a) Fear of other people
 

Strictly speaking, wild overnight stays are an administrative offence in Germany — one that usually doesn’t bother anyone. In terms of scale, it’s roughly comparable to parking in the wrong spot.
(As long as there’s no fire, no litter, and you’re not in a national park or protected area.)
 

If someone does discover me despite all precautions, it can happen that I have to pack up and move on. That has never really happened to me — except once in the morning… and I was going to leave anyway.
 

In a moment like that, one thing matters most: humility.
Because sleeping out in the open is officially not allowed in many cases.

And most encounters are completely uneventful:
If passers-by see you, they often don’t care — they just keep walking. Maybe there’s a shake of the head, maybe even a quiet “respect.” If someone truly takes offence, it helps to stay friendly and calmly explain why you’re doing it:
That you respect nature, cause no harm, leave no trace — and simply want to be outside, close to nature, for a few hours.
 

b) Fear of animals

Nocturnal animals sometimes wander around your tent and may wake you up for a moment — but most of them are shy. They’re usually not a danger.

What matters more is the small stuff:
a properly closed mosquito net, so mosquitoes don’t become the main attraction of the night.

Personally, the thing I’m most afraid of is snakes.
I deal with that fear in a very practical way: by sleeping in a fully closed tent. Inside, I feel safe — and that’s reason enough for me not to use a tarp.

 

c) Fear of the dark

Interestingly, I don’t have this fear at all. Quite the opposite:
The darker it gets, the fewer people are around. For me, darkness is more of an ally. It makes me feel safe and sheltered.
That said, I still wouldn’t watch a crime show in my tent.



 

A particular challenge of travelling alone: not being able to share it. 
 

What feels big and deeply joyful out there can become surprisingly quiet once you’re back inside: the moment belongs only to you. To truly enjoy solitude, you need to be at ease with yourself — and to like being on your own, almost as if you were travelling with your own best friend.
 

Going with someone else allows you to share those moments of happiness.
When you travel alone, that need isn’t met. The moment you experience stays entirely with you. I learned this only later in life.

Solitude and togetherness are two different states — each with its own strengths. They shouldn’t be played off against one another. Both are worth practising, and both are worth mastering.