By this time, I had done some googling and discovered a campsite just south of Big Sur that had strong reviews for both panoramic vistas and safety — and my course was set. I arrived to the site a couple hours before sunset and decided to enjoy the remaining light with a hike. At this point, I was really feeling myself: I had successfully navigated up the coast, acquired the necessary means of survival, convinced my distraught mother that I was going to live through the night, scaled a cliff (okay, I took a trail to the top of a really big hill), and was watching the sun sink low on the horizon before dipping under the Pacific for the evening. With the sunset, the world opened up before me once again with a sudden realization: If I ever wanted to go anywhere, I could. I didn’t need to find a friend with the same travel schedule. I didn’t need to get an expensive hotel. A tent, a sleeping bag, and some firewood would get me access to the most incredible landscapes across this country.

When I returned, it was dusk and I had noticed a large and luxurious RV had taken up space near my campsite; two older couples were enjoying a roaring fire from their folding chairs along with a full picnic-table setup — tablecloth and everything. Feeling a tinge of jealousy over their creature comforts, but somewhat confident in my minimalist setup, I opened my wine — which I drank straight from the bottle, because who needs cups? — pulled my tent from its packaging, and set to work following the numbered instructions. I felt as though I almost looked like I knew what I was doing.

But the stares coming from the opposite campsite told a different story. When one of the gentlemen wandered over to my site and asked if I wanted a hand, I didn’t hesitate to accept the free labor. When he saw my sad pre-packaged salad and asked if I wanted to join them for boozy ice cream, I knew that my desire for self-reliance was shifting rapidly towards understanding how to accept signs from the universe that maybe you just might need some help.

I learned that my neighbors were from Southern California and had been taking their RV across the country. This stretch below Big Sur was one of their favorite spots. I told them that it was quickly becoming mine. They were fascinated that I would go camping by myself, particularly as a novice, and amused at my lack of preparation. I was fascinated that it took me 30 years to discover how to drizzle Baileys over ice cream. Our exchange of stories, laughter, and calories lasted late into the evening.