There are those in the world who didn't even notice the quarantine – because they have long preferred to work and live alone
"Some people get pleasure from living and working alone," says Sandi Mann, senior lecturer in psychology at the University of Central Lancashire (UK). "It gives them freedom from worrying about other people's opinions and demands. And some enjoy overcoming the challenges associated with living in isolation and detachment from society; for them it's a kind of challenge."
Mann believes that solitude has its advantages over the frantic life of modern society: "We have become accustomed to high levels of dopamine sent to the body due to a hectic, artificially stimulating environment. But dopamine is addictive. And to get rid of this, we need to lower our level of arousal."
Alternatively, one could look at it this way: those who choose solitude are actually just finding other stimuli that we overlook while spending our days in crowded surroundings.
BBC Worklife columnist spoke with those who prefer to live and work far from people and asked why they like this lifestyle so much, when there is not a soul for hundreds or even thousands of kilometers around.
Steve Fuller, winter maintenance manager, Yellowstone National Park (USA)
Steve Fuller, now 76, has been doing winter maintenance work in Yellowstone National Park, one of the most famous and picturesque reserves in the western United States, for nearly five decades. He started working here in 1973, and often goes weeks without seeing a soul nearby.
"As Charlie Russell once said, 'People are especially good when you meet them rarely,'" says Fuller, referring to the American artist, sculptor, writer and cowboy who celebrated the romance of the Wild West pioneers in his works.
Interestingly, Fuller's adult life began amidst the bustle of the modern world – he worked as a political journalist, then as a lab technician in the emergency department of a Boston hospital. "In my youth, I enjoyed living and working in the city center," he says.
But one day, a decision to live in Africa for a while changed everything. "Three years in East Africa transformed me. I realized I needed to live in contact with nature and animals," he explains. "Winter Yellowstone turned out to be the right place."
Now every winter he works on the Wyoming section of this vast nature reserve, living in a wooden cottage built 110 years ago.
"I've known some of the bison for many years. My behavior doesn't disturb them when they see me passing by," says Fuller. "I also talk to other animals. Coyotes, pine martens, foxes, wolves, bears, elk.
I don't sneak up or camouflage myself; I just greet them – and they trust me. Most people move too fast and are very noisy," he says. "They don't understand that such behavior causes anxiety or is perceived as a threat."
And that's very important when living in such conditions. From his window, Fuller points to a dozen places where bears have attacked people. He captures the enduring majesty of Yellowstone's landscapes in photographs and writes a column on a local website.
Reading is also important. "My private library is the largest and most eclectic in northwestern Wyoming. Not the best description," he laughs.
Besides, you can "go skiing, chat with someone (when possible), engage in self-realization from time to time, and remind yourself that 'tat tvam asi' ['you are That,' a Sanskrit phrase from Advaita Vedanta, the 'teaching of non-duality'], or you can just drink beer and fool around."
Dee Caffari, British yachtswoman who has made several solo circumnavigations
Alone, in the middle of the ocean – this experience resembles the sensations of an astronaut on the ISS. Meanwhile, more than 500 people have flown in orbit around the Earth, while barely a hundred have made a non-stop solo circumnavigation. British yachtswoman Dee (Denise) Caffari, a veteran of circumnavigations with six such voyages, was the first woman to achieve this. Moreover, completing a 178-day solo circumnavigation in 2006, she became the first woman to circle the planet "the wrong way," westward, against prevailing winds and currents.
She was inspired to embark on a solo journey by another famous British circumnavigator – Scotsman Sir Chay Blyth. "He suggested I become the first woman to undertake a voyage considered impossible. But sooner or later some woman would have done it, so why not me?" says Caffari. "After that conversation, a spark ignited in my soul: I decided that life offers us many opportunities, and this one was not to be missed. There aren't many things left in this world where you can be the first."
Caffari, whose first solo circumnavigation lasted six months, admits she didn't even think about such an aspect of this arduous journey as loneliness: "After participating in the 'Global Challenge,' there was very little time for preparation, and much to do, so I didn't think at all about the fact that I would have to make the entire journey alone with myself."
The 'Global Challenge' race was founded by Chay Blyth in the 1990s to give amateur sailors the opportunity to make a circumnavigation under the guidance of a professional skipper. The last 'Global Challenge' took place in 2005.
How much have solo circumnavigations changed her? “They make you think about life. I have definitely become more contemplative,” says Caffari. “I also had to learn to curb my emotions and not waste energy on negative thoughts. Hard times never last long, and it seems I only remember the good. That’s what draws me back to the ocean.”
Morten Hilmer, member of the Sirius Dog Sled Patrol, Greenland
The Sirius Dog Sled Patrol, a small unit of the Danish army, is responsible for maintaining facilities and overseeing the world’s largest national park – the Greenland National Park. Patrols of six people watch over an area three times the size of Denmark itself. Deployments last two years and two months, during which members of the patrols, including Morten Hilmer, sometimes have to cover 10,000 km alone, accompanied by sled dogs. They cross vast plains inhabited by Arctic foxes, musk oxen, and, of course, polar bears.
Hilmer is glad that his patrol only had to shoot a bear once – only because they were in mortal danger, the bear was about to attack them.
Morten grew up in the Danish countryside, among forests and meadows. From childhood, he listened to his father’s stories about the three years he worked at a weather station in the distant and mysterious land of Greenland. “I dreamed of such an adventure – exploring the vast ice desert,” Hilmer admits.
In a recent podcast about his 26 months of Arctic duty, Hilmer says he was so impressed and fascinated by Greenland that, after spending very little time at home in a Danish city and feeling restless, he managed to persuade them to take him on as a cook at the Sirius headquarters – despite never having cooked in his life.
According to him, there he became a master of the slow cooker, which cooks food for hours, allowing him to go out alone to explore the surrounding wilderness. Those long walks led to him now being able to make a living from nature photography.
The isolation, the detachment from the world in Greenland left an indelible mark on Hilmer’s soul. “It allowed me to experience indescribable happiness and unlimited freedom.”
Harriet Reid, ranger on the Farne Islands, England
Harriet Reid works as a ranger for the British National Trust on the Farne Islands, off the northeast coast of England. She spends nine months of the year away from civilization.
This rugged archipelago, where puffins soar and seals lounge on the rocks, is a favorite place of David Attenborough, the famous naturalist and TV presenter. And although there is always at least one other person on the island, Reid has plenty of space to experience complete solitude. “I like that I can focus on the island, that nothing and no one distracts me from it,” she says.
Incidentally, Reid is not unsociable at all – she actually grew up in a family of six. “I don’t seek out crowded places, but I don’t avoid them either. And I would never turn down a party.”
The ranger’s duties allow for the possibility of leaving the islands once a week – if the weather and the rough North Sea permit. “The longest period I’ve stayed here is 13 days. And that’s quite a long time if you’re living without a shower.”
When things are calm, Reid explores the rock formations, plays board games with a colleague, reads, writes, and sketches future drawings. Like other hermits, the working conditions have changed her. “I have become much more responsible, composed, and decisive. And if I can be of use to these islands, then I want to be here.”
Leo Op Den Brouw, lighthouse keeper on Gabo Island, Australia
Lighthouses have long been a symbol of solitude (at least for those who maintain them), but automation has eliminated the need for human presence at most of them. However, the tradition has not died on Gabo Island, a 150-hectare patch of land off the east coast of Victoria, Australia.
For two decades, Leo Op Den Brouw has worked as the keeper (officially “field service officer”) of Australia’s second-tallest lighthouse, built in the 1860s from strikingly beautiful pink granite quarried on the island.
“I have always been interested in history, everything to do with the sea, and old buildings. I love the ocean, and I consider myself a sea person,” he says. “When the opportunity came up for a short-term contract to work as a keeper of one of Australia’s iconic lighthouses, how could I resist? But I never thought I would stay here for 20 years.”
When summer ends and the flow of tourists dries up, solitude comes to Den Brouw – but it is not a problem for him. “I can easily go without human contact for a long time. My record so far is 28 days. The silence gives me time to focus on the countless tasks I need to perform.”
He repairs old buildings on the island, looks after the infrastructure – water and power supply systems. What keeps him here? “The landscape is stunningly beautiful – at any time of year. I love my job, I love this place, and I like being part of the old tradition of lighthouse keeping,” he says. “Here, the troubles and worries of the rest of the world seem very far away.”