I used to think travel insurance was a scam. Or at best, a boring bit of admin tacked onto the end of a booking – a checkbox you tick without really thinking, like seat selection or “Yes, I’d like to receive promotional offers.”
That was before I started travelling more seriously. Not just weekend city breaks or two weeks in the Med, but longer, slower journeys to further-flung places. The kind of travel that makes you never want to return to your normal life.
At some point, I realised that buying travel insurance wasn’t a nuisance. It was a mark of maturity. An unglamorous, deeply sensible decision that quietly acknowledges the truth: things go wrong. People fall, luggage disappears, flights get cancelled, knees buckle, and food poisoning doesn’t care how many Instagram followers you have. Travel isn’t risky, per se – but it is unpredictable. And pretending otherwise doesn’t make you brave; it makes you a liability.
If that sounds dramatic, here’s something more concrete: in the past three years, UK-based travel insurance specialist True Traveller has paid out over £165,000 to airlift a traveller from Queensland, Australia back to Scotland after they fell seriously ill. Another £121,900 went toward emergency care and repatriation after a car crash in Texas. And a jet ski injury in the US racked up nearly £61,000 in hospital bills and flights home.
Even some of the so-called “cheaper” countries can deliver eye-watering costs. In Thailand, a cyclist hit by a truck needed £46,640 worth of treatment and transport home. Two stranded trekkers in Nepal racked up more than £14,000 just to be rescued from the mountains.
In Tim Riley’s words, managing director of True Traveller: “There simply is no ‘cheap’ country should you become ill or have an accident. There’s expensive, very expensive, and eye-wateringly expensive.”
And that’s the thing. In the UK, we’re used to a system where medical help doesn’t come with an invoice. But step outside that safety net – especially to places like Florida, California, or New York, where medical costs are astronomical and you’re suddenly playing a very different game. In the USA, True Traveller reports a hospital bill following a car accident recently passed $500,000. Even if it’s negotiated down, that’s still a six-figure problem most of us aren’t prepared to solve with a credit card.
All of this has changed the way I think about travel. I still love spontaneity. I still like the romance of turning up and seeing what happens. But I now pair that with a very unromantic habit: reading the fine print on insurance policies. I check the evacuation clauses. I look for adventure sports cover. I make sure my gear is insured and my baggage delays are included. Is it dull? Yes. Is it necessary? Absolutely.
These days, buying travel insurance feels a bit like carrying a first-aid kit: you hope you won’t need it, but if you do, it’s the most important thing you packed. I don’t skimp. I don’t forget. And I definitely don’t assume the worst won’t happen to me.
Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s the sheer volume of “I was lucky it wasn’t worse” stories I’ve heard from fellow travellers over the years. But mostly, I think it’s this: being a responsible traveller isn’t just about watching your travel footprint or eco habits, it’s also about being prepared.
And buying decent travel insurance? That’s where preparation begins.
