a french man spent twenty minutes diving into manning gorge wearing a kid’s rainbow goggles to find my lost pearl.
there was a snake involved.
he found the pearl anyway.
i camped with those strangers for the next four nights.
when people ask what it’s like to travel australia alone, that’s one of the stories i want to tell them.
because yes, you leave by yourself. but you have no idea who you’ll meet along the way.
first, the swag
i was burnt out.
i quit my job, packed a swag into the 4wd and left orange for eight months around australia.
i wasn’t suddenly fearless. i wanted to go, and i was tired of waiting for the right circumstances or someone else to be available.
there were practical things to work out. places to stay, distances to drive, fuel to pay for. there were days when i felt confident and moments when i didn’t.
but gradually, i found a rhythm.
coffee with good beans and my cafetière. rolling out the yoga mat. swimming whenever i could. deciding where to sleep.
some days were about getting somewhere. others were about realising i didn’t need to leave yet.
having that much say over my own day felt bloody good.
then, the pearl
at manning gorge, i jumped off a rock into the water.
my broome pearl disappeared.
a stranger borrowed a kid’s rainbow goggles and went searching. twenty minutes of diving, a snake making an appearance, and somehow he found it.
honestly, a remarkable level of commitment to someone else’s jewellery.
but getting the pearl back was only one part of it.
we ended up camping together for the next four nights. people i hadn’t known before became people i shared part of the trip with.
i think about that when someone says, “but won’t i be lonely?”
you might be, sometimes. i don’t want to pretend otherwise.
but you might also find company in places you weren’t expecting it. you can arrive alone and still have people to laugh with, share a meal with or make plans with for tomorrow.
we can want both
sometimes i wanted quiet. sometimes i wanted a conversation.
sometimes i would have loved someone beside me who already knew me, so i didn’t have to start with where i was from and where i was heading.
we’re allowed to want that too.
loving solo travel doesn’t mean we stop wanting connection. it means we give ourselves permission to do things while that part of life is still unfolding.
we can want a partner, friends who are available, someone to share the drive — and still book the trip.
i’ve travelled to 81 countries, and i still don’t think confidence means never having nerves. sometimes it means knowing how to prepare, recognising when something doesn’t feel right and giving yourself permission to change the plan.
you don’t have to prove anything by pushing through a situation you’re uncomfortable with.
two romances. one unexpected love story.
there were two special romances along the way.
so no, it wasn’t all camp chairs and conversations about tyre pressure.
but i didn’t manage to fall in love.
well, actually, i did.
with my country. the red dirt, the gorges, the coastline and the people who became part of the story.
and with myself a little, too. for going. for figuring it out. for giving myself a life i’d otherwise still be waiting to live.
there’s something lovely about collecting evidence that you can look after yourself. making decisions. changing plans. finding your way somewhere new.
i came home with memories of beautiful places, two special romances and more trust in the woman who had got me there.
i still want someone to share life with. that hasn’t changed.
but i’m glad i didn’t wait to meet him before i lived this part of it.
this is why the first step matters
i recently shared my story with anna houlahan for australian community media, as part of the conversation around reflections holidays’ wander woman report.
it was a little pinch-me moment. a trip that started with burnout and a swag had become a story that might help another woman go.
what i appreciate about reflections is that they’re paying attention to women who want to travel solo. asking what we want, what holds us back and what might help us take that first step matters.
from my own stays at jimmy’s beach, seal rocks, bonny hills and lake keepit, i can see why a holiday park could be a lovely place to begin.
you can have your own comfortable base, explore nearby and come back when you’ve had enough for the day. there can be people around to chat with, without having to organise your whole trip around someone else.
i’ve stayed in everything from a tiny home to a cabin and a safari tent. i’ve had mornings by the water, walks, swims and time to settle into my own company.
for someone wondering whether she could enjoy a weekend away alone, that feels like a manageable place to start.
you don’t need eight months
you don’t have to quit your job.
you don’t need a 4wd, a swag or a pearl requiring an international rescue effort.
try two nights somewhere you’ve wanted to visit.
choose accommodation you feel comfortable with. work out how you’ll get there. check what’s nearby. let someone you trust know your plans.
give yourself one thing to look forward to: coffee overlooking the water, a walk, a book you never get around to reading.
leave some room to discover what you feel like doing once you’re there.
you might miss having company. you might feel awkward at dinner. you might also wake up the next morning and think, “i’d like to do this again.”
that’s enough for a first trip.
a little thank you
thank you to anna houlahan and australian community media for sharing my story, and to reflections holidays for giving women travelling solo a place in the conversation. you guys are really leading the way.
read the article · watch the interview
and if you’ve been waiting for someone to come with you, maybe start looking at what a little weekend of your own could look like.
you can still invite them.
you can also go anyway.
what’s one place you’d love to visit on your own? tell me in the comments — or reply to this email.
if this reminded you of a friend who keeps waiting for company, send it to her. and subscribe for more solo travel stories, places to try and a little encouragement to book the thing.
jen x