I’m a ‘childless millennial’: Why you should definitely go to theme parks without kids

After Disney-gate, Helen Coffey heads to Alton Towers on a smugly child-free mini-break

Alton Towers is the UK's biggest theme park (Alton Towers)

“Romance” and “rollercoasters” are two words that make for strange bedfellows. Or so I’d always thought.

But as my partner and I stumble off our fifth ride of the day, making little aftershock whoops of joy as we clasp hands and giddily lock eyes, I have to admit that I may have underestimated the aphrodisiac powers of theme parks. Not even the Smiler coaster’s macabre soundtrack of children singing amid a nausea-inducing black and yellow colour scheme is killing the vibe.

Perhaps it’s all that adrenaline rushing around your veins, creating a similar phenomenon to the one that sees people start feeling frisky after a car accident (but a lot less frightening and a little more PG).

Or perhaps the fact of turning the whole thing into a “minibreak” rather than just a day out gives it an extra injection of va-va-voom.

Whatever the reason, we’re giggling like crushed-up schoolchildren as we skip our way across Alton Towers’ gargantuan Staffordshire park, covering tens of thousands of steps as we rush from Nemesis to Galactica to Oblivion to Wicker Man to Rita to The Smiler and back again. We pause only for a quick kiss here and there – and to marvel at the sheer volume of people willing to shell out £33 for a branded hoodie bearing the name of a very specific rollercoaster in the West Midlands.

It was my first time in a theme park in almost a decade, as well as being our inaugural attempt at an overnight stay, and I’d felt a little weird about going as a grown woman without any accompanying kids. After all, as a “childless millennial” I shouldn’t even be allowed in the door, according to one angry mother’s recent viral Facebook post (she suggested that couples without children should be banned from Disney World after being forced to wait in line to buy her toddler a pretzel. Cue the tiny violins).

But after years of extolling the virtues of a “romantic” minibreak of loop-de-loops and stomach-churning drops, a friend of mine, who swears by the restorative powers of regular adults-only trips to Disneyland, finally convinced me to try it.

We landed on Alton Towers thanks to the promise of its Stargazing Pods, a new glamping concept launched this season – images of us wrapped in blankets while spotting the constellations through built-in telescopes all seemed suitably La La Land (the undeniably budget version, yes).

Alton Towers’ Stargazing Pods (Alton Towers)

Arriving the previous day after completing the first challenge of getting here – it’s weirdly not that well set up for public transport users and we had to shell out for a 40-minute taxi ride after alighting at Stoke-on-Trent station – we were eager to check in, then check out what one does at a theme park after hours.

Which turned out to be crazy golf. You get a nine-hole game for free as part of any overnight stay, and when in Rome… join a tediously long line to play crazy golf. Clearly, everyone had had the same brilliant idea. We pootled our way around at an enforced leisurely pace, rendered even slower by an adorable duckling that followed us onto each hole, without bothering about scorecards. The fact I went over the nine-hit suggested limit on most holes meant there wasn’t too much argument over who won to mar the #blessed vibes.

The park has several restaurants all dishing up similar offerings of pub grub – think burgers, and fish and chips – but as that didn’t quite fit with the “grown-up” theme we opted for BYOP instead: bring your own picnic. On the “green” back at the pods, out came the tropical-patterned blanket, to be loaded with feta and spinach quiche, lemongrass and edamame falafel, and cups brimming with white port and tonic as the sun set. The gentle strains of crowd-pleasing tunes being crooned along to an acoustic guitar wafted across from the yurt-like bar at the other end of the field – the opening bars of Ed Sheeran were enough to put us off moving closer, but it did add to the pleasantly festival-esque feel.

The pods themselves were more rustic than expected, but cute, snug and surprisingly warm thanks to their wood-lined walls and insulating exterior material. There were plug sockets, a heater, a bin and three beds: two singles (for our non-existent kids) and a double. There most definitely weren’t any towels though; take your own if you don’t fancy forgoing a shower like we did. Much to my surprise, I swiftly drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep facilitated by the sensory deprivation tank-like qualities of our digs – thank you zero light and noise pollution.

The yurt houses a bar and hosts live music (Alton Towers)

Waking in the knowledge that the day ahead will be filled with rollercoasters induces the kind of stomach-flutters more often associated with a first date. We stroll to the park along a tree-lined path, chomping on egg, mushroom and cheese baps and sipping a passable coffee (included with an overnight stay at the pods) as we go. The birds are singing, the sun is shining – all we need now is last night’s duckling to join us in a choreographed dance to reach Disney levels of whimsy.

Once in, we make use of our early-entry fast-track tickets – which gain us access to the park half an hour before the regular punters and allow us to skip the queue once on most rides – by watching the flow of people and heading in the opposite direction. Most are dead-set on doing The Smiler first, admittedly Alton Towers’ most impressive ride: with 14 loop-de-loops, it holds the world record for “most inversions” on a rollercoaster.

Instead, we decide to work our way up to it, choosing a leafy path on the opposite side of the grounds and inadvertently taking the long way round. Stumbling across a tranquil lake surrounded by greenery, without a soul in sight, you’d think we were in Cumbria or the Cotswolds – not the UK’s biggest theme park.

Alton Towers offers a huge variety of rides (Alton Towers)

It’s eerily quiet too when we reach the Forbidden Valley, home to Nemesis, now an impressive 25 years old, and the adjacent Galactica ride. The latter is designed to make riders feel like they’re flying as it swoops and swishes through the trees, smooth as a dolphin’s beak. It’s strangely euphoric.

Next up is Wicker Man, the park’s newest attraction that opened in spring last year. Largely constructed from wood and dominated by a huge pagan man/ram form that periodically emits smoke and fire, it’s wonderfully atmospheric. We cling to each other as we shuffle into an antechamber just before the coaster itself, where the room is plunged into complete darkness, eliciting gasps and shrieks, before the story is brought to life by projections overhead. The build-up is almost better than the ride itself.

The Smiler has the most inversions of any coaster in the world (Mepics) (MEPICS)

By this point, we decide we’re ready to take on those 14 “inversions” over at The Smiler. Anticipation fizzles in my gut as we get closer to the front of the queue. We’re herded forwards in dribs and drabs, once, twice, thrice and then it’s time: sit down and strap in. I give my partner’s hand a reassuring squeeze as we look at each other with the same slightly dopey look.

“Here we go,” I squeal.

And we’re off, shrieking, whooping and laughing into the dark as we’re catapulted in every conceivable direction, cheeks sore from smiling. As we disembark, strolling hand-in-hand in a blissed-out stupor, I can’t help but think my friend was right about adults-only theme park adventures. Sure, kids are great – but an unencumbered day of hitting 13 rollercoasters in a row with zero interruptions? That is so, so much better.

Travel essentials

One night at the Stargazing Pods, B&B, plus two-day Alton Towers tickets for two adults and a round of crazy golf from £209. Includes early access to the park on one day of your visit. Gold fast-track tickets cost £60pp extra.