I still fish alone in some pretty bad mountain gorges by myself although my old “rock hopping” days are limited and jumping several feet from one boulder to another takes second and third thoughts. Many of these places take 2-3 miles of strenuous hiking / descent before the fly is cast.
A police whistle, flashlight, extra sweatshirt, rain jacket, and a dab of survival food is most always present.
My wife has been in most every “bad” place I go into. When I leave, she either knows exactly where I am or is given the name of a close fishing friend that does.
There was a Morganton fellow in the early 1960’s that fell in Linville Gorge and broke BOTH LEGS ! He was solo. It was 3 days until he was rescued. He did survive and I met him 2 years after the incident. That is not my idea of fun !
Going solo can be right peaceful. You are on your own clock and pace. Sit down and take a nap on a rock or stop, take some wildflower photos, or just sit and absorb moments in front of nature’s offerings.
Although I am not ready to be fish food yet, at least if I croak in one of those beautiful places, it is where I want to be.