I’ve taken exactly three solo camping trips in my life. One last year during the summer of Covid 19 and one when I was 22, decades ago. I decided a remote camping adventure across the red rock canyons of southeast Utah and black rock canyons of southwest Colorado was going to inspire a feeling of empowerment in me. You name the catastrophe- loss of family, domestic violence, debilitating health issues, natural disaster. I’ve been through it. I was either going to lock into fear as others around me.
Or not.
I just returned yesterday from two weeks of deep me time (might not be everyone’s idea of self-care) that actually did provide the empowering feeling I sought.
Full disclosure, my mini pin/chihuahua was with me. She is petite but a powerhouse social distance enforcer.
The Bureau of Land Management (BLM) manages over 245 million acres of land. Most of which is available to camp on for free. This is known as ‘dispersed camping’, sometimes there are signs clearly designating a campsite, and other times, you’ll need to look for more subtle signs that other campers have been in that area before you plunk down your tent or in my case, you just keep car camping from sheer laziness.
If you’ve ever come across the term ‘boondocker”, BLM lands are often where they are boondocking. No showers, no water, not even a pit toilet much of the time. Most BLM lands are out west but Michigan allows free camping on BLM land too. Yes, there are some simple guidelines to help ensure respect for these public lands such as you must drive on established roads and trails. Some of these will give you the off-road skill test you didn’t realize was coming.
The general rule is to camp in areas where you can see others have camped. Don’t camp in areas where there are animal habitats, archaeological remains, or within 200 feet of a river. DO NOT disrespect the privacy of others choosing to camp far away from civilization. There’s a reason they are there and they want to listen to the wind, not your latest download.
Did I do exhaustive research before going rogue? I did some. Campendium offers a wealth of BLM and other campsite info as well as Boondocker’s Bible. My gratitude to the intrepid travelers who not only went there before me but took the time to leave reviews! Thank you.
We (tiny dog and I) camped at places like BLM 144 dispersed camping in Moab. She was like Spidey-girl leaping boulders and bouncing off red canyon walls. Since dogs aren’t allowed at Utah national parks, we did trails like Kane Creek where I was totally surprised to have hummingbirds darting about me chattering away as I hiked.
It was because I saw these two cars go up the insanely steep entrance to the Gunnison BLM land I wanted to camp on for the night, that I white-knuckled it up to Hartman Rocks in Gunnison, Colorado. I was in a rented Toyota Rav4 (specifically rented for occasions such as the one staring me in the face), my back tires spun some but probably due to my hesitation. Was I really going to do this?
I did. And, it was beyond worth it. The vast expanse of flame-colored boulders ringed by majestic snow-covered peaks and various vehicles more or less worthier of the climb parked in cubbies throughout the arid landscape was unlike any earthen landscape I’d ever seen. But I admit, there is an alternate universe where my tires kept spinning and a tidy story about a BLM camping experience can’t be written.
Then travelling on to the pine forest blanketed, bubbling brook territory of higher-altitudes Colorado being the lone travelers on the route to Mt. Shavano, one of the ‘14ers’ in the southern Rocky Mountains, at 14,229 ft.
This trip pushed the limits of my physical endurance and logistical prowess. Hiking 6+ hours a day via a 50-year-old body was challenging and so damn rewarding. I didn’t lose my keys, get too lost nor go screaming off that dangerously steep entrance. There’s a palpable feeling of accomplishment in that and a deep reverence for my own being and the land I get to continue to be a part of- dusty, dewy, peaks, forest, and now back on the prairie.
If you choose your own BLM adventure, please heed my favorite Burning Man principle- Leave No Trace. As we, hopefully, move through this transforming pandemic, nature is ever more calling us to sacred care.