As I turn my bike to head south out of the town, Jagged Little Pill plays in my headphones. I ride past the sign that tells me I’m gone from this particular place for good, and I start to smile. And then laugh. I almost punch the air in victory.

Note this story contains coercion and creepy behaviour. I’m fine, but I don’t want to randomly surprise you with this sort of thing. After my recent epic bike trip, one of the questions people ask me is ‘did you feel safe traveling as a woman on your own?’ and the answer to that question is ‘yes.’ I generally felt very safe, and I don’t want to put any woman off solo travel if she wants to do it – it’s a complete joy and one I hope everyone – no matter their gender – gets the chance to experience at some point in their lives. But it would be a lie to tell you I was always safe: I was mostly safe, I only got almost-sexually-assaulted once. This is the story of that one time. 

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