Most of my wandering in the desert I’ve done alone. Not so much from choice as from necessity—I generally prefer to go into places where no one else wants to go.

Abbey frames solitude in the desert as less a romantic pose than a practical condition of seeking the unvisited. The “necessity” suggests that truly remote or unwanted places—harsh, inconvenient, or unfashionable—often exclude companionship by default. Yet he also admits a preference for such margins, implying a temperament drawn to the overlooked and a skepticism toward crowds, tourism, and social conformity. The line captures a recurring Abbey stance: wilderness travel as a way to preserve autonomy and sharpen perception, and as a quiet protest against the human impulse to domesticate, popularize, or consume landscapes. Solitude becomes both method and meaning—how one reaches the place, and what the place teaches.