My first group tour in 25 years had me fall back in love with travel

NZ Herald

01-05-2025

So I jumped at the chance to join an Intrepid small group tour to Comoros, an East African nation formed by a trio of tropical islands almost equidistant from Mozambique and Madagascar.
The trip didn't begin particularly auspiciously, with Issa, my local guide for the next nine days, picking up just one further traveller from the tiny international airport arrivals hall as fresh garden peas spilt out from the luggage of a returning Comoran at the customs counter. However, I soon learnt there were seven of us in total, with the others arriving on the next incoming flight.
Gathering at the welcome meeting a few hours later gave us all a chance to introduce ourselves. An almost even split of men and women, we covered ages from the mid-20s upwards. Most, like me, were solo travellers, with a long-term couple holidaying together for the first time, completing the group. Together, we hailed from three of the four nations of the UK, as well as Canada and Norway. Each had their own reason for picking a small group tour.
'I have to get the most out of my two or three weeks [annual leave],' replied Jackie from Belfast for instance. 'I'd see more on my own because I'd faff less, but sometimes group travel turns out to be more cost-effective than travelling alone. If I book a Land Rover, I'm paying for three other people too – if there were a few of us it would be the same price – if you see what I mean.'
For me, the primary allure was the chance to share experiences with others – the opportunity to say 'wow, look at that' to someone other than myself or my phone screen. It was a thought another group member, Stephanie, agreed with. 'It's easy, and I'm lazy,' she joked. 'Plus, I don't have anyone to travel with, so I've a guaranteed family for a little while at least.'
While the chance to connect was a big attraction to Stephanie and I, it was also true to say that worries about group dynamics initially lingered, perhaps fuelled by the fiery antics I've witnessed on various reality television shows.
Jon Hildebrandt, the founder of local tour operator Adore Comores, had a very different view, telling me, 'We have never had a problem with any of our groups. It is exciting for us to see a group of individuals meet for the first time, experience a week of adventure together and part ways having forged some incredible friendships.'
I discovered the rewards were well worth the additional faff factor highlighted by Jackie. I won't deny encountering humpback whales at any time will be a thrilling experience. But I'm also sure my interaction from a small wooden boat with a single outboard motor was enhanced by the presence of others.
The atmosphere became almost physically electric as a small pod of these majestic creatures swam close enough to our boat that we could count the knobbly sensory receptors on the sides of their heads and the barnacles than clung from their slowly moving pectoral flippers between dives so smooth the surface tension of the Indian Ocean was barely broken.
The ability to say 'that was amazing' to someone who had the exact same experience at the same time is an underrated one I realised I'd been missing out on for many years.
The continuous series of experiences on our itinerary meant we rarely ran out of things to say, despite being in one another's company from breakfast through to our evening meals.
Learning how others felt and experienced each day heightened my own understanding and enjoyment of what we had seen, whether that was the ruinous sultan's palace in the former capital of Grande Comore, Iconi, or standing amid the extraordinary heat of a wood-fired distillery producing essential oil from the blooms of the ylang-ylang plant, an introduced species which has become a mainstay of the Comoran economy thanks to its use in perfumes such as Chanel No5 and Dior's J'adore.
Visiting the distillery, a makeshift set-up with open sides and a corrugated zinc roof, in the small village of Ndrodroni, was particularly memorable. Although one of many similar structures on the islands, the visit was only really possible thanks to the fact that I was on an organised group tour with a local guide who spoke fluent Shikomori alongside English and French.
The impromptu stop was brought to an end when the manager made it clear he wanted to deal with the next 20kg bundle of flowers that had been delivered by the island's women harvesters.
Not long after, we were sitting on a plastic mat spread out on the concrete floor of Mama Haqqim's living room in the heart of Iconi's medina. The conversation took a deep dive into the island's marriage ceremonies as we tucked into tuna, traditional coconut flatbreads, and mounds of rice flavoured with madaba, the country's national dish.
A sweet leaf 'sauce', it's made by pounding together saka saka (cassava leaf) with freshly shaved coconut, red chillis, and salt in a large pestle and mortar (although a blender is now more regularly used).
Without the tour, the hassle of accommodation, transport, language, and permissions would simply have been too great for an independent traveller to deal with, as group member Sue pointed out when she said, 'You wouldn't get the cultural experiences like we did at Mama Haqqim's. You'd never do that on your own.'
Although daunting at first, and lacking the freedom granted by solo travel, I've never regretted breaking my quarter-century duck and joining this group tour. I learnt as much from my fellow group members as I did from the destination and its people, and thoroughly enjoyed the friendships and in-jokes which developed over our short time together.
While camaraderie is a big part of why solo travellers opt for an organised group tour, the desire for shared experiences appeared to have a limit and every solo traveller paid out for the single supplement. Shared experiences are clearly one thing, but the sharing of a bathroom with a stranger quite another, however lacking your home social life.
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