Travelling alone by hitchhiking: the story of "La Bretonne en stop"

Written by Cécile Dupuy

Published today

For over two years, Juliette Hamon—better known on social media as La Bretonne en stop—has been documenting her low-carbon solo world tour on Instagram. She has just published her first book, "Oser partir seule" ("Dare to Travel Alone"), with Larousse editions. Blending practical advice and personal stories, the book offers aspiring solo female adventurers the keys to take the leap. Speaking from Australia, she shares her journey.

You left France in February 2023 to begin your hitchhiking world tour. Where are you now?

I’ve just arrived in Tasmania (an island off the coast of Australia). Over the past two years, I’ve crossed about thirty countries and traveled more than 80,000 kilometers by hitchhiking. At the end of 2024, I reached northern Australia by boat-hitchhiking from Indonesia. I first worked as a pet sitter, then on an organic blueberry farm near Melbourne. I’ve just hit the road again to meet native forest protection associations as part of my documentary project. I plan to spend a year in Australia before heading to the Americas—still by boat-hitching.

©La Bretonne en stop

Your book "Oser partir seule", aimed at women traveling solo, has just been released. What led you to write about this topic?

When my publisher offered me the project, I hesitated at first. I wanted to talk about adventure and travel as any adventurer would, without being constantly tied to my female identity. I was afraid this guide might reinforce the idea that there’s a double standard between men and women when it comes to travel.

But after some thought, I realized it’s still crucial today to create spaces to discuss female travel experiences, support each other as women and gender minorities, and free ourselves from societal conditioning. With this book, I want to offer a space for sisterhood and encourage other women to go for it. I also want to say: it’s okay to be scared. The advice I received from other women travelers really helped me, and I’m deeply grateful. So this book is my small way of paying it forward.

The first lines of your book are a tribute to the women who paved the way. You even included illustrations of female adventurers from the 19th and 20th centuries. Who inspired you?

Ironically, I wasn’t inspired by historical adventurers—I didn’t know about them. My true inspiration came from social media: women like Astrid from @astrid.histoiresdetongs or Florence aka @lemondesurlepouce, known for her hitchhiking world tour. Their tips and stories made me realize: “Hey, this is actually possible!”
Representation matters—it helps you visualize yourself in those shoes and break through your mental blocks.

You talk a lot about safety and even share a few misadventures. Why was it important for you to cover that?

Early in my journey, I read "Les femmes aussi sont du voyage" by Lucie Azema and loved it. She speaks at length about safety while traveling. When I was about to leave, people constantly warned me about the risks of traveling solo as a woman. I felt like I had to constantly reassure everyone, which added stress and planted the idea that if anything happened to me, it would be my fault—that I had “underestimated the risk.”

Getting feedback from people who’ve actually traveled solo, with similar backgrounds to mine, helps me shed these internalized fears. I’m not trying to idealize things either—being a woman still comes with risks today. I’m simply trying to open up the conversation, so that every woman can assess and prepare for potential dangers and know how to react if something goes wrong.

Of course, we shouldn’t have to prepare for these risks in the first place—I dream of a world where this kind of advice is no longer needed.

You describe travel as a tool for women’s empowerment. Is solo travel a form of feminist activism for you?

Travel and adventure are indeed spaces for freedom and empowerment. On the road, I am perceived as a woman, and that affects my interactions. But being an adventurer also opens doors. You’re the master of your choices, your path, your daily life.
I don’t know if the act of traveling alone is inherently feminist, or if it’s the intentions and mindset behind it that are.
Feminism is about demanding equality. Traveling solo is a way to experience that equality, to become aware of gender dynamics, social conditioning, and to discover other ways of thinking.

©La Bretonne en stop

Mental health is getting more attention nowadays. Why was it important for you to address this topic? Are there particular challenges for solo female travelers?

I see this book as a space of sisterhood, but some topics—like mental health—apply to all travelers. Though honestly, I wonder if a travel guide written for men would address it.

I want to normalize the emotional ups and downs of travel. It’s important to be mentally prepared so we don’t expect the journey to be a magical cure for everything. I know many women who didn’t enjoy traveling alone, and that’s totally valid too.

Another important topic in your book is the environmental impact of travel, which accounts for 8% of global CO2 emissions, 75% of which come from transport. How has your decision to stop flying changed your perspective?

We’ve always been sold the dream of perfect vacations by plane to exotic tropical islands. Rethinking those travel stereotypes forces us to ask: what do I actually want from this trip?

Quitting flying is often seen as a sacrifice, but for me, it sparked a desire to explore alternative modes of transport more in line with my ecological values—hitchhiking, walking, trains, and so on.
I’d never considered hitchhiking around the world before. When I gave up flying four years ago, I thought I was giving up on adventure. But actually, it turned out to be the best decision of my life.

When talking about tourism’s negative impacts, we often focus on the environment more than the effects on local communities. Should we avoid certain destinations?

I don’t have a perfect answer. Many travelers believe they’re supporting local economies, but often the money goes to large international corporations, not local people. Beyond that, tourism contributes to land grabbing, gentrification, housing issues, and even cultural commodification.

I want people to rethink their impact. I don’t outright ban destinations, but I try to support truly local businesses, like guesthouses run by locals, to ensure the money benefits the community.

You chose an alternative travel style: slower, hitchhiking, staying with locals, doing volunteer work. Has this changed your experience of travel?

Absolutely—it has completely changed how I see travel. The destination becomes secondary to the adventure itself, to those spontaneous, unplanned moments.

©La Bretonne en stop

On the ground, I’ve let go of checklists and instead focused on human connections and deep presence. Like the time a man in India welcomed me into his apple factory. I would never have ended up in that village otherwise, and now my memory of that place is shaped by the emotion of that encounter and the time spent with him and his family.

It’s a whole new way to value experiences and live the journey instead of consuming it. It means making room for slowness and unpredictability.

People often say that traveling long-term changes everything, but I truly believe you can embrace the unexpected even on a short trip. By shortening your to-do list, you leave space for encounters, connection, and stronger, more unique memories.

To discover all of Juliette’s advice, check out her book: “Oser partir seule” – now available from Larousse editions!