Solo Big Lappers are the smallest segment of the travelling community, but they might be the most passionate about the experience. There’s something about navigating an entire continent by yourself, making every decision on your own terms, and discovering that you’re more capable and resilient than you thought, that changes people in ways a couples’ trip or a family holiday doesn’t.
The freedom is absolute. No negotiations, no compromises, no waiting for someone else to be ready. If you want to stay three extra nights at a free camp because the fishing is good, you stay. If you want to drive 600km in a day because you’re in the zone, you drive. The flip side: every task falls on you, safety is entirely your responsibility, and there are stretches where the only voice you hear for days is your own. This guide covers how to plan for those realities and get the most out of solo travel on the Big Lap.
One chair, one view, zero compromises. Solo travel is the purest form of the Big Lap.
The Solo Advantage
Total flexibility. You answer to nobody. Change plans mid-drive, stay somewhere for a week on a whim, leave at dawn or noon, eat cereal for dinner. Every decision is instant because there’s no discussion required. This sounds small but over months of travel, the cumulative effect of never having to negotiate is profoundly liberating.
Your pace, your way. Some solo travellers move fast, covering huge distances and seeing as much as possible. Others go glacially slow, spending weeks in a single region. Neither approach requires justification. Your itinerary is whatever feels right, and it can change daily without disappointing anyone.
Deeper connections with strangers. Solo travellers are more approachable than couples or families. People invite you to their campfire. Locals chat to you at the pub. Other travellers offer recommendations, meals, and company. The social experience of solo travel is, paradoxically, often richer than travelling with a partner because you’re more open to new people.
Self-discovery that isn’t a cliché. Spending months alone in a vast landscape forces you to be comfortable with yourself. You learn what you actually enjoy (versus what you enjoy because your partner does), how you handle stress and uncertainty, and what you’re genuinely capable of. Many solo Big Lappers describe the trip as a turning point in their self-confidence.
Lower costs. One person’s food bill is obviously lower. You can camp in smaller spaces (more free camp options). A smaller van is more practical, which means lower fuel costs, cheaper purchase price, and more campsite options. A solo Big Lap can be done on a genuinely modest budget.
Safety: The Non-Negotiables
Safety is the biggest concern for solo travellers, and rightly so. When something goes wrong and you’re alone, there’s nobody to drive you to hospital, nobody to flag down help, nobody to share the problem with. This isn’t a reason not to travel solo. It’s a reason to prepare properly.
Tell someone your plan. Before you leave each camp, send a text to a trusted person at home with your planned route and destination. “Heading from Carnarvon to Coral Bay today, expecting to arrive by 2pm.” If you don’t check in by evening, they know where to start looking. This takes 30 seconds and could save your life.
Carry a satellite communicator. A Garmin inReach, SPOT device, or similar satellite messenger allows you to send an SOS signal from anywhere on earth, regardless of mobile coverage. On remote stretches (the Nullarbor, outback tracks, western Queensland, the Savannah Way), mobile coverage doesn’t exist for hundreds of kilometres. A satellite communicator is not optional for solo travellers. It’s a $400 to $600 investment that you’ll hopefully never use, but if you need it, nothing else will do.
Carry extra water and fuel. Solo breakdowns in remote areas are more dangerous because you can’t send someone for help while you stay with the vehicle. Carry at least 20 litres of emergency drinking water and enough fuel to extend your range by 100km beyond the next known fuel stop. On genuinely remote stretches, carry more.
Maintain your vehicle religiously. A breakdown is an inconvenience for a couple. For a solo traveller in a remote area, it’s a potential emergency. Keep your maintenance schedule tight: tyres, oil, coolant, belts, wheel bearings, and brake checks before departure and at regular intervals on the road.
Trust your instincts at camps. If a camp feels wrong, leave. If a person makes you uncomfortable, move on. Solo travellers, particularly women, need to be more attuned to their environment than those travelling in pairs. Most Big Lap travellers are wonderful people, but trusting your gut and having a low threshold for leaving is smart, not paranoid.
A satellite communicator (Garmin inReach or similar) is essential for solo travellers on remote stretches. Mobile coverage is non-existent across large parts of outback Australia. In a medical emergency or serious breakdown, a satellite SOS is the only way to reach help.
Your safety kit isn’t negotiable. Satellite communicator, first aid, UHF radio, water, and a plan someone at home knows about.
Loneliness & Connection
Loneliness is the challenge that solo travellers talk about most honestly. It’s not constant, and it’s not unbearable, but it’s real. There are stretches where you don’t have a meaningful conversation for days. Evenings at camp can feel long when there’s nobody to debrief the day with. Beautiful moments feel slightly incomplete without someone to share them.
It comes in waves. Most solo travellers report that loneliness isn’t a constant state. It arrives in waves, often triggered by a spectacular sunset with no one to share it, a difficult day with no one to vent to, or seeing couples and families having the time of their lives while you’re eating dinner alone. The waves pass. Knowing they’re normal and temporary helps.
Seek connection deliberately. The Big Lap community is extraordinarily welcoming to solo travellers. But the connection won’t always come to you; sometimes you have to create it. Sit in the camp kitchen instead of cooking at your van. Say yes to every campfire invitation. Start conversations at dump points, fuel stops, and laundromats. Join Facebook groups for solo travellers and attend meetups when they happen near your route.
Caravan parks are more social than free camps. If loneliness is hitting hard, spend a few nights at a caravan park rather than a free camp. Camp kitchens, happy hours, and the general proximity of other travellers creates natural social interaction. Some parks are famous for their community atmosphere. Ask other travellers which parks are the social ones.
Stay connected with home. Regular phone calls, video chats, and messages to friends and family at home provide a lifeline of familiar connection. Schedule a weekly call with someone you’re close to. Share photos and updates. The people at home are living vicariously through you, and the connection benefits both sides.
A UHF radio helps. Channel 18 (the general traveller’s channel) provides a surprising amount of social connection on the road. Other travellers call out road conditions, wildlife hazards, and sometimes just have a chat. It’s company without commitment, and hearing another voice during a long, lonely drive makes a tangible difference.
Dogs are the ultimate solo travel companion. They provide company, security (the bark alone deters most concerns), a reason to get out and walk every day, and an instant conversation starter at every camp. If you’re considering solo travel and can manage a dog on the road, it transforms the experience. See our travelling with pets guide for the practical details.
Doing Everything Yourself
The practical reality of solo caravan travel is that every task, every day, is yours alone. This is manageable once you have systems, but the learning curve in the first few weeks is steep.
Hitching and unhitching. Practice this at home until you can do it smoothly alone. A jockey wheel, a good hitch setup, and a level surface make it straightforward. The first time you hitch up alone at a campground with 20 people watching feels terrifying. The tenth time, it’s automatic.
Reversing. Solo reversing is the skill that intimidates most new solo travellers. Invest in a good reverse camera and practise extensively before you leave. Use reference points (mirrors, stickers on the van, landmarks). Go slowly. Get out and check as many times as you need. There’s no shame in taking five attempts. There is shame in hitting something because you were too proud to get out and look.
The daily workload. Driving, navigating, setting up, packing up, cooking, cleaning, water, power, laundry, groceries, route planning, campsite research. When a couple shares this, it’s comfortable. When one person does it all, it’s tiring. Build more rest days into your schedule than you think you need. Solo travellers burn out faster because there’s no one to share the load with.
Breakdowns and repairs. Know the basics: changing a tyre (on both the vehicle and the van), checking fuses, jump-starting a battery, tightening a loose connection. Carry a basic tool kit and spares. For anything beyond your skill level, roadside assist membership is essential. Know your provider’s coverage area and limitations, especially in remote zones.
Planning & Route Considerations
Solo route planning follows the same where, when, and how framework as any Big Lap, with a few solo-specific adjustments.
Be conservative on remote stretches. The Nullarbor, the Savannah Way, and inland outback routes are all doable solo, but give yourself wider safety margins. Carry more water and fuel. Drive shorter days. Camp at established rest areas and roadhouses rather than isolated pulloffs. Tell someone at home your plan for each remote stretch.
Mix free camps with caravan parks. Free camping saves money and offers solitude. Caravan parks offer safety, social connection, and facilities. A good solo rhythm might be 3 to 4 nights free camping followed by 1 to 2 nights at a park. The park nights recharge your social battery and your phone.
Consider a smaller setup. Solo travellers don’t need a 24-foot van. A compact van (14 to 18 feet) or a well-set-up camper trailer is easier to tow, easier to reverse, cheaper to run, and fits into more campsites. The smaller your rig, the more places you can go and the easier every daily task becomes.
Build a generous timeline. Solo travellers often end up staying places longer than planned because they’ve found good company or a spot they love, and there’s no one pushing them to move on. Build buffer into your itinerary for these unplanned extensions. A 6-month timeline with 3 weeks of buffer is better than a tight 6-month plan with no flex.
Solo doesn’t mean lonely. The Big Lap community adopts solo travellers. All you have to do is say yes to the campfire invitation.
Solo Doesn’t Mean Alone
The most consistent feedback from solo Big Lappers is that they were rarely truly alone. The travelling community in Australia is tight-knit, welcoming, and protective of solo travellers.
You’ll be adopted. Couples and families at campgrounds routinely invite solo travellers to join them for dinner, happy hour, or a day trip. Older grey nomads are particularly generous with their time, advice, and food. Accept every invitation. These spontaneous connections are often the highlight of the entire trip.
You’ll travel in convoy. Many solo travellers end up forming temporary travel partnerships on the road. You meet someone heading the same direction, camp together for a few nights, and naturally leapfrog each other for a week or two before your paths diverge. These road friendships are low-commitment and high-reward.
The community has your back. If you break down, other travellers stop. If you need help with a task (changing a tyre, hitching up on a slope), someone will offer. If you’re camped alone and a fellow traveller is concerned, they’ll check on you. The Big Lap community looks after its own, and solo travellers get an extra layer of attention because people know you’re doing it alone.
Solo travel isn’t for everyone. It requires self-reliance, comfort with your own company, and a willingness to manage risk independently. But for the people it suits, the Big Lap solo is one of the most rewarding things a person can do. You’ll come home knowing that you drove around an entire continent, solved every problem, made your own decisions, and proved to yourself that you could.
- Solo travel offers total flexibility, lower costs, deeper connections with strangers, and genuine self-discovery. The trade-offs are safety responsibility, loneliness, and doing every task yourself.
- Safety non-negotiables: tell someone your daily plan, carry a satellite communicator ($400 to $600, essential on remote stretches), carry extra water and fuel, maintain your vehicle religiously, and trust your instincts at camps.
- Loneliness comes in waves and passes. Seek connection deliberately: sit in camp kitchens, say yes to campfire invitations, join Facebook groups, stay at caravan parks when social battery is low.
- Practice hitching, unhitching, and reversing alone before you leave. Invest in a reverse camera. Build extra rest days into your schedule because the solo workload is higher.
- Consider a smaller setup (14 to 18 feet) for easier towing, reversing, and camp access. Build buffer days into your timeline for unplanned stays.
- Solo doesn’t mean alone. The Big Lap community adopts solo travellers. You’ll be invited to campfires, offered help, and travelling in convoy before you know it.
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