Angel Hellyer

I know I can’t complain too much. I’m typing this while sitting in front of a beautiful ocean scene on Tanna Island, Vanuatu. There is the sound of waves on rocks, wind through the palm trees, and birds tweeting in the coconut palms behind me. (Annoyingly, Common Myna birds, but I’m trying not to think about how they’re an invasive species.)

And I don’t really want to complain. But this is my first international holiday as a solo traveller, and it has been an enlightening experience so far, in both good and bad ways.

Let’s start with the good.

I have planned this holiday to be all about me. About what I want to see and do. About giving me a chance to let go after three extremely stressful years, both personally and professionally. My divorce—the closure of a 20-year relationship—was finalised just over a fortnight ago. And after this holiday, I’m going home to try to build my own comms consultancy business, having quit my full-time job after a series of toxic workplaces that left me burnt out and lacking resilience. Although I’m excited about starting my own business, until I get some clients, I will be unemployed and relying on savings.

For a person who grew up in poverty, that is terrifying. Add to that being a female, queer and neurodiverse person who knows that those factors will statistically limit my ability to attract clients.

So this trip is a big deal for me. It is a delineation between what was and what is coming. About who I was and who I want to be, how I want my life to be.

I’m now nearly halfway through. I spent three nights in Port Vila, exploring the main island, Efate, and doing a short trip to the nearby Lelepa Island. I’m onto my second day on Tanna Island, which I chose because visiting an active volcano has been on my bucket list for a long time.

Tomorrow, I return to Port Vila for another day of learning about the local culture and history, after which I have six nights booked in a resort.

Now, resorts are not something I would usually do. The sheer idea of doing very little other than relaxing for six days is daunting to me. But I’m challenging myself to stop for a time, because I haven’t stopped in the last three years despite them having thrown so very many emotional challenges in my path.

Even today, when I should just be stopping, I am writing this!

Anyway, back to the other good stuff about travelling solo.

On the tour to Lelepa Island, there was a couple in the group who were constantly bickering. They’d had some miscommunication regarding money for the tour, and they kept going back to that throughout the day. I couldn’t help but think that I was so glad I was travelling on my own so I didn’t have anything like that! Not that I would ever want a relationship like that anyway.

Another great thing is that I have complete freedom in how I spend my time outside of the booked items. I can just decide I’m going to have a nap and not worry I’ll be disappointing someone who wants to do something else. I can potter around on the beaches, or watch a Netflix show or sit and read, depending purely on what I feel like at the time.

But on to the negatives, there is a loneliness in that freedom.

I deliberately chose a country where English is one of the official languages, as I knew I’d be scared travelling alone where I don’t know the language and can’t easily ask for help. But, as most Ni-Vanuatu people speak Bislama as their main language, it is still difficult to connect with the locals at times. And the people I encounter are usually either paid in the tourism industry, so are being deferential to me, or are locals going about their business and I don’t want to disrupt their days.

I also found it strange to not have someone to talk with about the beautiful things I was seeing. A person to point out wildlife or views to. To gasp with at the magnificence of seeing lava spewing from a volcano, or muse with about the sheer forces behind the rumblings in the air and the desolation of the ash plain.

When I’ve been overseas before, it was generally with my ex-husband (except for a short work trip and a cruise with some friends). Together, we saw New Zealand, Italy, Japan and the South Pacific. We shared those moments of joy and would spend hours walking over what we loved, or how what we did or saw inspired us.

As you might be able to tell from the fact that I’m writing this and work in communication for a living, I love to communicate with other people. To share and learn together. I don’t have that on this trip, for one of the first times in my adult life.

Another major issue with solo travel is that everything is designed for couples. Of course, there is the well-established concept of the ‘singles tax’, and I understand that I have to pay a full room rate for accommodation because I still use a full room. I am not so sure about many providers’ refusal to discount packages that include things like breakfast, given there is just one of me, but I don’t feel strongly enough to fight that.

However, I have discovered that many small tour operators will only run the tours if there are at least two people. This has led to three tour cancellations out of four tours I have booked so far.

The first was a bit sad, as it was a sailing cruise I really wanted to go on, but I was able to get something else that satisfied most of the things I had been interested in. The second was more devastating: arriving on Tanna Island to be told that the volcano tour I’d booked for that afternoon wouldn’t be going ahead.

Now, I’ve already spoiled the tension here by revealing earlier that I did end up going to Mount Yasur. But that was only because I worked with the agent who arranged this part of my travel to find a tour being run by another accommodation provider. In between, there was about three hours of stress, of not knowing whether I’d be able to visit the volcano when that was the main reason for choosing Vanuatu.

I went snorkelling in that time, but my mind kept going back to worrying about the tour, wondering if there was anything else I could do. Although I would be doing that a bit anyway with another person, I think it was worse because I worried that I had missed something and didn’t have anyone else to talk it over with, to seek views or ideas from. And I’m not conceited enough to think I would have thought of everything.

Then today, the reason I have time to write this is because there was no tour available for me to go on that was included in my package, because none of the other guests had booked any and they won’t run it for a single person unless I pay another person’s spot.

(Though, I did get the package amount I’d paid for that converted into a credit to the day spa for a massage later, so I’m not too upset.)

But back onto the topic of stress, I find travelling solo simultaneously more and less stressful. On the less side, I can just make decisions about how to react to challenging situations. I don’t need to consult another person about what they want to do. But I also don’t have someone to help me, to hold my hand when I need reassurance.

Yesterday, on the way to the volcano, there were four occasions when I thought we might not make it. Four roadblocks (rather literally).

First there was a road that was closed due to construction. So we went back and took another one.

Then there was a road under construction, one half built up a steep rise and concrete being laid for the other half. As in, literally being laid right then, with the cement truck taking up the completed lane. So we had to wait until the truck was done and had come back down the hillside.

Not long later, another road that was half-constructed, where excavators were taking up the existing lane. After a long chat with some of the construction workers, our driver ended up driving on the uncompacted dirt where the new stretch of road would be built.

Finally, there was a section where the road had given way. An excavator was there, filling it in with dirt, but it was still a fair drop down. One of the locals gave the sign that we couldn’t pass. My heart sank. I held back tears. But in the end, the excavator was able to fill it in enough that, with the help of other locals providing guidance, we were able to get through.

These were on top of the extremely poor dirt tracks and the river that had flooded the road at one point.

This all took place over the course of about two hours. In the ute, there was me, another tourist (from South Africa, who I had not met before and wasn’t very talkative), and our driver, who didn’t speak much English or keep us updated what was going on.

I had no one to talk to about how I was feeling. About my fears that I wouldn’t make it to the volcano. About the stress of the constant struggles. Or the fact that I wish I’d worn a strong sports bra given the tracks were so bad at some points that the 4WD with raised suspension was having trouble navigating it. Then again, the tyres were basically bald and the brakes squealed, so maybe it would have been better in a more maintained vehicle.

Either way, I was stuck in my own mind, which can be a weird and scary place even at the best of times!

Having someone with me can keep me in the moment, something that I struggle with. So I’ve had to actively work on doing that myself. It’s obviously not always going well, since I’m currently writing this rather than being in the moment. But at least I think I’m doing better than I would have in the past.

I also find that I give up easier on my own. This morning, I was planning to check out a black sand beach noted in the accommodation book in the bungalow. But I couldn’t find the way, and I felt bad about asking the nearby locals who were obviously busy doing their own thing. So, I gave up and went snorkelling again in the same place as yesterday instead, because that was something I knew.

When I’m with another person, the fear of letting them down tends to overcome my fear of uncertainty. I’m not saying that having competing fears is necessarily a positive thing. I wish I was more adventurous, driven by excitement instead of fear. But I know myself well enough to know who I am and what I’m like.

Interestingly, I find I tend to get tired more easily when travelling alone. I think it’s because I listen to my body more without the distraction of another person, and interpret every little twinge as a sign that I need to take it easy. Or I fear that, if I go further, I won’t have the energy to return, and I’ll be stuck in the middle of nowhere alone.

Either way, I limit myself. Limit my own experiences.

I plan to speak to the reception desk after my massage to get better directions, in the hopes of going either this afternoon or tomorrow. Whether that plan will eventuate, I don’t know.

(Edit: It didn’t, but that’s because the weather started looking like showers and potential storms, so I decided it wasn’t the best time to go for a long walk. Also, after getting a delightful massage, I didn’t really feel like much physical exertion! I hope those are the real reasons and not just my mind masking that it’s actually the fear.)

So, there are my very rambling views on solo travel, after not even five days of it, though it has felt like much longer.

But I’m still excited about the rest of this trip. And amazed that I’m not even half-way through it yet. There is still so much for me to do and see.

I hope less stress, though!