Field notes
What I Learned Glamping Alone After a Breakup
The First Night Was a Disaster
42°F and drizzling when I pulled up to the yurt in southern Vermont. I’d booked it three weeks after my breakup, in a fog of “I need to do something for myself.” The gravel lot was empty except for my car. The host handed me a key and pointed to a path in the woods.
Inside, the yurt was beautiful—wooden floors, a queen bed with flannel sheets, a wood stove. Problem: I’d never started a fire in my life. My ex always did that. I stood there, cold and stupid, crumpling newspaper and failing to light kindling for forty-five minutes. I almost called him. Instead, I ate a sad granola bar and crawled into bed fully dressed at 7:30 PM.
First lesson: glamping alone after a breakup means you will make mistakes. And that’s the point.
What Solitude Actually Feels Like
Day two was better. I figured out the fire (pro tip: use fatwood, not just newspaper). I made coffee and sat on the porch, watching mist rise off the hills. No one asked what time I’d be back. No one texted with “we need to talk.” Just the sound of a woodpecker and my own breathing.
But solitude isn’t a Hallmark card. There were hours of boredom. I reread the same paragraph of my book four times. I checked my phone obsessively. I thought about the future and felt nauseous. The second night, I cried into my pillow. But I also woke up at 6 AM and watched a sunrise that was mine alone.
What I learned: solitude doesn’t fix you. It forces you to sit with yourself without distraction. And that’s harder than any breakup conversation.
The Glamping Details That Saved Me
My yurt had no electricity. A kerosene lamp, a rechargeable lantern, and a stove. That forced me to slow down. Dinner was a can of soup heated on a camp stove. I read by lamplight. I journaled with a pen that ran out of ink. These small, analog moments felt like a reset.
One thing I’d recommend: bring a physical map of the area. My phone had no service, and I went for a hike I wouldn’t have taken if I could scroll. That hike ended at a beaver pond, where I sat for an hour. I didn’t think about him once.
Another tip: choose a site with a clear view of the sky. My yurt had a skylight. That third night, I saw stars I hadn’t noticed in years. It sounds cliché, but it reminded me how small my problems are.
The Real Glamping Mistake I Made
I packed too much. Three pairs of jeans, a hairdryer (no outlets), a stack of books I never opened. What I actually used: one fleece, one pair of hiking boots, a journal, and a headlamp. Next time, I’d pack half as much and bring better snacks.
Also, I didn’t tell anyone where I was going except my mom. That was dumb. If something happened, no one would know where to look. Always share your location with a trusted person.
Why I’d Do It Again
The third day, I hiked to a waterfall. I was the only person there. I took off my shoes and stood in the cold water. I thought about how, six months ago, I wouldn’t have done this alone. I would have waited for someone to come with me.
Now, I know I can be alone. I can start a fire. I can cook soup. I can cry and then make coffee and be okay. That’s what glamping solo taught me.
If you’re considering a solo trip after a breakup, I’d say: book it. Book a yurt in Vermont, a cabin in North Carolina, or a dome in California. It won’t be perfect. You’ll mess up the fire. You’ll feel lonely. But you’ll also find parts of yourself you forgot existed.
My Best Advice for Solo Glamping After Heartbreak
- Choose a site that offers a little luxury (a real bed, heat, a private bathroom) so you aren’t also battling roughing it. My yurt had a composting toilet and a hot shower in a separate building—perfect.
- Bring one comfort item from home. I brought a small throw blanket. It smelled like my apartment. It helped.
- Plan one activity per day, but leave the rest empty. I hiked one trail each morning, and then did nothing. That nothing was the healing part.
- Don’t bring photos or mementos. I left my phone in the yurt on purpose. The past stays home.
The Unexpected Gift
On the last morning, I sat on the porch with my coffee. A deer walked out of the fog, looked at me, and walked on. I felt a calm I hadn’t felt in months. Not happy, not sad—just present.
Glamping alone after a breakup won’t fix your life. But it will give you a pause button. And sometimes, that’s enough.
Frequently asked questions
Is glamping alone awkward?
Only if you make it. The staff are used to solo guests. I felt a little self-conscious at first, but by day two I loved having the whole experience to myself.
What should I pack for a solo glamping trip after a breakup?
Beyond basics: a journal, a book you've been meaning to read, comfortable clothes, and something that reminds you of home. I brought my favorite mug—small ritual helped.
Is it safe to glamp alone as a woman?
Yes, but choose a reputable site. Look for places with on-site staff, lockable doors, and good reviews from solo female travelers. I felt safe at my yurt, but always trust your gut.
How do you deal with loneliness at night?
I brought a small speaker and played familiar music. I also texted a friend before bed. The first night was tough, but by the third night, the silence felt peaceful.
What if I cry the whole time?
Let yourself. No one is watching. I cried while making coffee and while watching the sunset. It's part of the process. The yurt walls are thick.
Can I bring my dog?
Many glamping sites are pet-friendly. Check before booking. I didn't bring mine, but I saw other solo travelers with dogs and they seemed less lonely.
How do I choose the right glamping type for solo healing?
Consider your comfort level. A yurt or cabin offers privacy and warmth. Tents might feel too exposed. I chose a yurt for the balance of nature and shelter.