Earlier this year, I took a solo birthday trip for the first time, and I turned 35 on top of a mountain looking at views of Peru in the distance.
Though it felt a little counterintuitive, I now recommend a birthday trip alone — not every year, but at least once.
My year had felt very start-and-stop. By April, my birthday was around the corner, and there was no arguing that somehow, to my surprise, I was now undeniably in my mid-30s. I both wanted to pause to celebrate the life I’ve built — the one where I get to live and work from Ecuador — while also taking stock of what may lie ahead.
My mind had been a busy place, buzzing with what-ifs, shoulds, and mentally preoccupied with the landscape of 2026, which feels shaky at best.
I’m not much of a planner, and with enough on my mind already, I decided to skip party planning, sit-down dinners I don’t typically enjoy, or a logistically-heavy getaway with friends.
I took myself on a retreat to the mountains
I spent five days in a mountain valley in southern Ecuador, a few hours from where I’ve been living and working as a freelance writer for eight years. I did as I pleased: reading in hammocks, getting a massage and facial, eating delicious food, and hiking up a mountain. All by myself.
At a glance, these solo travel plans may have paled in comparison to past birthdays. Back when I lived in Canada, I threw larger-than-life parties. Other years, I celebrated with adventures: chasing waterfalls through the Amazon for my 30th, dancing salsa until dawn in the Colombian countryside, or trekking to a volcano.
But this year called for something more subdued: time away, alone, in nature, and appreciating the quiet. Anyone who has never taken a trip like this must. I can’t recommend solo travel — on one’s birthday, no less — enough.
By the time I arrived in the chill, bohemian town of Vilcabamba in Ecuador’s south, I had a list of books to catch up on, trekking gear ready, and spa appointments. I knew full well that I was reaping the benefits of being travel-minded and childfree; decisions I made in my 20s.
This Ecuadorian town is one I know well. It’s the kind of place where balmy afternoons give way to heavy rain. Afterward, rainbows stretch across the valley. It’s so beautiful and the perfect place to pause and take stock from a lazily swinging hammock.
On my birthday, I climbed a mountain
The day was so hot that each step I took left a puffy cloud of dust. I hiked past bushes of fuchsia flowers and an overgrown part of the trail where hummingbirds darted between the trees.
Steadily, I climbed toward the top, wondering what the second half of my 30s would hold. I planned for more travel — be it on my own like I was there, or surrounded by friends and family as I often am — especially in this area of the world, which I’ve fallen in love with.
I vowed to do more creative work, writing, and purpose-driven projects. I crossed my fingers that my parents would age slowly and happily, that friends who opted for parenthood wouldn’t drift too far, that the world might stabilize, and that I would find a deeper purpose in it. It was a rather long wish list for a relatively short and breathless climb.
This particular mountain has a steep trail to the top, marked by a cross. By the time I neared the peak, I was thirsty and a little sunburned. Still, I persisted to beat the afternoon’s probable storm.
When I reached the top, orange butterflies floated above the slopes of the mountain. I breathed the sweet grassy scent and stared at the village below. Off in the distance, rows of crinkly mountain ridges stretched on for miles. I recognized I was looking at Peru.
My 20s brought me to South America
I left Toronto to follow a gut feeling. I’m so thankful I dreamt large and took that risk. At 35, I’m settled in Ecuador. I write, read, study, and live an active lifestyle. I also refuse to miss any of the country’s iconic fireworks and thrive amid the bold energy this part of the world is famous for.
The pendulum swings between excitingly chaotic and practical — a word my mom often uses and one I hated until recently.
When I was ready, I headed back down the mountain past a brambly forest of bushes. The transition from young to youngish feels strange. There’s so much I want to pack into my life, and markers of time, such as birthdays, can feel like reminders that time is moving on for both me and those I love.
Still, to have the lifestyle and independence to take a solo birthday trip — and the discernment to know when it’s time to take a time out— is no small feat.
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