When Silence Shouts: What Loneliness Teaches You on the Road

Relocating our Home-on-Wheels.

We moved our home-on-wheels from the coast into the Icelandic Highlands, finally taking on the kind of terrain we dreamed of when building this truck. Our journey began on the F35, coming in from the north. The first 40 kilometers felt familiar. Unpaved but well-kept, wide enough for two lanes, and surprisingly smooth.

Soon, the road started climbing. Lakes stretched toward the horizon. Just beyond, glacier-covered mountains emerged. At first you do not even notice the snow caps. They blend perfectly into the sky. The colors are nearly identical. Only the rocky parts of the mountain stand out clearly. The Glacier on top hides. Low clouds hang in front, softening the view. The horizon and sky begin to blend. The world above and the world below, melting into one.

For more than an hour we saw nothing but raw nature. Lava fields gave way to mossy boulders. Occasionally, a few sheep appeared, but not a single building. No people. Just a single road disappearing into the void.

Solitariness is the presence of something deeper.

To make the ride smoother over the washboard surface, we lowered our tire pressure. At 60 kilometers per hour, we glided across the ripples. The mass of our truck worked to our advantage. It felt calm, steady, as if this landscape had been waiting for us.

Eventually, the road narrowed. Oncoming cars were rare, but when they did appear, they would stop and pull aside well in advance. From their perspective, a truck our size must look like a red wall of steel thundering forward, with a half-mile dust tail announcing our arrival.

The road tightened even more, and the hills rolled higher. We slowed down, the road demanded respect. Our vehicle is equipped for those scenarios. Three differential locks. Street and offroad modes. Gear reduction if things get even more tricky. We engaged the mid lock for some extra control. The ride remained smooth and confident. In a wet meadow, this kind of weight is a disadvantage. In places like this, mass is your ally.

And then We arrived at Hveravellir.

An alien land. Steam hissed from the earth. Sulfur floated in the wind. We hiked for two hours without seeing another soul. Just the two of us, surrounded by wind and silence. Occasional a sign of life from faraway, only a dust trail marking an unseen car. It felt otherworldly.

It was cold. The kind that creeps under your jacket. But our souls stayed warm from the inside. So much so, we decided to spend another night. For the first time in Iceland, we chose to remain at the same place for a second night. Every other camper packed up and left in the morning. We didn’t need to. That’s the luxury of our travel mode. No schedule, no rush. We had the entire place for ourselves from lunch on.

Complete silence. No engines. No voices. Just the Two of Us.

This might be the most remote location we have ever stayed in. When people talk about remote places, they sometimes mention Point Nemo, the spot in the ocean farthest from any land. It lies somewhere southwest of Africa in the South Pacific Ocean, 2,700 kilometers from the nearest landmass. In Germany, the most remote point is only about three kilometers away from the next house.

Here in the Highlands, looking out over endless lava fields and rolling hills, I doubt there were even half a dozen people between the tips of my boots and the horizon. Maybe fewer.

Something happens to you in that kind of stillness.

The solitude brings clarity. It pulls you inward. You begin to think about yourself, about your partner, about where you have been, about where you are going.

Loneliness is something many people avoid. At home, it can feel heavy. Especially when it is not chosen. But when you invite loneliness, it becomes solitude, it feels different. When on the road, it even becomes a space to breathe.

For those who do not travel, solitude is still within reach. You do not need a home-on-wheels and a gravel road into the wilderness to find it. It lives in small, intentional moments. A walk without your phone. A quiet morning before the world wakes up. A cup of tea sipped in stillness. These are the doorways to yourself.

Solitude is not always easy. It can feel uncomfortable, even unfamiliar at first. But when embraced, it becomes a mirror, reflecting who you are beneath the noise, the schedules, the titles and the expectations. It’s not about escaping the world. It’s about meeting yourself more fully within this world.

Explore. Dream. Discover.

When was the last time you were truly alone, not lonely, and what did that silence reveal to you?