Adventure travels with my daughter

“You can do it, mama,” I heard my daughter shout from below as I was ascending a rock-climbing route.

We were in Red Rock Canyon, just outside Las Vegas. It was early January; the sky was blue, and Sin City glistened in the winter sun in the valley below us. My daughter is fearless compared to me at her age. But I’m happy challenging myself in my advancing years.

I managed to get to the top twice with Romi’s encouragement — she did it three times, with more grace and speed. We both enjoy rock climbing for the exhilaration, adventure and mutual pride. Red Rock is a popular winter climbing spot and I’d booked a guide ahead of our trip to show us the ropes — literally. We enjoyed lots of intergenerational bonding, heights, sore fingers and blisters.

A fun-filled mutual activity is the cornerstone of any successful relationship. And climbing wasn’t the only one we enjoyed together in Las Vegas. Romi loves shops and asking me to buy things she doesn’t need. I love walking past shops at speed. Despite the grotesque overpricing, however, we found our middle ground. We loved the city lights, the Stranger Things store, the half-drunken Elvis impersonator on a scooter.

Barbara McCarthy and Romi in Las Vegas

And the hotels are cheap in winter. Though, like most holidays, there were obligatory teething issues on our latest mother-daughter trip. Our room was double-booked upon arrival on New Year’s Eve. I sorted it by refusing to leave the building. Romi got a bad cold, lost her purse with money from her bracelet empire, and tripped over herself.

Thankfully, all was forgotten when we rented a car and hit the interstate for a 2,000km trip across Zion National Park, Bryce Canyon and the Grand Canyon, Sedona and Route 66. We had a snowball fight at Antelope Canyon, made sand carvings in Horseshoe Bend and snow angels in Bryce Canyon among the hoodoos — the irregular columns of rock which form a geological masterpiece. A mind-blowing Arizona sunset while driving between the Grand Canyon and Flagstaff is forever etched in my mind.

I read on the internet that you spend 75pc of your time with your child by the time they’re 12. There was no concrete source for this hypothesis, but it reminded me, we’re up against the clock. My daughter is nine now, so there’s no time to waste. The best time to travel is whenever you can afford it, or sometimes, like us, when you can’t. One of the great benefits of being a single parent — and there are many — is being able to choose where to go on holidays and how. We’re adventurous and not afraid of going alone. In return, I forgo luxuries at home like taxis, coffees, organised activities, restaurants, pints, takeaways and subscriptions. They all add up. We’ll stay in cheap hotels and avoid expensive entrance fees, too.

I’m obsessed with the American west and wanted my daughter to see it before she’s older and doesn’t want to hang out with me. It’s a great place to go as a single parent too — there’s always lots going on, people to chat to, endless things to see and the landscape is incredible.

Barbara and Romi at Burning Man

This was our third trip to the US together. Even the sickly-sweet breakfasts and overpriced watery coffees won’t quench our affection. When Romi was one, we flew to Las Vegas, where we met Mickey Mouse and Spider Man before flying to Los Angeles, where I reported on the US elections. We saw Donald Trump’s motorcade outside Chateau Marmont — a celebrity hotspot in West Hollywood, and got a train to Santa Barbara to see Bernie Sanders.

I also brought her to Burning Man in the Nevada Desert, where 70,000 people gather annually to enjoy music, art cars and sculptures, which they often build themselves. Going to the desert city takes months to organise, akin to going on an expedition. Goggles for dust storms, tickets, an RV, sunscreen, spray for sand burns, camera gear, random bits of costume.

Everything that could go wrong, did. I left my wheelie bag with my camera gear in Duty Free in Dublin Airport. As a photographer, this was terrible stuff. We were already on the plane when I noticed my colossal screw up. We had to be offloaded, put on the next flight and pray the bag returned before take off. Romi kept it together, but they were tense times with a three-year-old. Thankfully we got it back in the nick of time. After a few days in LA, we set off on an epic road trip to Black Rock City, Nevada, 1,000 kilometres away, in an RV. I recruited some friends to drive with us, because it would have been impossible to drive the distance alone.

I’d been to Burning Man twice before and knew what to expect — the heat, the cold nights, the sandstorms, the indescribable moments of awe. We joined a kids’ camp so there were lots of things and children to play with. There’s no phone signal, so you live in the moment there. Romi has fond memories of the wonderful lights and art installations. She didn’t mind the heat during the day and had great fun with a friend’s sprinkler. There were no sandstorms and nights weren’t as cold as previous years.

Preparation is everything when it comes to Burning Man. The camps had shelter from the sun and the RV kept us warm at night. A highlight was driving around tucked up in blankets in an art car that looked like a boat, cosy as custard as the craziest event in the world took place around us. A low was my altitude sickness and losing a tooth to a chewable sweet. It’s all part of the experience. But we met some great people and went to stay with them in Joshua Tree afterwards... after an emergency visit to the dentist.

Romi skiiing in Germany

Travelling on our own makes Romi and me flexible. We can change plans and don’t have to compromise. Despite this, single-parent travel (I loathe the word solo), gets bad press unnecessarily. Sure, I have to pay, organise everything and get asked for snacks a lot, but it could be worse — we could be stuck with a husband who demands a dinner of meat and two veg every day. Snacks and the promise of better food tomorrow is fine for us. We also have some endurance. My daughter will get several trains without giving out. She also packs her own bags and carries them (most of the time), even her ski stuff.

We love to ski. When I was younger, the only person I knew who skied was Princess Diana. I don’t come from skiers, so I taught myself in the late 1990s in a friend’s mother’s purple jumpsuit. I’m religious about it and introduced Romi at an early age. Lessons were a must, and allowed me some alone skiing time.

It’s so popular now, our favourite spots have become packed and pricey, so I take weeks to seek out a decent location. We never fly directly as school holidays make flights insanely expensive. Instead, we’ll fly to Frankfurt or even further north, and hop on various trains to the Alps.

I’m half-German, and aware of train deals in Germany. A few summers ago, Romi and I travelled around southern Germany for €9 each on regional trains. When we went to Lapland, we flew to Helsinki and got a train which had a kids’ section up to Rovaniemi and eight hours flew by. If Ireland were on the mainland, I would avoid air travel for trains any day.

I often incorporate work as a photographer and journalist with travel. We went to the Cannes Film Festival to write about an inaugural kids’ area some years back, for example. A fantastic idea by all accounts. Romi got a fancy pass for the festival, and I ended up with something far more pedestrian. When I dropped her off, eager to get to the Swedish pavilion, I lost my footing and fell like a giant redwood, taking down the fence around the kids’ area with me. What a laugh we had.

When Romi was two, I couldn’t find anywhere to live in Dublin, so we went to live in Cape Town. I found an amazing creche with an outdoor space and incredible staff for around €200 per month full-time and an apartment for €600 — with a pool. It was her first time in childcare, and she adapted well to meeting new people. I brought her to the Kruger National Park, and we saw a pangolin and black mamba — rare sightings in those parts.

Barbara and Romi at Horseshoe Bend in Arizona

I also brought her to the queen’s funeral in London. It was a historic day. We flew to Birmingham and got a train to Euston and walked to Hyde Park and Buckingham Palace, saw the queen and went home the same evening.

“Wait till they’re older” doesn’t work for these one-offs. I’ve missed the Berlin Wall falling, the World Cup final in Rome in 1990 and Ayrton Senna’s funeral in Sao Paulo — all because I was too young to go on my own.

I made up for it by travelling around the world, mostly on my own before Romi came along. I’d regularly go for work, mountain climbing or motor racing, so I’m well versed in putting together big trips with lots of variables.

For anyone thinking of travelling with a young child, I suggest planning mutual activities that bring joy to everyone — like swimming. I made sure Romi could swim from a very young age, just to ease my nerves. Pools are more manageable than beaches if you’re alone with a child, so book a place with a pool where possible. Bring snacks, card games and power banks. We loved playing Uno on a recent trip.

Holidays aren’t cheap, so booking early is a great way to save money. I often pay for mine over six months, so when I get there, most things are paid for. We speak German, which really helps when it comes to local banter. Language barriers can be isolating if you’re travelling alone with a child, so having the lingo helps. I prefer booking smaller towns to big cities, as shops are a pain with young girls especially, though we always find time for a small ‘shopping spree’.

We mostly travel alone, but sometimes with family and friends, which is great for company and practicality, but you have to compromise, be it where you eat, or what slopes to ski on. If you go with people, choose wisely. Never go away with people who walk less than you!

Technology has helped us organise our trips, and we never go on holiday without headphones or my USB stick and speaker. We had the best times driving along the highway listening to our favourite songs in the US recently. I also enjoyed that we had no internet connection on our traverse across the US, for example (when we got wifi, a chorus of irritating American YouTube voices emanated from my phone). I will hold out on buying her a phone for as long as possible.

Burning Man in 2018 image by www.barbaramccarthyphotos.com

Romi is growing up fast. Whether it’s hyperbole or not, the 75pc is looming. Soon it will be more difficult to convince my daughter to travel alone with me, so ideas need to keep flowing.

Thankfully, I’ll never run out of them. I’ve often heard people say, “I’ll do that when they’re older,” but time goes by in a flash — you have to do things time doesn’t take away. The best times in my life were spent on holidays in Germany with mum and granny, and I want my daughter to have special memories.

Holidays with children can be hard work, but spending time away from home, where adults are constantly distracted by boring housework, cooking and picking up odd socks, is priceless. We’ll never have that time back.

Needless to say, I’ve had plenty of unsolicited advice and critique about my frivolous trips from people who never leave their comfort zone.

Thankfully, I don’t listen to them.