Solo-travelling: brave or foolish?

There is a certain romanticism in the idea of solo travel – one person, one backpack, and the world at your feet. The notion of setting off alone, untethered from routine and obligation, is both exhilarating and terrifying. Some view it as an act of bravery, a declaration of independence in a world that often demands companionship. Others see it as reckless, a foolhardy venture into the unknown without the safety net of familiarity. But, is solo travel truly as bold or foolish as it may seem?

At its core, solo travel offers a unique kind of freedom. There are no compromises, no debates over where to eat, no tensions over differing sightseeing priorities. The itinerary is yours alone to craft, filled only with places that spark curiosity and experiences that resonate on a personal level. There is something undeniably empowering about navigating a foreign city with nothing but instinct…and Google Maps.

The freedom extends to beyond logistics. Solo travel is a test of self-reliance; it challenges one’s ability to adapt, problem-solve, and embrace the unexpected. There is a quiet triumph in successfully ordering food in a language you barely speak, in mastering the quirks of an unfamiliar metro, and in finding the beauty in getting completely and hopelessly lost.

Beyond the practicalities, travelling alone cultivates an intimacy with a place that is difficult to achieve in a group. There is no chatter to buffer the experience, no distractions diluting the immersion. The city speaks directly to the traveller; its rhythm, its sounds, its idiosyncrasies. Sitting alone in a bustling café or wandering through a sun-drenched market, the solo traveller becomes an observer, invisible yet deeply present.

Being on a year abroad in Madrid means plenty of exploring, and a few weeks ago, I became the solo traveller as I took myself on a short trip to Zaragoza. It’s a beautiful city of grand cathedrals, winding alleys and hidden vintage stores that begged to be wandered through. The rain came and went in bursts, leaving the streets glistening, the scent of damp stone lingering in the air.

Lunch was a different adventure. Sitting alone in a buzzing restaurant, surrounded by the hum of conversation and clinking glasses, I felt strangely conspicuous. But as I sat there, watching life go on beyond the window, I realised no one truly cared. The discomfort was mine alone, and the moment I let it go, I found a quiet joy in simply being present.

But freedom has its price. While solo travel can be deeply rewarding, it also demands a heightened level of awareness. Without a companion to share the weight of decision making, every responsibility- navigation, safety, budgeting- falls on one set of shoulders. The risks of being alone in an unfamiliar place are real, particularly for those travelling to regions where solo adventurers, especially women, may be more vulnerable to harassment or theft. For many female travellers, solo journeys require an additional layer of caution, from choosing well-lit streets to researching the cultural norms of each destination. The line between confidence and risk is thinner for women, making their independence on the road both a triumph and a challenge.

Loneliness, too, is an unavoidable reality. Even the most self-sufficient travellers can find themselves yearning for shared experiences, for the simple comfort of a familiar face at the end of a long day. There are evenings when dining alone feels like less of a choice and more like a quiet exile, when the silence of the room amplifies the distance from home.

The question, then, is whether the regards of solo travel outweigh these challenges. Can one truly be free and safe at the same time?

Perhaps the answer lies not in choosing between adventure and caution, but in striking a balance between the two. The modern world offers solo travellers a wealth of tools to bridge the gap – apps for navigation, forums for connecting with other travellers, local guides who can offer both companionship and security. Smart preparations, from researching safe neighbourhoods to sharing itineraries with friends back home, can transform what might seem like reckless solitude in a well-planned adventure.

And then, of course, there is the kindness of strangers. One of the paradoxes of being alone is that is often leads to the richest connections. Without the protective bubble of familiar company, solo travellers are more likely to meet locals, strike up conversations with fellow wanderers, and forge fleeting yet meaningful friendships. In hostels, on trains, in cafés, there are endless opportunities to weave moments of companionship into the solitude, to experience the world not just as an outsider but as a participant.

So is solo travelling brave or foolish? Neither.

It is brave to step into the unknown, to trust your own resilience, and to navigate a world that often feels built for pairs and groups. But it would be foolish to do so without awareness, without preparation, and a healthy respect for the very real risks that come with solitude.

Perhaps the real beauty of solo travel is that it forces us to redefine both bravery and foolishness. It teaches that courage is not the absence of fear, but the decision to move forward despite it. It shows that being alone does not mean lonely, and that independence does not mean isolation.

In a month’s time, I am embarking on a six-day pilgrimage along the Camino de Santiago. While it will be a solo journey in name, I know that, like all great adventures, it will be shaped by people I meet along the way, the fleeting conversations, the shared meals, the quiet moments of understanding between strangers. For those who choose to go it alone, the road is uncertain – but is that not the very essence of adventure?