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Solo travel isn’t about escaping. It’s about expanding. From safety to social connection, planning to personal growth, Forward Travel’s definitive guide explores how Australians can go it alone with confidence. Learn practical preparation, mindset shifts, and field-tested strategies to travel smarter, safer, and more freely anywhere in the world.
Sometimes, the best travel companion is the one staring back in the mirror.
There’s a certain silence at the airport gate when you realise no one’s coming with you. No companion holding your passport, no last-minute debate about whether to get sushi or a muffin. Just you, a boarding pass, and the sudden realisation that you can sit anywhere you like.
Solo travel doesn’t start at your destination. It begins in that exact moment of self-possession. That flutter in your stomach? That’s not fear. That’s freedom stretching its legs.
Australians have always had a knack for going far. It’s practically a national trait. We live on an island continent so distant from everywhere else that going solo feels like a rite of passage. From backpackers cutting across South America to retirees tracing railways through Europe, the solo traveller is quietly rewriting the idea of what adventure looks like.
And in the last decade, solo travel has exploded. According to Tourism Research Australia, more than a third of all domestic overnight trips are made alone—that’s roughly 40.5 million journeys each year. The trend isn’t limited to the young or the fearless; travellers in their 40s and 50s make up 36% of those trips, while nearly a quarter come from over-60s.
So, if you’ve been quietly thinking, “Maybe I could do that,” the answer is simple: you can. And this is your guide to doing it brilliantly.
At first glance, solo travel seems like an exercise in bravery. You eat alone, you make all the decisions, you sometimes get lost. But in truth, it’s less about courage and more about curiosity: the desire to see how the world (and you) look without the familiar backdrop.
You notice things. The taste of coffee in Kyoto. The morning light in Lisbon. The way your confidence expands quietly after finding your way through a foreign metro. You begin to trust your instincts and, perhaps for the first time in years, they start trusting you back.
The joy of solo travel isn’t just what you see. It’s the permission it gives you to change your mind, to scrap an itinerary because a stranger suggested a hidden beach, or to spend three hours watching life unfold from a café window without apology.
Australians are naturally wired for independent travel. Our geography demands it: long flights, big distances, and the quiet confidence that comes from being self-sufficient. When you grow up in a country where “a quick drive” can mean six hours, navigating a train system in Prague feels almost meditative.
More importantly, we’re culturally open. We talk to strangers, we’re curious, and we have an almost cheeky optimism that tends to disarm people abroad. It’s a perfect foundation for solo exploration.
Solo female travel in particular is surging here: nearly two-thirds of Australian women say they’re interested in or already travelling alone. Not because they want to be isolated, but because they want to feel independent.
If you’re curious about which destinations are getting the most love from Down Under, check out the Australian Travel Hotlist.
Let’s be honest. “Winging it” only works if you’ve done some homework first. The best solo trips balance spontaneity with solid preparation.
Start with research that goes beyond Pinterest: read trip reports, scan Reddit threads, and check official advisories. Learn the small local details, like why Italians avoid cappuccinos after 11 am or why Japanese trains will never wait for you. These nuances turn travel from sightseeing into understanding.
Then there’s safety, which should be baked into your planning, not tacked on later. Leave an itinerary with someone you trust. Check Smartraveller before you leave. Have backups of your ID, a spare debit card, and a digital copy of your passport stored securely online.
It sounds unromantic—until your bag disappears and your calmness becomes your superpower.
Every solo traveller falls into one (or several) archetypes at some point:
The one practising bravery in small doses. Maybe it starts with a weekend in Hobart or a food crawl through Singapore. The learning curve is steep but rewarding; every meal eaten alone is a quiet victory.
Cautious, capable, and increasingly common. She walks with confidence, chooses her accommodation wisely, and knows the fine art of saying “no, thank you” firmly but politely.
Often a retiree or empty-nester rediscovering autonomy. With time, savings, and patience, they travel deeper through Patagonia’s trails or across Europe’s rivers, proving that age is a poor excuse for inertia.
Thrives with structure, sensory awareness, and honest boundaries. They know that travel doesn’t have to mean chaos; it can be a beautifully managed flow.
They find friends before breakfast, join hostel dinners, and collect WhatsApp groups like postcards.
Each version teaches you something about yourself. By the third or fourth trip, you’ll realise you’ve become a blend of all of them.
Here’s the secret no one tells you: the first 48 hours are rarely perfect. You’ll fumble with SIM cards, get slightly lost, and question every decision between jet lag yawns. It’s fine. Everyone feels that way.
The trick is to anchor yourself. Go for a short walk to orientate your senses. Find a local café and become a temporary regular. Do one simple, low-stakes activity: a walking tour, a museum, or a market.
By day three, the city starts to reveal its rhythm, and you realise you’re not a visitor anymore. You’re a participant.
Field note: Don’t post every moment in real time. Leave your stories to ripen. Memory works better when it’s lived, not documented.
There’s a delicate dance in solo travel: balancing openness with caution.
Be curious, but don’t be careless. Talk to people, but trust your instincts. Most solo travellers develop an intuitive radar that’s sharper than any app.
Join a cooking class. Sit at communal tables. Go on a local walking tour. These are natural connection points that let you meet people without pressure. And if something feels off? Walk away. Gracefully, firmly, always.
Remember, and write it down or even tattoo it if you must: Your gut is the most underrated travel guide you’ll ever have.
Lost wallets, missed trains, dodgy hostels—they happen. But in retrospect, they become the stories you’ll tell forever.
Say you misbook your flight from Athens to Santorini and ended up on an overnight ferry instead. “It’s awful,” you might moan, until you meet a violinist from Thessaloniki who played for everyone on deck.
That’s the alchemy of solo travel: disaster turns to discovery because there’s no one to distract you from the moment.
When something goes wrong, breathe. Pause. Ask for help. Locals are often more generous than guidebooks suggest. Remember: you’re not proving anything by suffering in silence.
Accommodation choices are the mood-setters of a solo trip.
Hostels aren’t just for 20-year-olds; they’re social ecosystems. Choose smaller, well-rated ones with communal kitchens if you want conversation. Hotels offer privacy and calm—great for decompressing after intense travel days. Airbnbs or serviced apartments suit the long-game traveller who wants a “home base” feel.
And always—always—book the first night before you land. The comfort of knowing where you’ll sleep is worth more than any “flexibility.”
There’s nothing glamorous about losing your wallet abroad. Split your cards, carry a backup stash of cash, and set up mobile alerts.
Get travel insurance, the comprehensive kind that covers hospital stays and evacuation. It’s the least exciting purchase you’ll ever be grateful for.
Technology helps, too:
Preparation doesn’t kill spontaneity. It creates the space for it.
Here’s the paradox: travelling alone often makes you more connected.
When there’s no familiar face to retreat behind, you become open: to conversations, to cultures, to moments you’d normally miss. You’re forced to be present, and presence, it turns out, is addictive.
You’ll share meals with strangers who feel like old friends. You’ll swap playlists on trains, find hidden corners of cities, and surprise yourself with how adaptable you are.
And when loneliness shows up, because it will, you’ll learn to meet it gently. Sometimes you’ll journal it out, sometimes you’ll order dessert, sometimes you’ll just watch the world go by. That’s all part of the story.
Solo travel looks different when you start 10,000 kilometres from everywhere. It makes Australians deliberate travellers: planners by necessity, storytellers by instinct.
We bring our dry humour to border queues and our down-to-earth warmth to foreign hostels. Whether it’s a digital nomad working from Chiang Mai or a teacher on long service leave exploring the Amalfi Coast, Aussies tend to turn “alone” into “connected.”
We’re the ones striking up a chat with the café owner, giving tips to fellow travellers, and finding meaning in the in-between.
That blend of practicality and playfulness makes Australian solo travellers some of the best in the world.
Solo travel isn’t about escaping. It’s about expanding.
It’s that first coffee you order in a new city without a plan. The tiny victories: navigating a foreign train, reading a menu, finding a sunset spot. The quiet pride when you realise you’ve done it all yourself.
So take the leap. Start with a weekend away. Book that one-way flight. Trust that the world is mostly kind, and that you’re more capable than you’ve been told.
And if you’d like a little guidance before you go, Forward Travel can help design a trip that balances adventure with ease: solo-friendly itineraries, small-group options, and the kind of local insight that keeps you safe without dampening your spirit.
Because travelling alone doesn’t mean you have to plan alone.
Download this checklist for free (no details needed)
Ready to plan your first (or next) solo journey?
Explore Forward Travel’s solo-friendly destinations and custom itineraries, or chat with David Smyth for a personalised solo travel consult: https://www.forwardtravel.com.au/contact-us













