When I talk about my solo adventures—whether it’s wild camping in remote parts of Scotland or navigating unfamiliar European roads with just my panniers and a smattering of the local language—the reaction I most often get is: “Aren’t you brave!”

It always makes me pause because I don’t feel brave. Not in the way they mean.

Familiarity

Bravery, in my mind, implies fear and a conscious effort to overcome it. But fear isn’t a big part of my experience. When I’m away, I don’t lie awake worrying about things that might go wrong. I take sensible steps—tool kit, first aid kit, credit card, a loose plan—and trust that the universe (and my own wits) will do the rest.

Maybe it’s not bravery but familiarity. Or a kind of earned confidence—each journey feeding the next, like a muscle growing stronger. The first solo trip might have felt bold. The fifth just felt like me being me.

Managing the Mishaps

And when things go sideways—and they do—it’s not all laughter and sunshine. I won’t pretend I’m amused when I realise I’ve gone 10  kilometres in the wrong direction. But I’ve learned to keep my sense of humour on a low simmer. Not the belly-laugh kind, but the sort that thinks, Well, at least this will make a good story.

That kind of outlook keeps frustration from spiralling. It allows space for delight—because often enough, those missteps lead somewhere better: a perfect view, a welcoming cafe or pub, or an unexpected conversation that lingers in memory.

“When things go wrong, at least I know I’ve got a decent story coming.”

The Gift of Patience

I’ve also learned to be patient—with myself, with the road, with the weather. There’s no point rushing through an experience just to tick it off. Time spent sitting with a cup of tea in a bus shelter, or coaxing myself up one last hill, has taught me the value of waiting things out. That, too, grows with experience.

Early Lessons

I’ve been depending on myself since I was seven years old. That’s when my parents moved abroad and I went to live with my grandparents. Boarding school followed at ten. My older sister was with me, but emotionally, we navigated that time in different ways. I had to figure things out on my own—how to feel safe, how to manage changes beyond my control or understanding.

Solo travel, in many ways, feels like a continuation of that quiet self-reliance. Only now, it’s a freedom I choose. There’s a real joy in having the choice  to go wherever I want, when I want, and noticing things that only come when you’re alone.

The Kindness of Strangers

When I’m talking about my solo travels, a lot of  people ask about the fear of stranger danger.  But I can honestly say  I can’t remember having a bad experience with another person on the road. The only real mishaps have come from my own decisions—poor planning, wrong turns, or misplaced optimism. I’m sure there are bad people out there. I’ve just been lucky enough not to meet them. If I meet someone who does seem grumpy or short-tempered, it’s likely due to something else they’re worrying about, not me. It’s a reminder not to take things personally. Sometimes, a smile or a step back is enough to improve the mood.

“I don’t remember having a bad experience with another person on the road.”

On the contrary, I’ve had strangers go out of their way to help, and that unexpected generosity is one of the most valuable rewards of traveling solo..

Well-Practiced

So when people say, “aren’t you brave?”, I sometimes want to reply: No, I’m just well-practiced.

But I understand where they’re coming from. We all carry our own maps of risk. Our own inherited fears. Our own stories about what’s possible. And sometimes, just by being out there doing what I love, I’m quietly rewriting those stories—for myself and maybe for others too.

One Story Among Many

This blog, in the end, is about just that—the stories of how I’ve become “brave,” one step, one wheel turn, one unexpected conversation at a time. Not in the heroic sense. But in the way that experience shapes you quietly, patiently, until you look back and realise how far you’ve come.

The reasons I travel solo, and feel at ease doing so, are rooted in my particular history. They won’t be the same reasons that inspire other people to explore the world on their own. And I think that’s something worth listening to.

Because we all carry our own mix of fears, humour, history, and hope when we set off into the world. This is my story. What’s yours?

Feel free to comment if my story resonates with you.

Recommended Further Reading

If you find inspiration in the journey of becoming “brave” through experience, these are some of the books that have inspired me.

Books:

1. Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed
   A memoir about Strayed’s solo hike along the Pacific Crest Trail, this book offers a poignant story of self-discovery, resilience, and healing.
2. The Art of Travel by Alain de Botton
   A philosophical exploration of travel, examining how the act of traveling can reshape our perceptions of the world and ourselves.
3. Mountaineering in Scotland (1947)  by William (Bill) Murray
   A powerful tribute to resilience, recalling the freedom of the Highlands from a WWII prison camp.

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