Yoga Spy

Last summer, I was walking my dog in Kitsilano when I stopped short. What a surprise! An assortment of travel books lay on a grassy boulevard, neatly arranged around a tree. It was exhilarating just to see the place names. Two weeks later, guess what. A new batch of travel books, free for the taking.

Believe it or not, another two weeks later, more travel books! It blew my mind. Poor Stella. She had to endure my stopping, browsing, photographing, and exclaiming over this curious discovery—not once, not twice, but thrice.

Each time, I scrutinized the titles for one of my books. For 15 years I was a travel writer for Lonely Planet*. Don’t get too excited. I didn’t cover far-flung, alien lands, but specialized in the Hawaiian Islands, including the Big Island, where I grew up. In the last batch, I spotted Lonely Planet Kaua‘i, my third assignment.

Becoming a travel writer transformed how I viewed my hometown, island, and state. Until then, my point of view had been governed by my childhood. My Hawai‘i world was limited to people and places I knew growing up. Writing for LP forced me to explore beyond those limits, both geographically (researching every possible attraction, natural or man-made) and socially (talking to countless people, mostly locals, but also tourists).

When I researched that Kaua‘i book, I was on the road, by myself, for several weeks. I rented a car and stayed at vacation rentals around the island. Each day felt nonstop, from checking out hotels and restaurants to trying a surf lesson or zipline tour. Each night I organized my notes and mapped out the next day. I was a sponge, gathering as much info as possible, as quickly as possible.

As I explored the island, I noticed few solo travelers. While it’s not rare to travel alone, it’s not the norm either. It made me think about the meaning of travel. People typically assume that travel is mostly about the destination. But traveling with companions is largely about the relationships. People often spend more time together during a trip than during their normal lives. It can be a chance to reconnect and create shared memories.

In contrast, traveling solo distances you from your normal roles and identities. It can be liberating. It can also be lonesome. It forces you to contend with yourself.

Definition of Solo Travel

You might have your own definition, but here I’ll define it as traveling without family and friends. For clarification, here are some examples, going from solo travel “light” to really going it alone:

• Join a group tour by yourself.
• Go alone to a familiar city for a week.
• Go alone to an unfamiliar city for a week.
• Camp solo in a remote location.
• Travel solo for three months somewhere with an unfamiliar native language.
• Hike the entire 2,650-mile Pacific Crest Trail solo.

As mentioned, based on non-scientific observation, even the lighter versions of solo travel are less common—or less preferred, anyway. Most people are social creatures and unaccustomed to being alone even for one day. (In this digital age, however, are you ever actually alone? Cell phones, text messages, email, FaceTime, Zoom. Unless you totally unplug, you’re never far from social contact.)

Benefits of Traveling Alone

Over the years, I’ve thought about travel: why and how people travel, what it means to them. Regarding solo travel, it’s one of those definitely yes versus definitely no preferences—and strong, divergent opinions are often worth considering.

My first solo trip came in college, “junior year abroad” in England: During spring break, I spent six weeks hostelling around Europe and Britain. I occasionally met up with a friend, but mostly fended for myself. A common rite of passage, perhaps, but astonishing for wide-eyed, sheltered me, who had never traveled abroad or alone before.

I rarely think about that trip (a lifetime ago!), but it’s probably one reason I’ve always seen value in solo travel. Why?

Self-Reliance

Whenever I arrive someplace unfamiliar, I initially feel vague trepidation. I know the place only on a map. Then, after a day or two, there’s a tipping point: I know the main streets and landmarks, I can get from point A to point B, I’m unpacked and settled in my lodgings, I’ve picked out my favorite café. Small victories, but I love that nascent sense of command of a place.

If I’m traveling with others, especially if they’re already familiar with the place, I’m likely to rely on them too much. Only when alone do I fully take charge and become independent.

Connections with Strangers

As an LP writer, I usually did my research alone. I could stop for as long (or as short) as I desired. It also affected my interactions. One to one, I could connect with people more easily—and more deeply. People interact differently if you’re alone versus with others.

If you want to understand another culture—in a firsthand, human-to-human way—it’s ideal to chat face to face with locals. I’m more likely to do so if I’m alone. If with companions, half my attention is always on them, after all.

Sometimes I see a group of friends traveling to faraway places, but talking and joking only with one another. The destination is only a backdrop for hanging out together.

Immersion in Whatever You Enjoy

As a solo traveler, you set your own schedule. You can immerse yourself in whatever you enjoy—shop all afternoon, linger at a museum, go jogging at dawn, try five different golf courses, whatever. When traveling with others, you can’t dictate what to do; you must compromise so your partner or kids aren’t bored or annoyed. Even if you want to “do nothing” for a week, being alone is ideal for pure R&R.

A retreat or course away from home is an ideal way to try solo travel. If focused on a specific subject (e.g., yoga, photography, languages), you’re less likely to feel lonely. Going “undercover” for LP made being a solitary traveler feel purposeful and even a bit glamorous, as if I were a spy or something.

Introspection and “Soul Searching”

Decades ago, a friend was facing big decisions after medical school. He’d had his ups and downs; he said he had to do some “soul searching,” maybe move away. I almost smiled, amused, not due to his dilemmas, but because he was matter-of-fact and usually didn’t talk that way. But I knew what he meant—and I agreed that geographical distance could clear his mind.

Is it possible to contemplate your life when immersed in it? Can you ignore the influences of your close connections? If you’re at a crossroads or just feel stuck in your life, it’s usually best to separate from your normal circle—to think more freely and objectively. A solo trip could give you that space.

A Metaphorical Journey

The hero’s journey is an established literary/philosophical narrative. Hero leaves home, ventures into the unknown, faces daunting trials, triumphs over adversity, returns home transformed and wise. In real life, we’ve all had our own metaphorical journeys, not as dramatic as Odysseus’s or Harry Potter’s, but transformative nevertheless.

A solo trip is a geographical journey—and also a condensed metaphorical journey. After traveling solo, people often talk about more than the destination itself; they describe how they struggled, how they survived, how they see themselves differently.

You might argue that a trip is an artificial journey. Yes, it’s like other self-imposed challenges (running marathons, mountaineering, fasting, taking ice-cold baths) that privileged people create for themselves. Still, a solo trip can be an opportunity for self-discovery.

Cheryl Strayed, who hiked 1,100 miles (approximate half) of the Pacific Crest Trail and wrote a memoir, Wild, about it, said something that resonated with me:

… [T]he beautiful thing about going alone is that every triumph is yours, every consequence of every mistake is yours, everything that you have to figure out is on you. That’s a really powerful experience. And sometimes it is beautiful and positive and exciting[,] and sometimes it’s negative and hard and lonely. I wanted that. I welcomed that….

You need not hike for two months, as Strayed did, for a similar experience. But you do need the courage to be alone.

*Lonely Planet is now owned by Red Ventures and has significantly changed the style and content of its travel books. I don’t write for LP anymore, and I can’t vouch for current quality.

Images: Travel books, Kitsilano, Vancouver, June-July 2023, Luci Yamamoto.