Lucas de Monchy
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©2025 Lucas de Monchy
Lately, I’ve noticed that the more I think and talk about everything I experienced, the more I reflect not only on the events themselves but also on some inner feelings I felt at the time. Solitude played a crucial role during the journey, but other important feelings include; freedom, purpose, gratitude, generosity — emotions I recognize clearly now, but wasn’t fully aware of while on the road. Talking, and especially writing, helps me revisit those memories and reflect on deeper thoughts about these meaningful aspects of life.
I’ve always been comfortable on my own. Growing up without siblings, I learned early on how to enjoy my own company. I learned that solitude wasn’t a negative experience — on the contrary; it has always been important for myself. Traveling alone for so long brought a different kind of awareness. It wasn’t about just filling time — it was also about experiencing exciting, scary and beautiful moments where there was nobody else around for days at a stretch. It was the mix of being disconnected from everyone and not being able to share my emotions to anybody. In the end, the only person I could truly share those memories with was myself (and the camera).
On the road, this became normal. Sometimes I’d ride for hours through empty deserts, on roads where the sidewinds where so strong that I had to lean in against them, or along endless straight roads where the horizon never seemed to change. The hypnotic monotony of these empty roads left my mind free to wander — thinking about every subject possible; my childhood, choices I made in the past, relations with relatives and what I wanted for my future. I remember talking to my friends on the phone, not telling them about the beautiful hikes I did through the mountains of Patagonia, but rather about the long days behind the wheel, wandering through unhabited and remote areas. I needed to share the experiences that were mentally challenging, probably because these experience had a much bigger impact on me.
It was challenging to capture the feeling of solitude on film. Obviously the many shots of me being alone in nature suggest solitude, but it doesn’t fully convey the real emotion I felt inside. The documentary is a compilation of moments. Most of the time is being spent behind the camera — especially during the long days where not much would happen. Joy, laughter and excitement were easier to capture, because they’re fastly changing moments and emotions. Solitude, on the other hand, can only be properly experienced and appreciated after long stretches of time.
One of the most surreal moments came on the Bolivian salt flats. For over 24 hours, I had no human contact — no one to see, no one to talk to, no messages, no notifications. And beyond that, there was also nothing human made around at all. It was the first time in my life I’d been completely cut off, both physically and digitally. Strange, a little scary, but also unforgettable.
The words alone, lonely and also solitude often carry a negative undertone. Loneliness is a state many people try to avoid and I feel like even the sound of the words suggests something undesirable. When surrounded by people, I sometimes have the unspoken pressure to be part of the group, the activity or social gathering. In those situations because of the social pressure it can feel harder to retreat and simply spend time with myself.
Yet this pressure of participation and acceptance is a really natural and human feeling and doesn’t always have to be negative. After days of solo camping or hiking, I sometimes wished to be around people again — the warmth of a conversation, the simple energy of sharing a moment. Being alone in nature feels very different from being alone in a city. In the wild, solitude can be peaceful, quiet and even empowering. But in a crowded place, surrounded by strangers I couldn’t connect with, it sometimes turned into a negative form of loneliness.
I’ve come to realize that solitude is a deeply individual understanding and therefore will be experienced very differently by everybody. At our core, humans are a profoundly social species. Beyond our intelligence, it’s our ability to communicate, socialize, and organize that has made us so dominant in this world. We’re constantly seeking connection, staying in touch however we can — not just digitally but also physically. Look at any map of a major city or country, and it becomes clear: we’ve shaped the planet into our own multidimensional ant nest.
If you usually travel with others, I’d encourage you to try at least one solo trip. I know it isn’t for everyone, but it can change the way you see yourself, those around you and the world in general. For me, it also renewed my appreciation for my homecountry, my friends, and my family. It has thaught me about myself, it reminded me how fortunate I am — and how meaningful genuine human connection really is.
12/08/2025