Travel solo
By Jo
I should have been on my way to work with my nose averted to the tube ceiling. But my job had been ditched, my flat was rented out and the usual view of Canary Wharf had been exchanged for the Andes. The latest travel gear had been bought, shopping the adventure stores to the full, searching for the most wind-proof, the warmest, the handiest. The entire continent had been researched to ensure that everything tempting was packed in to my 8-month itinerary. I was more than prepared. All apart from the mental stumbling block of travelling alone on an unfamiliar continent.
I reassured myself that if at any time home seemed more tempting than South America then tickets would be changed and a plane would be caught to remedy the situation. My friends and family were informed of this plan so that they would not be surprised at seeing my face the following month. This did not stop the feeling of bewilderment that clouded my first view of Quito. With a mixture of fake confidence and smiles, I managed to get a cab from the airport, find a hostel and have my first conversation in twelve hours. My dorm-mates were students with endless travel tips that made me feel more and more at a loss. I had a very early night. I had no idea why I had ever thought of coming to South America.
The next plan to get on track was to take a group tour. I booked it the following day with bad bargaining skills and a very nervous money exchange. It was a huge relief that my freshly bought tickets actually allowed me to board a plane and be transported to the nature and beauty of the Galapagos Islands. With a small group around me for the week, I finally stopped wondering how to communicate and just enjoyed my surroundings and relaxed my overworked mind.
With this boost to my confidence, my return to Quito involved a quick hop to the bus station and a journey to allow the real adventure to begin. Stuffed into a local bus surrounded by curious Quechua Indians smelling of smoking fires, suddenly, everything felt right. The newness of the situation was fascinating. I was travelling through the colourful countryside of the continent that I had dreamed of visiting for years. Every tree, mountain and field caught my attention, making me feel more and more alive and more and more aware of how lucky I was.
A Dutch couple in the next town befriended me. We spent the day trekking through the countryside together passing local Indians working the fields, taking in stunning volcanic views and being rushed upon by kids demanding caramelos. Later that day in a tiny hostel on the edge of an ice blue crater lake, the Dutch invited me to continue trekking with them. My plan was to continue the journey by bus. I had to make a decision. Where did I want to go next? Could I change my plans and carry on with the Dutch? It was up to me.
And that was the beauty of travelling alone. I could choose to enjoy a view on my own or take it in with others. If I wanted to change direction, go back on myself, move on at the last minute, anything – that was up to me. There was no one to worry about, no annoying habits to bear, no people forced upon me, no arguments. If I wanted company there were friendly faces to be found at every hostel.
In my world of solo travel the locals were within reach, I sometimes travelled with groups and other times completely alone, deliberately out of the range of other tourists. Only once or twice did I feel a pang for home but with the next bus journey the feeling would be gone and the beauty of the adventure would reassert itself. For eight months I followed my dream. It was a selfish way to travel but on a once in a lifetime journey it was the only way to go.
Jo has been travelling for many years, this was the start of her first trip that led her to take a job as an overland truck driver. The overlanding took her to some of the most beautiful places in South America followed by more of the same (if you could say that) overlanding across the African continent.
