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There is an ancient saying, traditionally attributed to the Chinese philosopher Laozi: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
I have heard those words many times throughout my life, but lately I have been contemplating them differently. We usually concentrate on taking that first step, on having the courage to begin. But we often overlook another point: sometimes, you must take that first step alone.
A few days ago, I left Sydney and boarded a plane for Phuket, Thailand, where I am spending 21 days training, observing, learning and challenging myself. I travelled here alone.
This isn’t my first solo journey, and I doubt it will be my last. I have travelled alone before, and I also experienced something similar while walking the Camino Primitivo across Spain. But every time I find myself somewhere unfamiliar without the comfort of people I know around me, I rediscover how complicated being alone actually is.
People often discuss solo travel as freedom, and they are right. But they rarely talk about the other side of that freedom.
Most of us love travelling with someone. We go with our partners, families or friends. We plan together, eat together, laugh when things go wrong and argue occasionally about where to go next. Even those little disagreements become part of the memory.
When you travel alone, all of that disappears.
Suddenly, everything belongs to you. You choose when to wake up, eat, walk, train, and see things. You are not required to negotiate with anyone or enquire about someone else’s preferences. If I want to get up early and watch the sunrise, I can. If I want to train twice in one day, nobody needs convincing. If I want to sit quietly over a coffee and watch the world go past, nobody is waiting for me to finish.
There is something incredibly liberating about that.
But after a while, another feeling starts appearing.
When something beautiful happens, there is nobody immediately beside you to share it with.
You see an incredible sunset and instinctively want to say, “Look at that.” You finish a difficult training session and want to tell somebody how you feel. You discover a great restaurant, see something funny on the street or experience one of those small moments that somehow makes travelling worthwhile.
Then you realise that no one is sitting beside you.
For me, this is far more challenging than organising flights, accommodation or transportation. You can usually solve those practical problems.
The more difficult aspect is the absence of someone immediately available to share the highs and lows, to seek an opinion from, or to turn to when uncertainty arises.
And yes, sometimes fear appears as well.
I don’t think we should be embarrassed about admitting that. I certainly am not.
Human beings are social creatures. We need conversation, friendship, companionship and connection. We require individuals with whom to share laughter and, at times, those who can reassure us that everything will be alright. Being independent doesn’t suddenly remove those very human needs.
But perhaps there is something else we need to learn as well.
We need to know that when those people aren’t physically beside us, we can still function. We can still make decisions. We can still progress.
Travelling alone has a basic way of exposing how much we normally rely on other people.
When I arrived in Thailand, I was entering a country where I don’t speak the language. I had no friends awaiting my arrival, and no one beside me to assume responsibility for any issues.
If I didn’t understand something, I needed to work it out. If I wasn’t sure where I was going, I needed to ask. If plans changed, I needed to adapt. If I made the wrong decision, there wasn’t much value in looking around for somebody else to blame.
You quickly learn to use common sense, awareness and patience. More importantly, you begin learning to trust your judgement.
I remember experiencing exactly that feeling on the Camino Primitivo in Spain.
Walking hundreds of kilometres teaches you many things, but one of the most significant lessons for me was that eventually somebody else’s encouragement can only take you so far. People can tell you that you are strong. They can tell you to continue. They can wish you luck.
But nobody can walk the kilometres for you.
When your body hurts and the road continue disappearing over the horizon, eventually the decision becomes yours: continue, stop, rest or turn around.
That experience changed the way I perceive travelling alone because I realised it was never really about travel.
It was about life.
I sometimes wonder whether people are afraid of travelling alone or whether we are more afraid of what happens when all the familiar noise around us disappears.
Think about an ordinary day.
There is work, family, meetings, emails, messages, television, social media, appointments and responsibilities. Somebody always wants something from us. Even when we are physically alone, distractions from our phones almost always accompany us.
Then imagine waking up thousands of kilometres away from your normal life.
Nobody is telling you where you need to be.
Nobody is organising your day.
Nobody is responsible for making that day meaningful except you.
Suddenly a very simple question appears:
What am I going to do today?
That question can make people uncomfortable because it forces them to confront an answer they cannot avoid.
If I waste the day, that was my decision. If I don’t explore, that’s my decision. If fear prevents me from doing something I genuinely wanted to experience, ultimately that is also my decision.
That level of freedom brings responsibility with it.
And perhaps that is one of the greatest gifts of travelling alone.
You start listening to yourself again.
I would rather not romanticise solitude because there are moments when travelling alone genuinely feels lonely.
Occasionally I would love to have somebody sitting across the table from me. At times, I would prefer to share a joke in real time rather than send a message to someone later. Sometimes it would be enjoyable simply to ask, “What do you think we should do?”
I don’t see those feelings as weakness.
If anything, being alone has reminded me how valuable virtuous people are.
But it has also reminded me of something else: the people in our lives should enrich our journey, not become the only reason we are capable of taking it.
Eventually, each of us will encounter challenges that we must face alone.
It might be something other than an airport in Thailand or a long road through Spain. It could be starting a business, changing careers, ending a relationship, pursuing a dream nobody understands, recovering from failure or making a decision that other people disagree with.
People who love you may stand beside you. They can advise you, encourage you and support you.
But there will always be certain steps they cannot take for you.
Those steps are yours.
This isn’t me telling you to book a ticket tomorrow and travel across the world alone.
You can start much closer to home.
Take yourself somewhere you have never been. Go for a long walk without needing somebody to accompany you. Have lunch alone without immediately reaching for your phone. Sit with a coffee and watch the world around you. Give yourself enough silence to hear what is actually happening inside your head.
At first, you might not like everything you hear.
You may discover uncertainty. You may discover fears you have been avoiding. You might even discover that being alone is harder than you expected.
But if you stay there long enough, you may also discover something incredibly valuable.
You may discover that you trust yourself.
I left Sydney alone and arrived in Phuket alone, but I am beginning to understand again that the most important distance on this journey isn’t measured in kilometres.
It is what happens inside us when nobody else is there to make the next decision.
Love your people. Build friendships. Treasure your family. Enjoy companionship and never underestimate how important human connection is.
But also learn how to walk by yourself.
Because sooner or later, life will put each of us on a road where nobody else can take the next step.
When that day arrives, don’t spend your life standing at the beginning of the road waiting for somebody to come with you.
Take the first step.
The road may be yours to walk alone, but that doesn’t mean you are lost.
