alliance Facebook page where it generated a thoughtful response from another of our writers, Joe Omundson. Then others chimed in. So, even though part of what follows has appeared elsewhere, I think it’s beneficial to CRVL readers who don’t follow HOWA on Facebook. Enjoy. And share your own thoughts and experiences. — Editor

Alone in the Middle of Nowhere

Sarah Jane “Wonderhussy” Woodall

As a woman who likes to travel around the hinterlands alone and vlog about it, people are always messaging me with concerns for my safety. Especially people who don’t spend any time in the boonies themselves, and whose only concept of them comes from true crime shows and B movies!

SPOILER ALERT: the boring reality (in my experience) is that I am much safer in the middle of nowhere than I am in the middle of any given city! Contrary to what TV would have you believe, there are NOT serial killers and crazed meth cookers in every ghost town and abandoned trailer in Nevada. 

I kinda blame the movie Deliverance for popularizing the idea that civilized folk aren’t safe outside the city — we all remember what happened to poor Ned Beatty when he dared venture into the wild. And what I call the Fear Industrial Complex has only grown in the decades since that movie’s release in 1972.

I’m not even really exaggerating — fear has become an industry. The news sells advertising, and the advertisers sell everything from tasers to Tec-9s…and all because what bleeds, leads. 

I don’t understand it myself, but it seems like most people want to be scared — maybe they just want an identifiable boogeyman against which to arm themselves, because a murderous meth-head is less scary than the concept of existentialism. If there is no Satan, then what’s the point?? Better to have a bad hombre against which to arm oneself…since there is no gun on the face of this Earth that can kill existential dread. 

Alas for the fearmongers — I have driven around and camped all over the Mojave desert backcountry, and have never once experienced anything that made me feel unsafe. No murderous tweekers, no immigrant rapists, no killer clowns, no anal-probing aliens, no bestial lovelorn Sasquatches…and not even any wet-pants-inducing ghosts. 

Actually, more than just a tongue-in-cheek “alas for the fearmongers” — this is a REAL LIFE, BIG FAT ALAS for my bottom line, as I would undoubtedly rake in much more ad revenue if I chose to pander to the Fear Industrial Complex by constantly spotting shadowy figures or unexplained lights in the night sky in the course of my travels. 

But, what can I say? I’m honest to a fault….and the truth is, I have never, ever, ever been afraid of anything weird in the backcountry. (Cue “wah-waaaah” sound effect, and everyone switching to another, more excitable YouTuber’s channel.)

Actually…scratch that. Now that I think about it, I did have one experience in the backcountry that made me kind of uneasy.

I was camping in a particularly remote part of central Nevada — not far from Area 51, as it happens…along a lonely, isolated road up a seldom-traveled canyon. I made camp, made dinner and hit the sack for the night….and a few hours later, my sleep was interrupted by the sound of my car alarm going off!

Now, you can only imagine how loud that sounded way out in the middle of nowhere, with not even the sound of a passing car to muffle it. It really echoed through the canyon, until I sat up and fumbled around and found my key, and pressed the panic button to shut it off. I was thoroughly discombobulated, and couldn’t figure out what had happened!

Of course, the first thing I did was grab my flashlight, crack open the door and have a look around.

Nothing!

No creepy meth-head, no killers, clowns or Bigfeet… not even a stray free-range cow, which I thought might have accidentally brushed up against my car, setting off the alarm.

In those days, I used to lock my doors when I slept in my car — so my next thought was that I must have accidentally rolled over in my sleep and hit the panic button on my key fob. Unlikely — but I had no better explanation, so after ascertaining that there were no murderous psychos or unexplained phenomena in the area, I closed my car door, locked the car again, secured the key in a place where I wouldn’t roll over on it…and went back to sleep.

Wouldn’t you know it — not 15 minutes later, and the alarm went off again!

I repeated the above process, again finding nothing out of the ordinary…but this time, I actually did start to worry. Not about ghosts, guns or gremlins — but rather faulty electrical wiring! I considered the fact that something might be wrong with my car, and that I’d have to cut my trip short, and head home to get it checked out. Bummer!

I decided not bother locking the car again…and instead lay back down to spend the rest of the night dozing fitfully, worrying about my car not starting up in the morning, and what I would do if that was the case. As it turned out, my fears were unfounded — daylight came, I rose and shone, and when I cranked the ignition….the car started up just fine. Dog Bless Toyota!

Since the issue seemed to have resolved itself…I decided to carry on with my trip, and the rest of my travels were totally uneventful, Granted, I decided not to lock my doors anymore…but it didn’t matter. It’s not like I was camping in a Wal-Mart parking lot! — at most of my campsites, I was probably the only person around for 50 miles!

I never did figure out what had caused my alarm to go off that night…but honestly, I haven’t lost any more sleep over it, and I have slept in my car dozens of times since. Maybe it was an electrical fluke…or maybe I did accidentally roll over on my key fob. Who knows?

All I know is….it definitely wasn’t aliens. Or meth heads — neither one of those gives up that easily!

What I Do to Ensure My Personal Safety

Susan Hare

THE BODY’S ALARM SYSTEM:  A full-time, solo female traveler, I frequent National Forests and other public lands for up to two weeks at each location. I rely heavily on present awareness and my senses to keep me safe. The five senses are the body’s alarm system. The first couple of nights in a new location, sometimes more, sometimes less, depending on how different the new site is from the last, my body is on high alert while it’s sensing the changed environment. After that, the senses relax and then resumes a normal sleep pattern.  

During transition from one campsite to the next, I almost always overnight at busy, 24/7 service plazas, such as truck stops, rest areas, etc.  I’ve been traveling for four years, so my body recognizes this type of “white noise” and I sleep well. Quite the opposite when I’ve overnighted in a secluded parking lot, or something similar. I’m quite restless because my senses do their job, no matter how short the stay, to establish a baseline of sensory information produced by a changed environment. When transitioning, I no longer spend the night in secluded areas, not even an empty parking lot of a Cracker Barrel or Walmart unless they are well lit and other campers are present.   

I used to be a thru-hiker. My senses still worked the same way.  When backpacking long distances, I spent almost every night in a different location. Unless I was exhausted, I didn’t sleep well for as much as the first half of any hike.  It takes a while for the body to establish a baseline over a long haul like that, but it does. And in the long, long haul of years of hiking, a lot of environmental sounds are transferable and easily recognized by the senses, therefore speeding up the adaptive process.  

PRACTICE, PRACTICE, PRACTICE: In addition to trusting my senses to establish a baseline, and then wake me up if something other than environmental white noise should come into range, I practice what to do should that happen. Once a week, at least, I practice defense. I feel stronger, more capable for the enactment. I know how to use the weapons/tools I pack, and the various strategies I would implement depending on the scenario. The more one practices, the more effective one’s reaction to crisis. Knowing what to do versus doing it when the situation arises, are two entirely separate states of mind. Logical thinking is rare in the presence of high emotion. Muscle memory, the ability to reproduce a particular movement without conscious thought, is acquired as a result of frequent repetition of that movement.

SAFETY WHILE HIKING: The defensive tools one uses depends on the types of situations that one might encounter, and that is dependent on the individual. I hike quite a bit. Awareness is essential – both in mind and body. Expertise is essential – knowing how to use the weapons I pack. I’m confident in my abilities because I practice.  

The tools I use include a firearm, which I carry on my body, not in my pack. I place it near my right hand, my preferred hand, to give me access with a minimum of movement. I don’t always carry a firearm, but I do always carry a cell phone, an airhorn, bear spray, knife, and whistle. And I’ve just recently added golf irons to my arsenal. I use them like trekking poles; although they are less practical for climbing, they work well to maintain balance on mostly level ground, and they make a highly effective close-range weapon. My whistle is attached to a thin rope I hang around my neck. I blow it often when sight of the nearby terrain is limited by objects such as trees or foliage – less so when I’m in wide-open areas.  

Bear spray and air horns are pricey, so practice may not seem financially feasible, but I make it so. Although in optimal conditions they are good for three years, I purchase new spray every year. I buy two cans, $50 for a kit containing both cans, one can of the real stuff, and an inert can with which to practice. Readers should be aware that bear spray will explode at temps over 120 degrees F. I must repeat at this point, muscle memory is crucial in the use of weapons. The way one handles a can of bear spray is not at all like one handles a can of bug spray. Watch some videos, then practice, practice, practice. Air horns are less expensive and very easy to use. I have a large 3.5 oz canister and a small 1.5 oz can – both at a cost of about $20. 

I don’t want anything to get close enough to me to use my knife, golf irons, or trekking poles. But the knife is a multifunctional tool, so I pack it at my left hand, and I know how to use it to defend myself. Design and handling of both my knife and gun are specific to me. I’m 5’3″ and 69 years old.  The best strategy is to defend myself at a distance.  But if that fails, knowing how to use my knife or golf iron, can greatly minimize the physical damage I will likely incur. I also know how to use non-weapons to avert disaster. For example, a blanket or jacket can be thrown over a threatening snake, impairing its ability to strike, which gives the hiker time to escape.

I know what to practice. I ask myself what could go wrong during a hike. I write down the scenarios.  Then I ask how best to defend in each scenario. I write down the defense strategies. Then I write “practice, practice, practice.” When I’m hiking, I choose a different scenario each day and practice my response.  

I’m proactive. I leave a float plan detailing my intended route. I use my cell to check in at an agreed-upon time. My cell has a GPS locator that I’ve shared with loved ones. I can be found even when I’m off-grid and there is no signal. I carry a First Aid Kid and know how to treat wounds in the field.  Should the worst happen, I carry the tools I need to make camp and survive the environment until help comes.

SAFETY WHILE SLEEPING IN MY VEHICLE: I practice what to do should I feel threatened while in my vehicle. For the most part, I feel secure in my vehicle because it’s five tons of steel fortress. Still, my senses know when I’m in a new location and I don’t sleep well until they’ve done their job and established a baseline for the new environment, which can take a couple of days.

But what happens should my senses wake me in the middle of the night to warn me of possible danger?  I’m prepared because I practice. I rely mostly on muscle memory to do what is necessary to assess the situation and employ an effective strategy. Although the brain is not a muscle, with practice, even when emotions are high, the brain can be trained like a muscle to act from memory during emergencies.

I have offensive and defensive strategies and tools.  I have red security stickers on every window giving notice of video surveillance, and there is a dashcam, with a red indicator light that onlookers would recognize as running. Except for the windshield, all windows have been darkly tinted. As long as I’m not running an interior light, I can see out, but others can’t see in. No matter where I am, I point the nose of my vehicle toward an exit. I set my car alarm with my key fob that triggers a red, blinking light that can be seen through the front windows.

So that I don’t have to exit my vehicle, I maintain a clear path from my bed to the driver’s seat.  I vent my windows for many practical reasons, but offense is one. My senses are more accurate when unimpaired. As much as possible, I remove obstacles to hearing, sight, smell, and even the kinesthetic sense of touch, which includes being touched by changes to the environment. For instance, to keep the interior air circulating, and to lower the collection of condensation, I run a QUIET fan day and night. Alongside my bed, in a place that never changes, I lay a fully charged cell phone, my key fob, which, when triggered, has an extremely loud siren-like panic alarm, an air horn (also ear-piercing), a open knife, and a firearm that I’ve never had to use, but I’m licensed to carry, and professionally trained to use. I have bear spray, but I wouldn’t discharge it from inside my vehicle because I would likely disable myself. When in camp, I place motion-sensor lights on the roof, around the perimeter, and beneath my vehicle.

I trust my gut and I use my head. Sense and skill work together to enhance overall well-being and self-confidence. The senses function to minimize fear. And when we’re alerted, practiced action is required to effectively implement the correct strategy. If or when the time comes to employ a strategy or weapon, I’m practiced and I’m ready.

Response to Susan Hare

Joe Omundson

Sounds like you are thoroughly prepared for an attack from another person — and my ability there is pretty much zero. A year ago an angry man forced me to stop my bus, came to my door and put his hand around my throat, and I had no idea what to do.

I recognize our demographics are different. And I recognize your training is more about securing peace of mind rather than something you will likely use very often.

However I wanted to share my own thoughts on this.

While being assaulted is one of the more scary and dramatic things that can go wrong in life, statistically it’s not a common way to die. And that is what I rely on for a good night’s sleep.

I’m a thru-hiker too and as I’m sure you’re aware, things like hypothermia, cliffs, heat stroke, falling trees, and getting lost are far greater risks than animal attacks, even though people unfamiliar with backpacking might think bears are the scariest part. Similarly in life I think we fixate on murder and assault when the real killer is an unhealthy lifestyle.

Personally I seem to be wired to generally trust most people. I don’t feel afraid traveling alone. I’m aware being male contributes to this, though I know plenty of women who feel the same.

I prefer to live my life with the assumption that nobody will hurt me. Of course, I still pay attention if an area feels unsafe or someone is acting erratic.

So, I try to put more of my conscious effort into preventing the things that are actually likely to kill me someday. I try to cook healthy food, keep somewhat active, don’t smoke cigarettes or drink a lot, practice yoga and meditation for mental and emotional stability, stay vigilant while driving etc.

For me, the hours I could spend on self defense training every week feel better spent on other things I enjoy more.

Again, I’m not trying to take away from what you’re saying and I know that practicing self defense doesn’t mean you can’t also do the healthy lifestyle part.

Response to Joe Omundson

Susan Hare

I agree with everything you wrote. All, spot on. I’ve been attacked by both people (not as a nomad or hiker) and animals both domestic and wild, on trail and off. I’m sure that much has been written on survival. And I told myself the same as I was writing this article – “keep it short, keep it readable.” So I focused on allowing the senses to do their job, and the importance of practice no matter what tools one uses. But I could write a book on the subject. The year before I began traveling, I consumed an incredible amount of literature and other resources to learn as much as I could about my intended way of life. I write to assist others who are preparing to do the same. But, you are so right, there is so much more to safety than what has been written here. And I believe as you, people are mostly good. I’m not going to be the focus of some stalker or serial killer or any of that sensationalized media crap. But my senses don’t know that. So I let them do what they must, and I adapt. I treat my routine like exercise, which leaves me healthy and confident. Some of the scenarios you mentioned regarding thru-hiking. I giggled when I read them because I’ve encountered every one of them – except cliffs, which I won’t go near. However, I have fallen into ravines that scared the hell out of me. Most interesting, though is that I’ve had both heat exhaustion and hypothermia. The former left me so very sick and thinking that I was going to die. The latter was a bit more dramatic in that I lost several days of memory as a result. What’s interesting about it though, is that during the time that I don’t remember, I got myself to a place where I told others that something was wrong with me. I have no memory of the trek or the telling. My first memory was of medical staff asking me a question. My first thought was, “You’ve asked me this already.” From that point on I began to accumulate new memories. My brain and body worked even though I wasn’t cognizant that they were. I can’t explain how that happened. But I think the brain used a form of muscle memory to get me to safety. Anyway, thanks for sharing some of what you know to be aware of when we’re “out there”.

Response to Joe and Susan

Heather Crawford

All wonderful points for a man to make. It must be really nice to not constantly think about your personal safety.

I travel the world and wilderness (including Alaska) alone mostly and am constantly screwed with by people. Animals are typically the least of my concern. I personally consider myself more likely to be injured at the hands of an individual than any of these other things you have pointed out.

Thank you Susan for this thoughtful post on safety and for giving me ideas to continue to think of my own safety while in the backcountry and abroad.

Response to Joe Omundson

LaVonne Ellis

I totally agree. In my eight years on the road, I only felt unsafe once, and of course I left immediately. OTOH, I spend most of my time in my van and don’t hike, except for walks with my dog. I think my dog contributes to my feeling of safety.

Response to my request to publish her comment

Heather Crawford

I struggle these days when it comes to this topic. Women’s safety. The amount of garbage I have had to deal with in my life and on the road is ludicrous. I’m seasoned now, so I know the tricks. I own several weapons, knives, sprays. I have to diligently practice these things. The amount of subconscious background thought that goes into solo travel and my general safety is exhausting. 

For the last seven years I have almost exclusively lived out of a 55 liter backpack in foreign countries or I live in my pop up camper. I love connecting with people on the road so I often roll the dice when depending on good natured hospitality. I’d say it usually turns out great, but when it doesn’t it sucks.

Further response to Susan Hare

Joe Omundson

While I have not experienced life as a woman before and could never understand it first-hand, most of my good friends are women and I have heard many times about the realities you and other women are sharing in this thread. And I believe you. I understand that solo travel presents different risks for women (as does staying put in the city), and I hate that so many men act in aggressive, predatory ways to make this the reality. I try to be the kind of person whose presence makes women feel safer and not threatened.

I agree that my perspective on self-defense is easier to hold as a man, and is more commonly held by men. I tried to say so in my original post a couple times but maybe not clearly enough.

I have been able to do things like hitchhike between Oregon and Utah without consequence, and I know most women would never feel safe doing that. The only statistics I could find about hitchhiking safety (from California, in the 70s, but probably still relevant most places today) showed that women were 5x more likely to be sexually assaulted. I recognize this as a real difference in risk level and a valid reason to be concerned for your safety.

I also don’t think there’s anything wrong with learning self-defense, as a woman or a man or anything else. I can see how it is a wise thing to do and an insurance policy in those unpredictable dangerous situations which do undeniably happen sometimes. I hope it didn’t come across like I am advising people to ignore your advice, or dismissing its value.

You talked about how hard it is to think logically in those moments where someone is threatening you, and the need for a trained instinct to know how to react, and I know exactly what you mean because when that man assaulted me last year I completely froze and didn’t know what to do. Having some training would have helped. I had a machete behind my driver’s seat but I hesitated to use it (maybe because his hand was only loosely around my throat and not actively choking me).

Here’s the thing… this is one of those situations where if I would have had a gun, I probably would have been justified using it. This guy is entering through the door of my vehicle and has his hands on me. As traumatic as that felt, I can’t imagine how much more traumatized I would have been that day if I had actually shot and killed someone. A gun might have made me personally safer, but I am glad I defused the situation with words instead, because taking a life would have haunted me forever. This experience actually reinforced my decision not to travel with a gun. Again though, this is just my own preference and not something I would expect everyone to choose.

Also, even though what the guy did to me was scary, I never had to think it was gender-motivated or that he might want to violate me sexually, so that’s a whole other dimension of what we’re trying to prevent against here.

This is getting pretty long… All this to say, I’m not trying to deny it if anyone says I feel the way I do about self defense because I’m male. And I understand the need for it.

But I do still think that gender isn’t the only factor that determines whether you feel safe while traveling.

It is a major factor for sure, perhaps the biggest one.

Still, it’s not a black&white line where all men feel totally safe and secure traveling solo, and all women must constantly feel anxious. There are plenty of men who practice self defense with guns for example, including my step-dad, because they are worried about assault. And there are some women like my friend LaVonne in this thread, and my other friend Atli comes to mind, along with dozens of other female thru-hikers and vandwellers I know, who choose not to travel with guns and don’t regularly practice self defense, who also have no trouble falling asleep at night (at least due to safety concerns) and by default feel pretty safe moving through the wilderness alone.

I don’t know what other factors go into making a person feel safe or unsafe, and it’s not a value judgment either way; I think it’s just a variance in individual realities. We all have to do what we have to do in order to feel safe enough to get out there and explore and live our lives fully. And Susan I hope your post is helping a lot of people see that there are practical steps you can take to increase your security, and even if solo vandwelling feels too scary to try right now, it doesn’t have to stay that way forever.