Go It Alone

It happened again: I mentioned that I had traveled to the UK for eleven days, by myself, and several people gave me a bug-eyed look while exclaiming, "By yourself? Oh, I could never do that!"

Well, they could, actually, and might even enjoy it. After making multiple solo trips around the US and overseas, I've compiled a few notes and observations that might help you if you're considering such a journey.

I can save you time right up front, and perhaps eliminate you from the Solo Travel Club, by appraising your personality. Are you okay with traveling extraordinarily light, with—at most—a carry-on suitcase and a backpack? Are you capable of asking for help and information from strangers in a strange land?

And, perhaps the most important of all: Are you able to go more than an hour or two without talking to another human being? (Don't laugh; some people require a non-stop verbal connection, and must be talking at all times. We've all seen—and heard—them.) Solo travel, while not lonely per se, requires that you be all right by yourself for long stretches.

If you said 'no' to any of these, you might not be a candidate. In that case, find a buddy and double up.

What I've learned

For one thing, you see twice as much. I don't care how much you have in common with a travel partner, it's just not reasonable to expect everyone to have the same pace. I walk fast, I take in a lot in a short amount of time, and I'm not waiting for my travel partner to (a) read every detail on the placard, (b) take pictures of every single step along the way, or (c) pee again.

Don't get me wrong, I don't fly through every location. But we each have our own individual pacing and interest level for travel, and two people simply take longer. Three or more? Forget it, you're going to see much less than what you'd experience on your own.

Next, you meet more people, especially locals. Sure, you can meet people when you're traveling as a couple, but think about it: when there are two of you, you're usually talking to each other at cafes and pubs. When you're alone, you seek out other people. I'm often doing book research on these trips, and I relish the chance to ask locals about their town or their business—and they love to talk about it. And they usually love making recommendations.

And then there's the distraction factor. As you maneuver down small European streets, for instance, there's an endless amount of sensory input at your disposal: shops, people, ruins, and small details you miss when you're chatting with a friend. But solo? You see almost everything and can easily stop or go back to explore.

But there’s more

There's an additional benefit I hesitate to list, simply because it's often misunderstood. But I'll just say it: people feel sorry for you, so the service you receive is often better.

It's true. Whenever I plop down with my backpack in a foreign restaurant or pub, the servers invariably give me more attention than when I'm with a travel partner. I suppose they feel like I'm a lost puppy or something, when the truth is I'm having the time of my life. That's okay with me; it also means someone else to chat with about the area.

On my last solo trip to the UK, I spontaneously hopped off a train to explore a small medieval village called Chilham, population about 500. I wandered into a pub, The Woolpack Inn, which has been in continuous operation since 1485 (that's before Columbus bumped into the Americas). I sat at the bar and instantly was adopted by Nikola, the owner, and five of the townsfolk. One of them, Sid, had lived in Chilham for 83 of his 88 years. Not only was he charming (you can tell from this photo), but full of remarkable stories.

And Nikola pushed local beers and wine on me to sample. Please, stop some more.

That's just one of countless examples. I understand solo travel isn't for everyone; there's likely a certain personality gene required to be comfortable in it. As a writer, it's perfect, allowing me quiet time on a train to get work done. (Much of this particular piece was composed between London's Victoria Station and Bearsted, on my way to visit Leed's Castle.)

Is it for you? Perhaps you should invest one week of your life to find out. You might surprise yourself—and your bug-eyed friends.