I’m a Solo Female Traveller – Get used to it!

Warning! This post may contain swearing.

What do I mean ‘may’? I’ve not even started writing it yet, but I know I’m not going to get to the end without at least a few expletives leaving my keyboard.

Why is the normally chilled Inverted Sheep getting so wound up and hot under the collar? I’ll tell you why! Are you ready for this?

Okay, calm down, deep breaths…

I’ll start at the beginning.

As you may know, I spent the summer travelling round Shetland, Orkney and Scotland with my little white van. I slept in it every night. It’s not the first time I’ve done this. And it’s not the first time I’ve done this in Shetland or Orkney. I travelled alone the whole time, which again is not unusual for me. I’ve travelled round the globe meeting people along the way, but technically alone and often literally alone. Hell, I’ve even travelled through Africa on my own.

I don’t see anything unusual or daring about this because most of the women I know have done similar. As have most of the men I know. Now, I realise that says something about the circles I mix in, but really, no matter what circle you’re in you don’t have to look far to find an independent woman who travels confidently alone whether that’s on a weekend city break, a business trip, flying to visit friends or family by  herself or with a backpack and one-way ticket and the intention of coming home maybe in a couple of years.

You may not have done this yourself and may feel a bit jittery at the thought of doing it, but you can’t say it’s something you’ve never come across.

It’s 2018 for fuck’s sake. Go back a couple of hundred years and you’ll find that women travelled on their own (in a different style and with different reasons maybe, but still THEY WERE WOMEN AND THEY TRAVELLED ON THEIR OWN). So this is nothing new.

Don’t believe me?

Well what about these women:

Ida Pfeiffer published her first book about her travels in 1846. As a woman she was barred from the Royal Geographical Society despite being one of the most well-travelled people of her time. She made her way up to Iceland and down to Borneo and to quite a lot of places in between. She often travelled alone. (Her books are available free on Kindle.)

Isabella Bird travelled the world, climbing mountains and volcanoes along the way. In 1892 she was the first woman to be allowed to join  the Royal Geographical Society. (Her books are also free on Kindle.)

Annie Londonderry left her family 1894 and cycled round the world for 15 months.

These are just three examples, it doesn’t take much Googling to find plenty more. Of course times were more restrictive, but it was still possible. And of course solo travel wasn’t just the domain of those women who travelled for travel’s sake, plenty of women travelled for work or for other personal reasons too, but as these weren’t documented in the same way we know less about them.

But I digress …

Often when I’m in Orkney I will park my van by the beach at Scapa in Kirkwall. It’s a lovely beach and unusually the parking spaces face the beach so you can sit in your vehicle and stare at the sea (something I really like doing) or watch the people walking their dogs, throwing frisbees, flying kites or even windsurfing.

The parking bays are set back off the road and there are public toilets that stay open all night. It’s an ideal spot for a campervan and I’m not the only one who thinks so as I’ve seen plenty of others stay here too. I don’t stay here every night, just when I’m in Kirkwall.

This summer I’d parked there a couple of nights, then gone over to the island of Shapinsay for a night and then returned to Kirkwall.

It was about 6am when I first heard it.

Knock, knock, knock …

It sounded like someone knocking gently on the side of the van. I thought I’d misheard and turned over. It came again. This time at the back door.

Knock, knock, knock …

Sitting up, bleary-eyed, I unhooked a corner of the blind and peeked out to see a policeman standing there.

I deactivated the alarm and opened the door.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked

‘Err, I was …’  I didn’t add, ‘But now I’ve just been woken up so I’m not anymore’.

‘I’m allowed to be parked here aren’t I?’ I asked. ‘There aren’t any signs saying not to and I’ve seen plenty of other campervans here’.

‘Oh yes, you’re fine parking here. It’s just someone rang us to say you were on your own and they were worried something was wrong’.

I digested that for a moment. My brain cells weren’t working at full throttle as half of them were still in sleep mode.

‘Well that’s very nice of them to be concerned, but why would they think there was something wrong?’

‘Because you’re on your own.’

My sleepy brain was really struggling to get to grips with the concept that someone had rang the police because they were worried because I was on my own.

‘I’m on holiday. Lots of people come to Orkney on holiday and lots of them stay in campervans and lots of them are on their own. It’s very nice of whoever it is to be worried, but why would they be?’

Of course my policeman, who I’ll call Steve because that wasn’t his real name (I did find out his name, but don’t want to give it away here), couldn’t really answer that apart from repeating what he’d already said because there wasn’t really any other answer than someone was worried because I was on my own. How ever little sense that made.

Steve asked me where I lived.

‘Manchester’.

‘Where in Manchester? What’s your address?’

‘Er, why?’

‘So I can match it to your number plate’.

Okay, so he’d run a check on my number plate before knocking. I know that’s probably completely normal procedure, but I started to feel a bit uncomfortable (even more uncomfortable than sitting in bed in my PJs with bed hair and sleepy eyes and my duvet pulled up round me whilst talking to a policeman I didn’t know about whether or not I was okay). I started to feel like I was being checked-up on.

Now I’m a pretty open person and will chat to anyone I meet, often starting conversations myself, telling people about myself and even living part of my life online where anyone can read about it. But this idea of someone watching me without me knowing (actually watching me not just observing or noticing that I’m there) and someone else checking-up on me and investigating who I am (I don’t know if I feel better or worse that the latter was done by the police), that’s a whole different level of feeling uncomfortable.

Anyway I chatted with Steve for a few minutes longer. It turned out he’d spent four years working in Brae in Shetland so we had a chat about Shetland. He confirmed that I was legally parked and doing nothing wrong by parking there and agreed it was a good place.

After he’d left and I’d reset the alarm and lay back down in bed, I knew I’d not get back to sleep. I was too awake now and my brain was furiously trying to process what had just happened.

Even though I felt uncomfortable I was still thinking along the lines of ‘how nice that someone is looking out for me’.

Then it hit me.

What just happened??

WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED??!!!!

Someone has rang the police because I’m a woman on my own.

Does this person (I had no idea if it was a man or woman) ring the police every time there’s a campervan here? Or do they only ring when it’s someone on their own? And do they always ring when it’s someone on their own or only when it’s a woman?

I hadn’t thought to ask at the time, but I’m pretty sure I know the answers anyway.

I could feel the outrage starting to bubble and tried to reason my way down from it.

Maybe they were worried because they think I’ve left an abusive partner and have nowhere else to go?

But why would they think that? It’s not as though women travelling on their own are anything unusual in Shetland, Orkney or any of the other Scottish islands I’ve been to. I’ve got a campervan so it’s not even like I’m sleeping in the back of a car (which also wouldn’t be unusual – I’ve met women doing this as they travel round the islands).

My little white van doesn’t look like a campervan from the outside, but I was parked by a popular beach with people passing by all the time. It would only have taken a glance to see that it has been converted into a campervan.

And surely if I had left an abusive partner, then I’m now okay. I’ve left. The time to ring the police should have been whilst I was still with him. And actually, with the feeling of discomfort I now had, if this was my situation and I’d finally got brave enough to up and leave, this could have destroyed that confidence and sent me straight back to him.

And whilst we’re on this topic, if you are genuinely worried that a woman has an abusive partner then surely your attentions should be on those women who are travelling with their male partners. Because if they have an abusive partner, well, they’re still with him! I’ve left mine. (If I had one, which let’s be clear, I don’t.)

So if that is your worry, then maybe you should be ringing the police every time you see a couple camping so the police can check that the woman isn’t being abused by her partner. Just a thought.

I wondered what I would do if I thought someone had just left an abusive partner and was maybe in need of some help. Would I ring the police? Or would I just stop and have a chat as I passed by? Surely the more human thing to do is stop and have a chat even if it’s only ‘Hi, how are you doing? Nice van, are you staying here long?’ as you pass by with your dog.

If my response was to burst into tears or to throw myself on the ground screaming ‘help me’, or to threaten to kill myself (or someone else) or to seem in any way unstable then fair enough. Maybe I’d call the police too in that situation. But I wouldn’t make the police my first point of call.

I started to analyse my behaviour. Had I been acting in a way that might have given the impression I was in some sort of distress? I’d get up in the morning, have a coffee, sort the van and then go off for the day. I’d come back in the evening. Maybe have a walk on the beach. If it was a bit chilly or there were lots of midges I’d sit in the front of the van with a cup of tea or something to eat and check social media on my phone or read whilst people watching (or just watching the sea – maybe that’s the weird bit, especially to someone who lives by the sea and takes it for granted). Once it started to get dark I’d get in the back of the van, close the blinds and settle in for the night. All exactly the same behaviour as I see enacted by people in campervans everywhere.

I’m sure if I’d been sat in my van with someone else (even if I’d been watching the sea with an abusive partner) this would have been seen as normal. If I’d been sat in my van behaving in exactly the same way, but I was male, I’m sure this wouldn’t have raised so much as an eyebrow.

No matter how I tried to reason with myself, I kept coming back to the idea that someone had rang the police because I was a woman on my own.

I’ve had people (usually women) tell me I’m brave before now. This has only ever happened in England and usually when I’ve been on a commercial campsite and most people there have been couples, families or groups. I usually respond by telling them that they’re far braver than me. I mean, we’re doing exactly the same thing, camping, but they have to negotiate all sorts of group dynamics, family arguments, toddler tantrums, teenage mood swings, partners taking the piss, etc, whilst I can just do what I want, when I want and don’t have to consider anyone else at all. What’s brave about that?

But no-one has EVER called the police on me before. I’ve travelled independently for 33 years. The last 31 of those years I’ve mostly travelled solo. I’ve travelled through countries that could be considered dangerous (okay ARE considered dangerous – DRC back in the day when it was called Zaïre and the political situation was extremely unstable anyone? Or the Israeli-Lebanese border during the first intifada?) I’ve spent time in the Middle East where women’s rights are, well, I suppose they’re there somewhere, just not that easy to find. I’ve climbed volcanoes, trekked through jungles, been trapped in a city by bushfires (hello Sydney) and lived in a building world-renowned as a death-trap. But no-one has EVER called the police on me before.

No, that has to happen when I’m in one of the safest places in the world no matter what category you’re looking at – Orkney doesn’t have any active volcanoes, earthquakes, typhoons, bears, wolves, killer bees. There’s no danger of being engulfed by a bushfire or drowning in a mass flood or tsunami. They don’t have riots or coups and the crime rate is negligible, especially for serious crime (the murder rate is virtually non-existent – a man was killed by a love rival in 2010. In 1994 there was a mysterious murder that is still unsolved and the one before that was 25 years earlier). Government figures show that Orkney is Scotland’s safest area with only 15 crimes per 1000 people and that crime overall is at its lowest since 1974.

Basically, there’s not a lot for women to worry about when they travel alone in Orkney.

I still had two nights left to camp in Orkney before I spent a night on the ferry and went back to Scotland. I’d not really thought about where I was going to sleep as I tend to make decisions as I go depending on what I end up doing. Because I was feeling uncomfortable (and watched) I didn’t feel like camping at Scapa even though I love it there and I probably won’t be back in Orkney for a while so those last two nights would be my last chances.

I tried to tell myself that I was doing nothing wrong and that the person who’d reported me only had my best interests at heart. But I still felt uncomfortable and angry. And more angry every time I realised I would not have been put in this situation if I’d had a man with me or indeed had actually been a man.

I went to HMS Tern (a WWII battery) for a tour which I’d been planning to do anyway and spent the rest of the day on that side of the island. I was also planning to go to Skara Brae the next morning and wanted to be there really early before coachloads of tourists from the cruise ships arrived. So it actually made most sense to sleep at Skaill Bay which has a beach even lovelier than the one at Scapa and also has toilets, the only downside being that you can’t actually see the beach from the car park.

I had an internal argument going on in my head all day. I was still trying to find an explanation to justify why someone had called the police, but kept coming back to the ‘it’s because I’m a woman on my own’ answer. I was also trying to feel good about where I chose to sleep. Part of me was glad I wasn’t going back to Scapa ‘to be watched’, but another part of me wanted to go back anyway because I had a bizarre feeling that I was someone running away if I didn’t. Then I got more angry because I felt someone I don’t even know and hasn’t bothered to get to know me has put me in the situation of feeling like this.

That night at Skaill Bay I was one of five campervans. A mixed-sex couple with a landrover and a roof-tent arrived, but struggled to put their tent up in the wind and ended up giving up and driving away. I wondered where they were going to find to sleep and if I should call the police to check if they were okay.

Another campervan had an elderly couple in it. Poor old people, something must be really wrong if they’re travelling round Orkney and sleeping in a campervan instead of sitting by the fire at home in their slippers. Maybe I should call the police to check that they’re okay?

And what about that van with the guy on his own in it? He can’t possibly be okay. I mean he’s on own, so there has to be something wrong. I should definitely call the police.

It’s probably a really good job I had no phone signal.

Next day I went to Skara Brae and arrived about the same time as the solo guy. As we walked round I really wanted to ask him if anyone had called the police because he was on his own. Fortunately for him I never really got close enough to him to ask.

But I’m sure I know what his answer would have been.

I slept at Skaill Bay again that night, my last night. I wanted to be in Stromness the next morning to get the ferry to Graemsay and Skaill Bay seemed closer than Scapa. Knowing that I would feel uncomfortable at Scapa probably had something to do with my decision too.

The following day I was back in Scotland and slowly making my way home. I slept by ancient monuments and beaches and in a layby with lorries. No-one called the police.

It took me days to calm down though and stop dwelling on it. And I still feel riled when I think about it now. 

I can’t help but think about a woman who has such a boring life she has to make up stories in her head about how much worse the lives must be of the other women she sees. And to get a bit of drama in her life and/or to feel good about herself calls the police.

Or about the man who doesn’t think women should be allowed to leave home without a man at their side. You know, the sort of man who says, ‘I wouldn’t let my wife or daughter do that’. 

When actually I know it’s probably just someone who means well but has had such a sheltered life they haven’t realised that women have all kinds of freedoms (like going on holiday on their own, travelling on their own, sleeping in their own campervan on their own) in 2018.

But why the hell did they call the police?

Can you help me out here? Can anyone come up with an explanation other than that someone believed that in 2018 (and in a Western, developed country) if a woman is travelling alone it has to be because something is wrong?

And please someone, explain to me why they would call the police rather than have a chat?

NB: If you’re a policeman reading this and you’re ever in the situation of having to wake up a peacefully sleeping woman to ask if she’s alright, BRING COFFEE! It’s the least you can do. 

Has this ever happened to you? How did you deal with it? Am I right to think the only reason it happened to me is because I was a woman on my own? Share your thoughts and opinions in the comments below. 

Like this? Read these next:

Graemsay – A Perfect Day on a Perfect Island
Lerwick vs Kirkwall – How does Lerwick compare to Kirkwall?
A Tale of Two Castles

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