The joy of spontaneity in Queensland

After a lifetime of advance planning, I’m wondering if it’s time to change my travel style.

I went snorkeling along the Agincourt Reef off the northeast coast of Australia last summer. It was everything you might imagine the Great Barrier Reef to be: Orange clownfish swam through anemones like Finding Nemo come to life. A thousand silvery fish moved through the water in a collective typhoon shape. Grouper as big as a hubcap motored through the cool green water, while nearby jellyfish lifted and fell, lifted and fell. 

Snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef was a bucket-list experience, one I had planned for and designed my Australia trip around. 

But the universe was about to remind me of an age-old travel rule: For all the joys of a carefully planned itinerary, it’s the unplanned moments – the ones that surprise and delight us – that often make the deepest impact. 

As I rinsed off my gear on deck after swimming in the reef, I heard a crew member call, “There are a few free seats left on this afternoon’s helicopter ride back to shore, if anyone’s interested.”  

Before I could even pause to think – or remember that I’m not super crazy about heights – my arm flew into the air. I heard myself shout, “I’ll do it!” 

Seeing the Great Barrier Reef from the sky gave me a new appreciation for the coral reefs, one I could not have understood from the water alone.

Every traveler has their own approach to trips. Some show up in a new place and figure things out as they go, or they arrive with a partial plan: hotel bookings, a dinner reservation or two, but leave their days mainly open. 

Others, like me, are hardcore planners. 

To me, in-depth planning just makes sense. First, there are the practical reasons: as a solo female traveler, it’s imperative to research and plan for safety reasons. It’s also critical for budgeting. Second, planning can help ensure you get the most out of your experience in a new place – that you’ve reserved space for the sites and experiences that are most important to you. 

Lately, however, I’ve been wondering if I need to shift my approach. When I look back on my travels and think of the most memorable and meaningful moments, they often arose from the unexpected. Days I left unscripted, travel hiccups that derailed my plan, or spontaneous decisions often led to wonderful experiences.

Like flying by helicopter over one of the world’s most incredible natural wonders.

Banking east to avoid a raincloud, we headed straight into a rainbow.

The helicopter was waiting on a floating pad a short distance away from where the boat was parked. My heart thudded and my hands shook as the speedboat carrying me to the pad drew closer. I climbed into the cockpit next to the pilot and fitted the protective headset over my ears. Suddenly, we were in the air, pushing forward and gaining height at the same time. 

For a second, I had to fight the impulse to squeeze my eyes shut, like I do at the tops of roller coasters. Then my breath caught as the scene below me unfolded.

From the air, I could see what I could not fully appreciate at sea level: the immense span of the Great Barrier Reef. Vibrant, intricate patterns of coral formations were dazzlingly clear, surrounded by water in every shade of blue: navy, cobalt, sky, aqua, turquoise. Ring-shaped reefs encircled lagoons, while waves crashed against small islands and sandbars. It was a mosaic that stretched for miles, a kaleidoscope of color and water. 

The pilot veered east to avoid a bank of dark clouds and a rainbow appeared, arching across the sky. I took a few photos with my phone, knowing as I did that they could not possibly capture what I was seeing, that this was a moment I had to simply experience rather than photograph.

I kept thinking, What if I had missed this? What if I had stuck to my plan and never had this glorious, incredible experience?

I am forever trying to find the balance in travel between spontaneity and planning. On a recent episode of the Rick Steves travel podcast, Rick was discussing this dichotomy with Seth Kugel, an author and New York Times travel writer. Their preference, the men agreed, was to plan the first few days of a trip but leave the rest open to chance, including booking hotels. 

I like the sentiment behind that approach, but I don’t think it’s practical for solo female travelers, for whom safety has to be the first priority. Women traveling alone face unique safety concerns, making it critical to know which areas are safest, understand local customs, and identify trustworthy accommodations in advance. Research and planning ahead are essential. 

That said, I agree with Steves and Kugel that overplanning is the enemy of authentic experience. The joy of travel often comes from fully immersing yourself in an experience, and true immersion essentially requires you to stay open to chance – to let a place guide your next move, instead of the other way around. 

The joy of travel often comes from fully immersing yourself in an experience, and true immersion essentially requires you to stay open to chance – to let a place guide your next move, instead of the other way around. 

The aptly named “Snapper Island” because it looks like a “snappy” (aka, a croc).

Before long, the helicopter was soaring over the long white sands of Four Mile Beach and we were landing back in Port Douglas. I was buzzing with endorphins. The world felt different than it had when I’d left that morning. I felt different. I had discovered a whole new way to see the world – literally and figuratively. 

The push-pull between planning and spontaneity is similar to the struggle I have between a desire for slow travel and the temptation to maximize my travel experience. It’s hard to resist adding another city, another activity, another museum to an itinerary – especially when time is short and you never know when you’ll be back in a particular area again. Choosing not to fit in certain sites or skipping a quick day trip to another city can feel like missed opportunities, especially in a place like Europe, when there’s so much to see in such a compact space, just a train ride away.

But I’ve learned the hard way that if I’m rushing to make the timed museum entry I booked or anxious about catching my train on time, I’m not really in the moment, anyway. And crammed itineraries ebb away at opportunities for spontaneous conversations or unscheduled stops in picturesque villages.

As the writer Cameron Hewitt says of travel, “The magic happens in the unplanned moments.” 

Soaring above the Great Barrier Reef, I couldn’t agree more.