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November 2015. I had recently broken up with someone who I was weeks away from moving in with. It was a tough time and I needed an escape. I was 25 and had never traveled alone before, and one crazy day, I spontaneously (and terrifyingly) booked a flight to NZ to do a five day hike all by myself. It was the Queen Charlotte Track. A 70km hike through the south island. This naive chicken assumed there would be pitstops along the way. She was wrong. So wrong. I had gotten on the ferry from Picton and sat beside a woman and her young children, and she casually asked me how much food I had packed. I said none, I'll grab some along the way. Her facial expression was an incredibly loud "oh honey". She dug into one of her bags and built a lunch for me consisting of fruit, sandwiches and muesli bars. God bless mothers. This was the first of many obstacles I encountered on the trek, and I hadn't even started it yet. I thanked the woman profusely and disembarked the ferry to the start of the hike. Obstacle number two: the first hour. I should have read the fine print. The hike was 99.9% flat. This was true. But the 0.1% was the first hour that felt like it should have been rockclimbed, not walked. My legs had never burned so much in my life. And I realised that I couldn't turn back, I had to do it. It was hour of huffing and puffing and cursing how crazy I was. But I soldiered on. I finally reached the top and remembered why I chose the Queen Charlotte. The view was spectacular. Lush green forests, eye-popping blue oceans, a cloudless sky. It was flawless. And much to this introvert's delight, not a single soul in sight. I started on my journey and was kicking myself that this was my next five days. It was delightful. Considering I was alone and the hike was deserted, I decided to crank my music full volume so I could dance my way through it. Obstacle number three: no phone reception. Thankfully I was a millenial who didn't worry too much about this, I had saved playlists. But.... my family on the other hand. Flipped. The. Hell. Out. I didn't know this would be the case, so they weren't pre-warned either. So, as any family would, they panicked over the next few days as I was completely MIA. I figured there wasn't much I could do at that point so I carried on. I would deal with their panic at the first opportunity. The next few days were unforgettable. Sludging through forests in the rain, being fed hot meals by people who had closed up shop but could see how hungry I was, dancing to Britney while walking around a perfectly still ocean the colour matching the sky, having to trespass through a farm to take a detour and being cornered not by farmers, but by a whole bunch of (guard?) sheep. And of course, being chased by a native bird on more than one occasion (literally.... I was sprinting. So was he). It was a journey that definitely threw me into the deep end of travelling alone, learning to read the fine print of everything you book. But I'm grateful for my naivety (and to my ex for making me so crazy I'd do something like this!). It taught me alot. And it unlocked a beast within who has now travelled more than she ever thought she would. If I could leave you with one hot tip for travelling solo: pack a lunch!