Among a myriad of factors, the impact(s) of the Covid-19 pandemic, social media, and shifting generational attitudes to relationships have culminated in travellers more willing to forego companions and benefit from the potential freedom and flexibility offered by solo-travel.

I’ve travelled extensively (read: gone on a lot of holidays, I can’t lay claim to the image of an intrepid backpacker), enjoying many trips with my partner, family, and close friends; I’d never thought of myself as curtailed by their presence or beholdent to their preferences (at least not consciously, or to the extent it had a negative impact on my experience).
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Resultantly, it was circumstance rather than an enlightened quest for independence which led to my venturing solo to a strikingly beautiful, somewhat remote, area of the Tuscan coast, Monte Argentario.

There’s something about booking a trip by yourself that feels especially indulgent; perhaps, because it is (accommodation is double the cost assuming you would typically split it with a partner). Nevertheless, I bit the bullet and soon set off, envisaging myself as Julia Roberts in ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ (minus the loving and praying).

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I have a host of transportive memories from the trip, feelings of joy so intense I laughed out loud. Granted, Monte Argentario is beautiful, and most people I know would enjoy eating pasta in the sun, but the bouts of happiness so strong they felt like jolts of electricity made me feel guilty; I couldn’t understand why I felt so free.

'I couldn't understand why I felt so free'

On the majority of trips I can remember, I have, of my own volition, planned every detail, putting weeks of research into elaborate itineraries. Monte Argentario was no different but, in moments when things didn‘t go perfectly ‘to plan’, my reaction diverged. None of the situations I faced were ‘bad’, but historically I haven’t been so quick to shrug it off when faced with uncontrollable delays or inconveniences.  

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I have a host of transportive memories from the trip, feelings of joy so intense I laughed out loud. Granted, Monte Argentario is beautiful, and most people I know would enjoy eating pasta in the sun, but the bouts of happiness so strong they felt like jolts of electricity made me feel guilty; I couldn’t understand why I felt so free.

On the majority of trips I can remember, I have, of my own volition, planned every detail, putting weeks of research into elaborate itineraries. Monte Argentario was no different but, in moments when things didn‘t go perfectly ‘to plan’, my reaction diverged. None of the situations I faced were ‘bad’, but historically I haven’t been so quick to shrug it off when faced with uncontrollable delays or inconveniences.  

On any other trip, or even day-to-day in London, it struck me how we can assume the responsibility of somebody else’s experience. If events fall short of my expectations with company, I worry about how they are impacted, likely invoking a self-fulfilling prophecy and, ironically, causing tension.

This made me think about the rise in solo travelling; were we able to collectively relinquish the responsibility of other’s experiences, would we enjoy the same high from our own company? Travelling solo is unlikely to replace or even replicate a shared adventure with someone I love, but it enabled me to hold a mirror to my behaviour in an environment outside of my day-to-day.  

Thank you for reading my musings; the pictures below are of the beautiful spot I stayed in and the surrounding area- do get in touch if you‘re interested in visiting Monte Argentario, or after help planning a solo-adventure of your own!

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