My midlife gap year

As her 50th birthday approached Annabel Venning wanted to relive the adventures of her youth. So she packed her bags and headed for South-East Asia...
'What are you doing for your 50th?' friends started asking two years beforehand. 'I'm having a midlife gap year,' was my answer.

Much as I love a party, it would cost thousands, be a headache to organise and be over in hours. How else to celebrate hitting a midlife milestone?

I wasn't in the market for a sports car, facelift or a younger lover, but have always loved travelling. So I decided to indulge myself with a midlife gap year - or at least a few months off.

When I was growing up we moved house frequently, living on and off in Hong Kong and Brunei. Family holidays included Bali and Thailand - still unspoiled paradises in the 1980s - Sabah (Borneo) to see orangutangs and China. It's probably why I have permanently itchy feet.

Aged 18, I spent my gap year teaching and travelling in Nepal and Thailand. In my 20s, I backpacked around Zimbabwe, Namibia, Botswana, Guatemala and Vietnam. I loved the freedom of jumping on and off buses, booking guesthouses on the go and changing plans according to weather or whim.

Then I married and had two children, and family holidays became two weeks in a villa in Italy or France. Lovely, but not wildly exciting. I yearned for my backpacking days, for the thrill of landing in a new country and experiencing its sights, smells, food, and culture. I wanted a break from the monotony of daily life. And I loathe winter. So I thought why not escape and have an adventure?

The same year I turned 50 my son Will was in his final year of university and my daughter Alice was heading off on her own gap year. They wouldn't be at home to miss me, though the dogs - two black labradors - would. My husband Guy, who is also a writer, would be at home finishing a book.

My parents, children and husband were all supportive, but not everyone was. Some friends thought I was being a bit selfish, until I pointed out that over the years Guy had been on many boys' holidays, stag nights and shooting weekends by himself. Now it was my turn.

What started as a daydream slowly morphed into a proper plan. I fixed a departure date, bought guidebooks and spread maps over the kitchen table. The original concept was '50 days for 50 years', but as my must-see list grew longer 50 days became 60.

I decided to focus on two countries, Cambodia and Laos, rather than trying to cover too much ground. I'd long been intrigued by the Plain of Jars in Laos, where thousands of megalithic stone urns are scattered over hundreds of square kilometres. The area is also strewn with unexploded bombs from the Vietnam War, which spilled into neighbouring countries, so you can only visit certain parts.

Cambodia is next to Laos and home not only to Angkor Wat, the largest religious structure in the world, but also to many other ancient temples of the Khmer Empire.

Although I was happy to travel solo for a while, I wanted to break up the ten weeks, so I asked friends if they fancied joining me for two or three week stretches.

Many were keen but constrained by children or work. Some backtracked when I explained that the trip would involve backpacks and guesthouses, rather than suitcases and swanky hotels. In the end, four friends committed. We had all just turned or were about to turn 50.

My budget was £500 a week, and I stuck to it. Food, accommodation and travel in Laos and Cambodia is incredibly good value. I booked with local guides and community-led projects wherever possible. Although I had worked out a tentative itinerary, it was flexible.

Meanwhile, my daughter was making her own travel plans: Nepal, followed by a loop around Asia encompassing Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. Realising that I would miss her by a few days in Thailand, I extended again. Sixty days became 70.

I flew out of Heathrow on 30 December 2023 accompanied by Julia, an old schoolfriend. We had last backpacked together in 1997, when we had climbed a volcano in Guatemala and been accosted by a drunken gunman, so I knew she was both game and unflappable.

We flew to Bangkok, then changed planes for Chiang Rai in Thailand's north- east and took a bus to a Thai town on the Laos border. Shattered after 24 hours of travel, we watched the New Year fireworks over the Mekong River - Laos was on the other side. New year, new adventure!

The next morning we crossed the border into Laos and spent two days drifting gently down the Mekong on a boat. Water buffalo waded in the shallows, villages of bamboo houses clung to the cliffs and monks in flaming saffron robes descended from hilltop temples.

We visited the Mekong Elephant Park (mekongelephantpark.com), home to a family of elephants rescued from the horrors of riding camps and circuses. We watched them pottering happily in the jungle and enjoying an evening swim in the river.

The next day the boat took us to the city of Luang Prabang, a charming medley of French colonial and traditional Laotian architecture.

From there we hired a car and driver to reach the Plain of Jars - even more mystical and awe-inspiring than I'd hoped - and travel across north-east Laos. We explored caves and trekked through Nam Et-Phou Louey National Park (namet.org). At night we slept in 'nests' - bamboo baskets suspended above the ground, and ate delicious food, served on banana leaves.

Some guesthouses in remote areas were what you'd expect for £3 a night: rock-hard beds and bathrooms with no basin. But in Luang Prabang we stayed in stylish luxury at the Apsara Hotel (theapsara.com) for a mere £55 a night.

After three weeks Julia flew home. We both cried. But as she flew out, another friend, Alice, flew in. I barely knew her. We had sat next to each other at supper a few months earlier and discovered that we had both been researching the Elephant Valley Project, a sanctuary in Cambodia. Impulsively, I asked her if she wanted to go there with me. Equally impulsively, she said yes.

My instincts were right, as Alice, like all my travelling companions, was great company and up for anything. On our first day together we took five different buses over 14 hours from Vientiane, Laos's capital, through eastern Thailand to Cambodia.

Another friend from my Wiltshire village, Pam, joined us at Angkor Wat. From there we ventured to far-flung temples surrounded by jungle and watched the sun set in a blazing ball over the jungle canopy. We felt like three female Indiana Joneses. Minus the whips.

In the far east of Cambodia we swam in a lake formed by a volcanic crater and bought traditional tribal sarongs from a sweet girl who showed us how to wear them. We didn't like to tell her that they were destined to become table runners and cushion covers.

We kayaked down the Mekong River to see rare Irrawaddy dolphins, and walked with elephants through the forest at the Elephant Valley Project (elephantvalleyproject.org).

More tears ensued when Pam, then Alice, departed. Suddenly I was on my own after seven weeks of constant companionship. I arrived alone at a guesthouse on the island of Koh Rong. It was noisy, and the other tourists were younger and brasher than those elsewhere. For the first time I felt out of place and lonely.

But with backpacking the rule is: if you don't like it, leave it. I caught a boat to the next-door island, Koh Rong Sanloem, a jungle-clad mound ringed with sparkling sand and warm turquoise sea.

I found the Beach House (beachhousecambodia.com) a convivial guesthouse full of travellers of all ages with a friendly bar. I snorkelled by day then took a paddleboard out to watch the sunset. At night, with new friends, I swam with bioluminescent plankton glittering like stars. I hiked through the jungle, revelling in the solitude. I had found my solo stride.

My next friend, Rosie, was about to arrive, and I went to meet her in Phnom Penh, Cambodia's capital. We drank delicious cocktails in the colonial splendour of Raffles Hotel (rafflesphnompenh.com), then trekked in the Cardamom Mountains, sleeping in hammocks and swimming in jungle pools. It was tough but exhilarating.

My Achilles heel is trying to cram in too many activities: 'How about a hike before breakfast then a kayak, swim, then a temple, then...' My friends sometimes had to remind me that we were on holiday, not at a boot camp. So when Rosie and I crossed into Thailand we spent a few days on Koh Mak Island, relaxing with cocktails, beach massages, hammocks and some sensational snorkelling.

Laos and Cambodia are safe and easy places to travel as a solo female. The people are polite, and no one tries to rip you off. Having firmly told my daughter not to accept rides on motorbikes or eat street food, I found myself doing just that, but was fine.

To my surprise, we encountered lots of travellers of a similar age: several women who were also celebrating their fiftieths; a Frenchman who had sold his company and now spent his time cycling all over the world; couples who were taking sabbaticals, early retirement or extended honeymoons. We met Belgians, Canadians, Italians and a few fellow Brits.

In Vientiane we visited the Cooperative Orthotic and Prosthetic Enterprise (copelaos.org). This was set up in 1997 by an Englishman, Mike Boddington, to supply artificial limbs to victims of unexploded cluster bombs.

My final stop was Thailand. After waving Rosie off at Bangkok I headed south to the Wildlife Friends Foundation (wfft.org), a sanctuary for rescue elephants, tigers and other animals. For the same price as a Premier Inn I stayed in a comfortable cabin that had a balcony overlooking an elephant park.

To my amazement one elephant, a fiftysomething female called See Puak, came up to the balcony on my first evening and stood, three feet away, while I talked to her as if she was one of my dogs. She stayed for about half an hour and returned several times over my 48-hour stay. It was incredibly moving.

My final week was spent with my daughter in the city of Chiang Mai. I was ecstatic to see her after two months apart. While I'd been travelling she had been volunteering and trekking in Nepal. We swapped tales, visited elephant sanctuaries and did a Thai cookery course. I also had a lesson in muay Thai - Thai boxing - with a bunch of twentysomethings. It was hard but fun.

The time came for Alice to take a bus north with her friend, and for me to take one south to Bangkok airport and home. We were both weepy. She had more adventures ahead but mine were ending.

My trip had been everything I had hoped for and more. I realised I was more capable than I'd thought and that I'm a real 'people person'. My solo stint was enjoyable, even empowering, but it was more fun with friends.

Going back to work, winter and reality was hard. But I felt mentally refreshed and physically healthier. I had switched off far more than on any other holiday. People asked me if I'd had something 'done', as I looked so well. Would I recommend a midlife gap year? Yes, wholeheartedly. My feet are already itching again. Pictures: Adobe Stock
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