Lettie Goes Travelling

“Oh my goodness, you’re so brave.”

I hear that a lot when people find out I travel on my own.

There seems to be a perception that travelling solo is somehow scarier than travelling with a partner, friends or family. And I do understand why people think that.

But travel isn’t just about physically being away from home. There’s so much more to it than that.

I’m a planner and a doer — give me a task and I’ll get on with it. But even so, once I’d decided to go away, the list of things to organise felt overwhelming.

Travel insurance.

Bank cards.

Back-up cards.

Mobile data.

Airport transfers.

Suitcase size.

Just writing it down now makes my blood pressure rise slightly.

And for a lot of people, that’s where it stops. That’s the point where “maybe next year” creeps in.

But the truth is, we’re not always promised a next year.

Once I stopped seeing all those thoughts as reasons not to go, and instead turned them into a to-do list, everything felt more manageable. Less emotional. More practical.

Choosing where to go was my next step. I didn’t aim for a bucket-list destination — I chose somewhere familiar. Somewhere with a safety net. Somewhere I could ease myself back in.

Even so, that first trip was hard.

I felt physically sick at the airport. I cried on the plane. Not because anything was wrong, but because I was doing something new after a big life shift — and that hits differently.

But I also knew what was happening.

It wasn’t danger.

It was my brain trying to keep me safe.

And once I arrived, something shifted.

The trip was good. There were tears, yes — but there was also laughter, connection, and a sense of quiet pride that I’d done something difficult and come through it.

My next trip pushed me a little further. I spent a few days travelling alone before meeting friends. Still supported, but with space to find my own rhythm.

Those small steps mattered.

I wasn’t trying to prove anything.

I wasn’t comparing myself to anyone else.

I was just learning what worked for me.

Along the way, I rediscovered things I’d lost touch with — my love of photography, my confidence, even my languages (though thank goodness for Google Translate).

And slowly, travel stopped feeling scary.

Not because the nerves disappeared, but because I understood them.

Even now, 40-plus trips later, I still double-check things. I still have moments of hesitation. But I go anyway.

Because solo travel isn’t about being brave.

It’s about deciding not to let fear make all your choices.