Following my separation from my ex-husband,  I took myself on my very first solo trip – a road trip down the Pacific Coast Highway, and felt it was a story worth sharing with you. If for no other reason than to reassure and convince those of you that might perceive holidaying alone as the ultimate low of being single and find the prospect of lone travel no less than terrifying, that it can in fact be an incredibly empowering, and freeing experience. Before I took this trip, I too shared those reservations – believe me!! 

I don’t recall the exact moment I made the decision I was going to take this trip, but it was something I had always wanted to do. Of course, previously I’d anticipated that this would be a holiday I would take with my husband at some point in the future. We had always had fabulous holidays and had travelled to the States a few times before. Each time I had fallen a little more in love with the US of A.  

I love their flamboyancy, exceptional hospitality, and the fact that each and every state has it’s own climate and culture. A road trip that takes you through a handful of states can feel like a mini around the world trip, with each of their unique cuisines and traditions. 

Now I LOVE a project, and planning a trip is my favourite kind of project! 

I had done a ton of research in preparation for the trip, which of course involved the usual ‘must see/ do’  in each place (which seemed grow daily),  but also where I was staying, not only the hotel but the area of each destination. It was a priority for me, never having undertaken a trip alone before, that I felt comfortable and safe in my surroundings. This was going to be a once in a life time for me. Sure, I may well travel alone again but there would never be another first, and in the context of how I had come to be travelling alone, it felt all the more important to get it ‘right’. 

In anticipation of the fact that I would be feeling the need to run away, I picked a date to travel, by which I was certain that my Decree Absolute would have landed. (As it turned out, my divorce, having been significantly delayed, was in fact barely underway by the time I travelled). 

When I told people what I was planning, the response was mixed. Some thought I was mad to travel to the States alone, and shared horror stories of gun crime and car jacking, but most were excited for me and those that knew me well, thought it brave. This was huge for me! I had never been exactly what you’d call an independent woman. I left home very young, at sixteen, but had moved in with a boyfriend and almost immediately preceding that, moved in with another boyfriend (my now my ex -husband). So I had never really done anything completely alone before. 

I had also never been an intrepid explorer. I wasn’t the girl, who following graduation chucked a couple of pairs of knickers in a backpack and headed off to Asia for a gap year, and I certainly hadn’t become that girl overnight! I love to experience new places and try new things, but my threshold for the unknown and danger was fairly low. Whilst I had been fortunate enough to visit some incredible places, it had always been safe in the knowledge that I was not alone and knew where I’d be, when, how long I’d be there, and that I had a comfy hotel room to return to at the end of the day! 

Now, I appreciate this may not be a big deal to some. There are women that sail round the world solo, that climb Everest alone, or simply take trips without company all the time, and I have nothing but admiration for those ladies. But for me this was a massive leap from the cosy confines of my previous life, to an experience totally outside my comfort zone. 

I had intended to take the trip from LA, North to San Francisco but having been advised that if I did it the other way around I would have the coast line on my side of the road thus making it easier to pull in and admire the views during the journey, I changed my mind and decided to travel South.  This turned out to be really good advice! 

I figured if you’re going to do a road trip like this you may as well do in true American style, so I booked myself a convertible Mustang, which is, as I later discovered about three times the size of the tiny car I drove at the time, and that combined with the fact everything was on the other side meant gauging the space necessary to pass other vehicles took some real getting used to!! The first couple of days felt like I was driving a tank! 

The night before I left I went to see my family. After a lovely meal I headed home, only half way there to be overcome with emotion and to find myself turning around to go back to tell them all I loved them! Anyone would have thought I was emigrating to Outer Mongolia the way I felt that night! 

It was an inevitability early start the next morning and filled with excitement and anxiety in equal measures, I made my way to Heathrow Airport. 

I’d never been to an airport alone before and I became aware of how, on previous trips I’d mindlessly followed my husband to the check in desk, through security, and to the boarding gate, all without any real awareness or need to think for myself. 

After I’d gone through all the necessary airport procedures, and checked for the hundredth time that I had my passport, money, and tickets, I made my way to the duty free shop where I became blissfully aware I could browse for as long as I wanted without an impatient husband in tow! After sampling every perfume on offer, I left feeling very pleased with my bargain stash and went off to hunt down some breakfast. 

Despite having to be at the airport four hours in advance of my flight and actually being there with six hours to spare, the time flew and before I knew it I was boarding the plane. Shit! Why on earth had I thought this was a good idea?! 

I’m flying to America for almost three weeks on. my. own?! What if I get mugged, crash the car, get shot?! What if the plane crashes, or there’s a terrorist attack? What if I lose my luggage, money, passport…. what if , what if, what if? 

What if I have a bloody good time? 

That familiar feeling you only get when stepping off a cold stuffy plane in to the holiday heat, hit me as I made my way down the steps and on to the shuttle bus that would ferry me to the terminal. 

As I entered the airport I was totally overwhelmed. The world was rushing by at a million miles an hour and I could barely catch my breath! 

I had to locate the desk to collect my hire car, but on scanning the airport I noticed there were hundreds! Eventually I found where I was supposed to be and joined the back of the queue. Anxiety was creeping in, along with a whole new set of what ifs…what if I don’t have the right documents, what if they don’t let me have the car, what if I made an error on the booking and I haven’t even booked a car (totally irrational as I was physically holding the booking confirmation!), what if I get the car and then I can’t drive it (because I was, after twenty years, likely to forget how to drive!), what if, what if, what if… 

What if it is all just fine? 

As it turned out it was all just fine. After an exchange of documents, deposits etc I was handed the keys and pointed in the direction of a multi-storey car park which housed the fleets of hire cars. Mine was on the top floor (of course it was!). Relieved and allowing a little excitement to creep in, (not too much, mind there was still plenty that could go wrong!) I headed for the lift. 

After locating my car in a sea of identical cars, and heaving my case in to the surprisingly small boot (the downside of having a convertible) I got myself behind the wheel (after having gotten in the wrong side of the car, and then too embarrassed to get out, climbing in a rather undignified manner, over the centre console in to the driver’s seat! Ok! So here we are, let’s go! I thought. And I sat there … this car is huge I thought to myself , sliding back over to the passenger seat as if in denial that I was actually going to have to drive this thing…and sat there… I’ve got to get this huge car out of this multi-story car park- sharp turns, lots of other cars coming from all directions… and I sat there… shit, even if I do get out of the car park unscathed I’ve then got to drive this thing on the other side of the road for hundreds of miles. Not only that, but I knew the very first part of my journey involved crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, which, having seen it on TV numerous times, I knew was likely to be tail to tail busy. 

Shit! shit! and shit! 

So after what felt like hours, now tearful, hungry and desperate for a pee, it dawned on me, that if i did not move the car I would be spending my entire holiday in the car park! No one was coming to rescue me or navigate this monstrosity of a car out of this car park for me. If I don’t do it then I am going absolutely nowhere and will most likely pee myself! And in that moment, undecided on which of the two scenarios would be the most undignified start to my trip, once again straddling the centre console, I got myself in the driving seat, in every sense of the phrase, and turned the key. The car quite literally roared into life! Here goes…!! 

Having very very slowly navigated my way out of the car park, the relief was temporary, not only was this car huge, but the bulk of the car (of which there was ample) was on the ‘wrong’ side and within minutes of passing through the exit of the car park, I inadvertently took off someone’s wing mirror. In any other circumstances I would have stopped, apologised profusely, and offered to pay for the damage.  I got in such a panic that without thinking or even turning my head to look at the other driver I swung the car in to the next exit (my conscience still haunts me about this!). Oh God! Don’t people get shot for less than that in America??! This was a bad, bad, bad idea! Feeling guilty, I muttered my futile apologies to the driver who could neither hear me nor be seen in my rear-view mirror, and started to breath again, as my Sat Nav re-routed me back to the course of my journey. 

The next thing I knew I was cruising over the Golden Gate Bridge! This was quite literally breath taking! The ACTUAL Golden Gate Bridge , the one in the films! The one on those Iconic prints you see in those trendy art shops! The actual flipping bridge and I am driving over it!!!! (It later turned out that I was supposed to pay some sort of toll on crossing the bridge which six months later came directly off my credit card along with a fine, which presumably had been imposed on the hire  company in the first instance). 

Check me out!!! By this point I was feeling a little like an extra in an  American TV series . 

I was relieved, but exhilarated upon arrival at my hotel. I even managed to park the car relatively painlessly. 

So this could be ok, I thought! 

On every other driving holiday abroad, I had declined, no make that-  point-blank- refused, to drive, through fear of ending up on the wrong side of the road, going round a round-about the wrong way, and potentially being responsible for a serious RTA! So with the exception of a twenty minute stint of driving in France, five years previous, which resulted in me getting pulled over by an armed officer and receiving an on the spot one hundred Euro fine for speeding (I had gotten confused about Km/ Miles per hour which in combination with my ex-husband’s high powered German car,  had resulted in me going significantly over the speed limit without really noticing), I had never driven on the other side of the road!! 

I had three days ahead of me in San Francisco. I had been well informed by a close friend who used to live there, of the places that were must sees and the places to give a wide berth! 

I visited all the usual tourist spots, including Pier 39, Alcatraz, Ghiradelli Square (and more importantly the chocolate shop!), Golden Gate Park (where I did find myself totally lost on my hire bike and ended up straying in to a four lane main road!), Lombard Street (the most crooked road in the world), rode the cable car and visited all the ‘safe’ neighbourhoods soaking up the micro-cultures of Little Italy and China Town. 

 I headed South from San Francisco, making (pre- planned) overnight stops along the way in Monterey Bay, Carmel, and Santa Barbara. 

The highlights of my trip: 

Riding a horse on a deserted beach (another first, I’d not ridden anything four legged since a Donkey in Camber Sands when I was about six!), during which I was fortunate enough to witness a dolphin and her calves swimming parallel to me along the shore as a I rode. It really was a moment of absolute beauty! 

In Monterey I spent my evening sipping the local wine in a  roof-top Jacuzzi over looking the bay! 

Driving along the Big-Sur was definitely my favorite section of the journey . The views from the winding road that clung on to the cliff edge were nothing less than breath taking. I had to resist the urge to pull in to every single lay-by to admire the same view from every possible angle. I was especially grateful at this point for the advice I’d been given about travelling South rather than North along the Pacific Coast Highway! 

Carmel has the most stunning beach, with the finest whitest sand I’ve ever seen!  I later learned Hawaii actually purchase and export the sand from there to their own beaches which they lay on top of the volcanic sand, as it is more attractive to visitors! It was also here I got to see Elephant Seals, noisy and smelly as they were, it was still an absolute treat to see animals in their natural habitat. 

I loved the vibe in Santa Barbara. Here I took and impromptu sunset cruise along the coast line, where we sipped champagne and watched the sun go down over California from a luxury sailing boat. I even had a short go at sailing the boat! 

I had gotten used to the car, it’s size and driving on the ‘wrong’ side of the road surprisingly quickly! 
By the time I reached the final leg of my journey, which involved driving into the centre of LA, I almost felt like I had been doing it forever! 

I had another three nights in LA, during which I had planned to meet with a friend who I had worked with during our student days in Topshop, and had later taken his career with the company to LA! I was excited at the prospect of some company. Whilst I had not felt lonely at any point on this trip, I was looking forward to seeing a familiar face, albeit it one, I hadn’t seen for twelve years! 

I waited for him in anticipation, outside the hotel in Venice Beach, and within minutes of his arrival, any anxiety ebbed away and we had quickly lulled back in to our old familiar ease of each other’s company. 

Not only was it lovely to catch up with an old friend but he also treated to me to my very own personal tour of LA, including the Hollywood Hills (which enviably he had a full of view of from his living room window!), the Walk of Fame, and Rodeo Drive, where I saw none other than Robert De Niro!! Whilst he worked, I explored other areas of the city, and spent an afternoon cycling along the coast to Santa Monica Pier, where I rode the famous big wheel alone! In the evening we dined at a famous steak house. If there is one thing they know how to do in the States, it is a great steak!! 

 I had fun in LA but didn’t fall in love with the place, like others I know. 

I had purposely not made any plans for my final day of my trip, intending to spend it exactly how I felt like spending it when I got up in the morning . Spontaneity is not something I am particularity good at and I feared that my inability to make decisions may lead me to wasting the entire day deliberating about what to do and ending up doing nothing as a result! 

As it was, I was uncharacteristically decisive that morning and took myself back up the Coast, where I spent my entire day in the quiet but stunning Paradise Cove, Malibu. It was, I discovered upon arrival, a beach you had to pay to enter, a concept I had never encountered before, but I wasn’t going to be put off, and it turned out, that I got my own sun lounger, parasol and towels in the fee so it didn’t feel like a total rip-off. I barely moved for the entire day! I ate fish tacos and sipped (virgin) cocktails from a watermelon, from the comfort of my sun lounger. It was the perfect end to the perfect trip. 

I saw and experienced some truly incredible and liberating things on this trip! For me this will always be my trip of a life-time. 

There were the odd moments I felt a little wary of my surroundings , particularly in LA. I was careful not to venture too far from the beaten track which didn’t impact upon my experience at all. The lack of language barrier also made me feel more comfortable about travelling on my own.  

I had a story prepared for anyone that I felt wary of,  that asked about me travelling alone (I was travelling with a  friend who I was meeting back up with later), occasionally slipped a ring on to my wedding finger. 
I was careful never to drink too much, or be out much after dark alone. 
I also observed that America seems to be much more inviting and accommodating of those choosing to travel, drink, or dine alone. More so than I have ever experienced in the UK.  Most Restaurants have a bar area you can sit at with others dining alone and if you do request a table for one, they don’t shame you into taking the undesirable table with no view/ in the corner, simply because you feel like an inconvenience taking up a whole table alone! 

In several of the restaurants I dined at I sat alongside other solo diners and enjoyed sharing conversation over our meals. 
Whether that exchange was about the food or how we had both found ourselves there at that point in time, (I did get asked if I’d known princess Di-Di, met Hugh Grant, and several times if I was Australian !), it was fun! 
I met some really interesting people, and so many Americans who wanted to hear about the UK. I was surprised at how many aspired to visit our tiny island when that had so much on their own doorstep! I did find that once I started listing the places they should visit back home the list was endless and I realised just how much beauty we are blessed with here! The running theme however, was always ‘shame about the weather’! Ironically it even rained (for the first time in months I was told) as soon as I arrived in LA and nearly everyone that picked up on my accent, held me personally responsible for having brought the British weather with me! 

In a little under three weeks I learned so much about myself! I was far more capable and brave than I’d ever previously given myself credit for. Things I didn’t feel confident about, that I would in the past, have ‘delegated’ turned out to be things I was more than able to do myself. I was able to engage with strangers which I had always previously shied away from (this had always been my ex-husband’s domain. Being a very charismatic salesman, this was definitely one of his strengths so I often found myself hiding behind him) and found I enjoyed meeting new people, listening to their stories and sharing mine! It was surprising how much more approachable you are when you’re on your own. It made me appreciate my own company in ways I had never done before. It turns out I am quite fun to be with! It also gave my lacking confidence a much needed boost. 

I loved every second of this trip. I wouldn’t have done a thing differently. This was a game changer for me and just the start of my journey as an independent woman! 

For any of you fellow WWC that are hesitating at the prospect of taking a trip alone, I would urge you to try it, even if it is just once. I guarantee you, it will boost your confidence in so many ways, and you will get to know yourself just a tiny bit better. You will gain a sense of  freedom that can only be experienced when you are taken outside of the confines of your daily routine and surroundings, and give you the opportunity to spend each and every day of your trip exactly how you please! 

Book that trip …