A Lovely Mosaic: Collections Of The People We Meet

During my time solo traveling, I’ve developed strong opinions and emotions when it comes to the people I meet. I’ve read that when your heart is in so many places, you’ll never feel whole.

My Solo Experience

We meet people in the places and segments of our lives with intention. I am not very spiritual, but I cannot believe that the experiences I’ve had are merely coincidental. I have felt torn between people and places on numerous occasions, but I always come back to the same conclusion.

I talk a lot about why I love solo travel and what my personal perspective looks like. When people ask me if I am alone, I struggle to say yes—because although I go alone, I never truly am alone.

This has been especially relevant during my time on the Camino. It flooded my thoughts on the first day and has remained a consistent feeling throughout my first week.

An Exceptional Example

In Paris, I made a dear friend, Adam. Among the good-sized group we met through, it’s him I will always remember. I joke that he got a lot of face time in my journal, but it’s true. I want a life worthy of paper—and part of that is meeting those worthy of the same. It was his first time truly solo traveling, and he was just at the beginning of his trip. I’m from Texas; he’s from Ireland. Different worlds, and yet we always found similarities to bond over, and differences to describe and reflect on. We talked about our perceptions of solo travel and how it was affecting us—positively and negatively. I expressed to him what I’ll express to you now:

In every world, Adam is someone I would absolutely keep close to me. He’s the kind of person I don’t have to question myself around. He listened to my stories and opened up a new world with his own. We skipped the nuances of stranger introductions and, in our short time together, cut deep within ourselves. We knew the clock we had—he was picking out his next train ticket, and I was stopping through on my way to the Camino.

It’s relationships like this that make me love solo travel—but also always give me someone to mourn. I’ve found that friendships can function in so many different ways. Often, the fleeting ones mean the most to me. To be able to connect with a stranger, knowing they’ll remain a stranger, but also knowing you have another couch in the world to crash on.

Adam and I don’t need to maintain texts or conversations to mean something to each other. We even discussed how, if anything, time makes it sweeter. I don’t believe meeting Adam was coincidental, and I don’t believe he’s gone from my life. He’s another person I’ve collected—another piece of stained glass that makes up the mosaic of my life.

Day 1: El Camino De Santiago

On the first day of my Camino hike, I was walking alone, having met very few pilgrims. In the first mile out of town, I passed a pony. It was waiting patiently on the side of the trail for hikers to pass and wish it a good morning. I thought of Snail Mail, our pony princess from the Appalachian Trail.

Strolling past, I laughed at my mismatched socks. One belonged to me; the other to a friend I owned a car with in New Zealand. In the mess of our car and timeless adventures, a sock was exchanged. I still hike with it, and it still reminds me of Jana every time I wear it.

Now, thinking of New Zealand, I’m reminded of my friend Dan. We’re both strong, Type-A personalities—unafraid of confrontation. Despite being one of my closest friends over the five months I was there, he’s also the only person I’ve ever gotten into a public screaming match with. (Love you, Dan!) Long story short: of everyone in my life, he is the most consistent and on-time friend. Before any grand adventure I undertake—whether we’ve talked about it or not—he’s there, right on time, to wish me luck. A kind and simple way to show up as a friend.

Hiking on, I watched my poles hit the road. They’re the same ones from the Appalachian Trail—except for the bottom segment of one pole. I had permanently bent it in the White Mountains, and my dad graciously donated the same segment from his own. Not only do I have a fun Frankenpole, but also a reminder of my dad with every step I take.

Back to the Appalachian Trail—I think of Turn To. I was alone in every way at a point in time and had even posted on @nobo.nomad about my awkward struggle to make friends at my hostel. Turn To reached out, reminding me that my people would find me. He’s the best representation of community I’ve ever witnessed and continues to show up for me, even half a year post-trail.

The Camino Francés stretches from the French border across the width of Spain. It touches the Basque community, one I’m informed about thanks to my friend Josu—a person I collected from my first solo trip. Years later, we still stay up to date. He’s a member of the Basque community in Idaho and educated me on their traditions during the short weeks we spent together. Those memories remain vivid in my mind.

And of course, having anything worth putting on paper makes me think of Liberty—the guy I mentioned in Not Every Day is a Good Day but Every Day is a Great Day. He’s the permanent voice in my head, with his thick Scottish accent, urging me to write my journal and to, of course, GIFD! (Get it f***ing done!). Whether we’re talking about getting pen to paper or putting miles behind me, he’s there, encouraging me to reach the finish.

I’ll conclude my name-dropping there because, honestly, I could ramble on and on. I have hundreds of stories—and I’m rarely alone in any of them.

My life has been made colorful by the people I’ve met—or “collected.”

Week 1: Saint Jean Pied-De-Port to Logroño

Week one on the Camino, and there are already so many vivid characters I’ll never forget. Whether it’s Chet and Luke’s guitar playing, Blake’s endless ability to bring John Prine up in conversation, the Italian man I got into a fight with using broken Spanish, Peter’s wealth of knowledge on bees, the man with the massive cheese grater (not for grating cheese), or the several people who have simply been kind to me along the way—they won’t be forgotten. They’ll live on in my journals, my stories, and the niche ways they’ve affected me.

A Lovely Mosaic

My life is beautiful and full of color. Even when I’m alone, I cannot help but feel that I’m walking with a wealth of people by my side. Wherever and however I need them, they are there.

I truly hope they know the impact they’ve made on the world—even if it’s only on mine.

I truly hope they feel it.

My name is Alex Tucker and I am fully invested in this endeavor. I plan to be consistent on this platform but if you would like to know more about me and my time on the trail you can follow me on Instagram @nobo.nomad!

This website contains affiliate links, which means The Trek may receive a percentage of any product or service you purchase using the links in the articles or advertisements. The buyer pays the same price as they would otherwise, and your purchase helps to support The Trek’s ongoing goal to serve you quality backpacking advice and information. Thanks for your support!

To learn more, please visit the About This Site page.