I have been lucky enough to see a lot of the world. I’ve hiked in the high Pyrenees. I’ve run the Dubai Marathon, mountain biked 250 miles (400km) across the volcanic mountain ranges of Costa Rica, cycled from Vietnam into Cambodia, trekked 100 miles (160km) through the dense jungles of Dominica, and last year, I trekked to Machu Picchu along the Salkantay Trail with Much Better Adventures. And I’ve done all of it without my daughter.
Does it make me a selfish mother? No, it doesn’t — and it’s not up for debate.
I’ve noticed an interesting paradox within the travel industry. According to ABTA research, the biggest year-on-year increase in solo travel is among women aged 35–44, with numbers more than doubling in recent years. The reasons given for this growing trend include freedom and independence, personal growth, meeting new people and the ending of a relationship.
That’s all great. But do you know what I don’t see? I don’t see any mention of motherhood within the discourse around solo female travel — and I think I might know why.
The Unspoken Judgement
There’s one specific barrier to solo travel that I’ve encountered many times. It’s the notion that, in our role as mother and caregiver, women are perceived as selfish for choosing to travel independently and have adventures without their children.
The judgment I’ve received over the years has been insidious and toxic.
We’ve come a long way in terms of attitudes toward solo female travel [...] but societal responses to solo mums travelling are lagging far behind.
Before leaving for Peru last September, a male gym buddy asked me, in all seriousness, how I "got a pass" for going trekking without my husband and daughter (I was travelling with a friend of mine — also a happily married mother in her mid-40s).
“How on earth did you get your husband to agree to that?!” he asked incredulously, without a hint of irony.
Initially, I felt myself shrink a little inside. A feeling of shame washed over me — like I was a self-centred mother who thought nothing of abandoning her family to jet off on a merry little jaunt abroad. I felt like an un-serious person. An irresponsible parent. A selfish partner.
But then, those feelings turned to anger. Maybe even rage.
The very idea of any woman needing to ask her husband for permission to travel — like a child begging their parent to go on summer camp — made me want to punch walls.
The Motherhood Double Standard
Although we’ve come a long way in terms of attitudes toward solo female travel, I think it’s fair to say that societal responses to solo mums travelling are lagging far behind.
I’m not sure that aforementioned male gym buddy realised quite how gender-roled and prehistoric his presumptions were — not just about me, but about my husband and daughter. His comments presumed that my husband was quietly resentful of my love of trekking (he isn’t). It painted a picture of him simply tolerating it through gritted teeth (which he doesn’t do).
To suggest that a modern man in the year 2025 is incapable of feeding himself and our daughter, walking the dog, or managing household duties while I’m away for 10 days is honestly offensive to men like my husband.
It’s like watching a television advert for tinned SPAM in 1965:
The man of the house can’t cook. Get him to open a tin, instead.
Our Own Conditioning
Sadly, the judgment of others isn’t the only barrier to mums like me pursuing solo adventure travel. I am conscious that the chance to adventure as a mum is shaped by circumstances, and that for many women, this choice simply doesn’t exist. For many, though, perhaps the biggest culprit is our own conditioning — the learned conviction that “they need me!” has us deadlocked.
Female guilt is real.
Trekking with Much Better Adventures in Peru last year was an eye-opening experience for me. Before meeting up with our trekking group, my “trekking wife” Emma and I spent a week exploring the floating islands of Uros on Lake Titicaca. Spending time hiking, canoeing, and exploring with another mum who also chooses to curate her own adventurous life outside the role of motherhood made me feel seen. Understood. Less of a societal oddity.
On the day we arrived in Cusco, the historical capital of the Inca Empire, my teenage daughter sent me a flurry of WhatsApp messages. I picked them up while we were acclimatising with a hike up to the World Heritage Site Sacsayhuamán (pronounced “Sexy Woman,” according to one of the women in our Much Better Adventures group).
Instead of spiralling into guilt over all the ways my daughter might need me, Emma gently reminded me that by prioritising our own growth and development through adventure travel, our daughters also benefit — through our increased confidence and self-esteem, greater empathy, our respect for other cultures and an expansive mindset.
But it’s more than just a list of benefits for ourselves and our daughters. It’s a blueprint. They will follow our lead.
Rewriting the Narrative
Following this shift in perspective, I realised it was my deep-rooted cultural conditioning which was making me feel like a “bad mum” for being somewhere on the planet without my daughter by my side.
When I got home, I printed a photo book and shared with her the historical significance of the places I had visited and the things I had learned.
I told her about the 15th-century dry stone walls built by the Incas; so enormous and perfectly carved that even modern experiments hadn’t managed to replicate them. We talked about the rise and fall of the Inca Empire, about climate change, and the impact of high altitude. Did you know that vegetation stops growing in the Andes at 3,800m (12,467ft)? There are bushes and trees — and then you turn a corner and there are none. Conversations with teenagers can be tough, especially in this phone-scrolling, virtual reality age, but we talked for hours.
So, Am I a Selfish Mother?
My teenage daughter’s wall is covered with maps of all the places she wants to travel when she’s older. She has been inspired to become an adventurer.
Conversations with teenagers can be tough, especially in this phone-scrolling, virtual reality age, but we talked for hours.
Remember the time when Mum narrowly avoided a landslide, on a small bus on some high, cliff-edged rubble path in Peru? Or when she sent me a video message from Machu Picchu? Those are the kinds of stories she wants to collect for herself (okay, maybe without the landslides).
One day I will travel and adventure with my daughter. One day, when she’s old enough, we’ll pack our rucksacks and set off — together — on the running, hiking, biking and trekking journeys she’s heard so much about.
She will see for herself what it means to live boldly and bravely — to live life to the fullest and spread positivity and possibility.
And I will be proud to have played a part in that.
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