Socotra, Yemen: untouched frontiers

I remember reading about the remote island of Socotra, Yemen, as a young girl. Known as the Galapagos of the Middle East, with nearly 40% of its plants and trees found nowhere else on the planet, Socotra seemed almost unreal. Isolated from the mainland over 6 million years ago, its endemic species resemble something out of a science fiction novel - dragon blood trees (so named for their red sap), bottle trees, and the elusive Socotran chameleon. This year, I decided to make my lifelong dream of visiting the island a reality.

Bottle nose tree, Socotra

Visiting Socotra takes some planning: there is just one flight a week, run as a charter flight via Air Arabia out of Abu Dhabi. You cannot book the flight online; you’ll need to work with a tour operator to arrange it as well as your visa. I went with Piotr (Peter), founder of Pazola Travel, who has arranged multiple trips to the island over the years and seamlessly arranged this one. He is also one of the few operators to prominently feature scuba diving on multiple days of the trip; he is a long time instructor with over 8,000 dives under his belt. Our group of 8 met at the Abu Dhabi airport, having packed all of our scuba diving gear, sleeping bags and headlamps, and lightweight clothes for hiking and adventures in the heat. This is a trip for the adventure-minded: we typically spent the night camping or in relatively basic accommodations, and there are no frills (and very few items available for purchase) once you arrive on Socotra for the week.

Sunset at camp in Dihamri, Socotra

Upon arrival in Hadibo, the largest town on Socotra with a population of roughly 10,000, we were greeted by our guide, Abdularuf, and three drivers with their respective Toyota Land Cruisers, who would be with us for the week. We spent the first night at the Summerland motel, a popular and clean choice in town that even offers some basic breakfast and limited wifi. We headed out for lunch at the most popular restaurant in town, which served grilled fish, chicken, piping hot freshly made local flatbread, and an assortment of freshly squeezed juices (highly recommended). 

Cooking local flatbread in Hadibo

Hadibo at night

Hadibo itself is relatively vibrant, with plenty of locals walking around (women dressed in black in full burqas and men in traditional local colorful dress), mingling with goats and scores of trash (there is no place to discard of trash on the island, and unfortunately most of it ends up on the streets). This is also a place of extreme poverty: most things that end up on the island must be imported, and this is not cheap (or affordable for most of the population living off the land). At the aforementioned restaurant, any food not consumed by paying customers was promptly carried off to an ever-present group of hungry people who didn’t have the means to pay for a meal. At many of the small villages we passed during our time on the island, we encountered groups of children and families subsisting on the bare minimum to survive. Socotra is truly a sobering place that reminds us of just how small and insignificant we all are.

We are the lucky ones, the ones able to sit back in the Land Cruisers and explore the length of this unique and stunningly beautiful place. Our first stop was the Dihamri marine reserve, the longest coral reef on Socotra, where we set up camp for the night and completed a checkout dive with the only local scuba instructor, Walid. The reef is in near pristine condition, a testament to what our planet might be like with sustainable fishing operations. We observed reef sharks, turtles, and thick forests of richly coloured hard and soft coral gardens. I saw no discernible coral bleaching, which I’ve sadly grown used to as the norm at most dive spots around the world. This is a real underwater paradise–and what’s more, equally amazing for divers as well as snorkelers, as many sites have a maximum depth of 30 ft (10m). After our second dive, we hiked among the nearby bottle trees and gazed into the depths of the Arabian Sea as the setting sun turned everything around us a rainbow of red. 

Homhil, Socotra

Arher beach, Socotra

The next morning, we set off further east towards the landscape-dominating sand dunes of Arher. We detoured towards Homhil in the mountains in the interior, from where we hiked with a local guide through dragon’s blood trees and curved canyons shaped by centuries of water culminating in nearby pools overlooking the plateau below us blending into the sea. We trekked down the mountain towards the beach at Arher, where we enjoyed a late afternoon swim with dolphins and a myriad of fish in crystal clear waters. After a quick rinse in the nearby river, we set up camp for the night directly on the beach, falling asleep to the crashing waves. Waking up about an hour before dawn, we hiked up the cool dunes in darkness to enjoy from the top one of the most beautiful sunrises I’ve seen in my travels. 

Sunrise from Arher sand dunes, Socotra

After descending for a light breakfast by our camp, we headed to the easternmost part of Socotra, the fishing village of Irsal, from where we dove a shipwreck covered in decades of reef growth: giant clams, mussels, and bits of hard coral. Afterwards, backtracking eastwards, we completed a second dive (my favourite of the trip) at Rosh. Diving below the surface, we encountered one of the most beautiful and pristine hard coral gardens I’ve ever seen, full of life: a pair of lobsters chasing each other around coral heads, abundant schools of butterflyfish, and a rich microcosm of tiny nudibranch, shrimp, and crabs. 

Colourful fishing boats in the village of Irsal, Socotra

Children swinging from a dragon blood tree, Socotra

A path through the dragon blood trees in Dicksam, Socotra

Dragon blood trees in Dicksam, Socotra

We next ventured into the interior of Socotra, into the depths of Dicksam, reachable via an extremely rocky and long road full of switchbacks. We were rewarded by a sea of dragon’s blood trees stretching in every direction and some of the clearest night skies still largely untouched by human life (and light). We walked through the trees as afternoon turned to dusk turned to night, a showcase of stars complementing the ancient trees around us. The best places I’ve travelled to are the ones that remind you of your fleeting existence on this planet and the immensity and greatness of the world around us; they fill you with hope that despite our destructive tendencies, humans will find a way to live sustainably and coexist with the products of millions of years of evolution. Socotra is one of these places.

The road to Dicksam

Watching the sunset over dragon blood trees, Socotra

The endless night sky in Dicksam, Socotra

Our last two days on Socotra were spent in the far western stretches of the island, miles from other human beings on the beach of Shouab. The decades-old wreck of a large Qatari ship stretches just offshore, offering plentiful sightings of goliath groupers, schools of tang, and numerous sting rays. We spent two dives here; we could have done ten and that wouldn’t have been sufficient. The privilege of being able to dive in such a remote place was not lost on us, and we emerged from the sea feeling changed. 

Pristine Shouab beach, Socotra

If you have even the inkling of a feeling to make your way to Socotra, go: this is a place lost in time, unlike any other on Earth. It doesn’t take long to fall into its rhythm, letting go of the business of the outside world, in favour of a more peaceful, simple existence. This is true paradise for those lucky enough to visit. 

What to pack

Pack lightly, but bring essentials such as medications, a fully charged power bank (minimum 30000 mAh depending on the devices you are bringing), extra memory cards for your camera, etc. You’ll want to travel solely with soft-sided luggage (ideally duffel bags that can be both carried and wheeled). Leave your drone at home; there’s a high chance it will be confiscated by airport authorities in the UAE, where they are illegal.

Most operators will travel with local crew, including a guide, drivers, and chef. The food on our trip exceeded all expectations: a rotating cast of local chicken, freshly caught fish, and the ubiquitous goat, all prepared by our cook in the open air by our camp.

A friendly local on Socotra

If you intend on going with an operator who offers scuba diving, you’ll want to bring all of your own gear, as essentially none is available for rent on the island given there is a sole divemaster. Tanks and weights are of course available, but I recommend bringing an extra mask and ensuring your dive computer has a good working battery. Walid (the local scuba instructor) has a few other pieces of gear for rent, but given the remoteness of the island, the selection is limited and prices are steep. 

Fun fact: There are three things you will see endless amounts of on Socotra: goats, pufferfish, and vultures.

Detwah lagoon, Socotra

The allure of islands

“We live—as we dream—alone…” - Joseph Conrad

These words of Conrad’s resonated with me when I first read them in Heart of Darkness years ago. In many ways, we live independently, never truly knowing the depths of others. For years, I’ve been drawn to remote islands when I travel, and since travel isn’t quite possible right now, I’ve taken some time to reflect on why. Islands are solitary, independent, stoic—they don’t care whether you tend to them or not; they can fend for themselves. They’re the perfect escape, and yet, they are also inescapable. The next ship or flight out may not be for a few days, and until that time, you’re committed. 

One of my favourite beaches on Ikaria

One of my first trips to an island was to Ikaria, which, according to Greek mythology, is formed from the remains of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun. Ikaria is a spectacular mix of dramatic, steep mountains inhabitable only by goats and stunning beach coves where the cliffs meet the sea. Though the island briefly gained some popularity following a New York Times article describing the island’s inhabitants’ longevity (many currently live well into their 90s or later), spurring a wave of dining on Mediterranean staples, it remains a calm and simple place. In a way, things here are much as they were 50 years ago, and perhaps even further back. There is no room for posturing on an island of this size, as everyone knows each other, and gossip remains a vital form of currency. With roots in Ikaria, Mihalis Kavouriaris has been running a language school high up on the northern side of the island, by the village of Arethousa, for over 20 years. Offering a range of relatively intensive courses in Greek language and culture, the school attracts students both young and old, with one thing in common: a sense of adventure. Reaching Ikaria involves a flight into Athens, followed by a transfer to the port of Piraeus, after which you board a ferry for the six hour ride to Evdilos or Agios Kirykos, the two port towns on Ikaria. You can also fly to Ikaria, bypassing some of the journey, but that feels a bit too easy. It was, after all, Odysseus who showed us that the journey is just as important as the destination. 

A beach on the eastern side of Ikaria

The port town of Evdilos on Ikaria

Once at the school, mornings and early afternoons are occupied with classes, but the sun of the midday and late afternoon are all yours. I spent many a scorching afternoon daydreaming at the small outdoor tables overlooking the Aegean (on a clear day, the island of Chios and mainland Turkey come into view), writing down my hopes and dreams for the future. For what I might become. Islands can push you to take a hard look inside yourself and reflect on what you are, and what you want to be, in a way that no other place can. Islands, after all, are focused on survival: what truly matters? What do we need to live? 

The Seychelles

A few years ago, I was lucky enough to travel to a much more remote set of four islands, the Aldabra Group in the Seychelles. Uninhabited save for a few researchers who receive supplies by ship several times a year, this group of atolls was spared destruction by humans because it has no source of fresh water. It is the only place in the world besides the Galápagos where the giant tortoise roams, and you feel very much a passing visitor to a foreign land. You can reach one of the islands, Assumption, by small plane, but you’ll need a ship to see anything else. We travelled there aboard the National Geographic Orion, setting sail from Dar es Salaam in Tanzania a few days prior. One evening, we came ashore from the ship via Zodiac and witnessed sea turtle hatchlings heading out to sea under the superbly clear southern sky. Never had I seen such a dizzying array of stars, so many that it seemed there was more light than darkness in the sky. With the warm Indian Ocean lapping at our feet, it was comforting to feel that we were the only humans around for miles, in a place inaccessible to others: that is also the magic of an island. 

A giant tortoise on Aldabra island

Much of the enchantment of islands is not immediately visible—you’ll need to go below the surface. Aldabra is a coral atoll, and with the tide, while scuba diving or snorkeling, you can drift into its inner lagoon, the current pushing you along its abundant reefs and wildlife in a crystal-clear reverie. Schools of snapper, aggregations of eagle rays, and solitary sea turtles pass by with the most imperceptible of nods. Just offshore, shivers of black-tipped reef sharks circle in the shallows, and you immediately feel a sense of wonder for these often-feared animals. These sharks have no interest in humans, preferring to explore the warm waters in search of fish and to play-fight among themselves. But they are curious: upon dipping a camera into the water, I quickly found a young shark investigating this novel intruder, nudging with its snout to test its boundaries. 

The Faroe Islands

Some islands have developed rich cultures that over centuries have thrived on their seclusion. The Faroe Islands, accessible by plane from Copenhagen, are a place I’ve often dreamed of during this quarantine. Due to the islands’ remoteness, the local people have developed a way of life drawing on their creativity and resourcefulness: food is often fermented to preserve its nutrients for harder times, and no piece of any animal is wasted. More remote villages have been connected via an intricate network of tunnels to ensure passage even during rough seas, resulting in a dispersed but also interdependent population. The islands’ beauty feels all the more striking due to their isolation: you recognise what a privilege it is to experience such a place, to hike for miles in the company of nature, without coming across another human being.

The Faroe Islands

Manhattan from above

And yet, the beauty of islands does not necessarily lie in their remoteness. Some are inhabited so densely that you might easily forget you’re on one. Manhattan is a perfect example: you could live your entire life without leaving, and its connections to the rest of New York City are so heavily trafficked as to feel permanent. Bridges, ferries, subways, buses, bikes are constantly buzzing, and the sense of scarcity here is defined more by the distance between the haves and the have nots. Yet each time I see the Manhattan skyline after some time away, I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of possibility: all humanity is here, and you can find anything you like, at any time of day or night. Authentic Colombian arepas? Just around the corner. Some of the best sushi in the world, flown in daily from Tsukiji fish market in Japan? A few blocks’ walk. A strong community of multi-generational Italians? A short subway ride. In the midst of so much activity, you feel that you are a part of something, that you belong. In the end, perhaps that’s what we live for: this sense of belonging. In many ways, islands group like-minded people, allowing us to share our feelings, plans, and dreams. They are reminders of what we really are.

What place do you dream of?

The most beautiful city in the world

For more island reading, check out this piece by scientist Vivien Cumming.

Planting new seeds on Niue

The waves gently hugged the shoreline as Fiafia Rex showed me how to replant coral pieces in new spots with biodegradable rubber bands. A founder of Oma Tafua, or Niue’s Whale Research Team, she, along with other islanders, are doing their part to help counteract the effects of global warming with the replanting of coral and trees. The last major cyclone to hit the island in 2004 caused significant destruction, with water levels reaching over the cliffs well above us, washing away houses along the shoreline, including most of the capital, Alofi. 

But let’s back up a bit. Niue is a self-governing state in association with New Zealand, though it’s actually located nearly 3,000 kilometres to the northeast, roughly halfway between Fiji and the Cook Islands. Largely comprised of limestone cliffs, which have created dramatic cave and chasm formations, Niue is the largest raised coral atoll in the world, making for some beautiful scuba diving in the surrounding waters. Migrating whales visit the island during the winter months, from July to October, and while the summer can bring rain showers and the aforementioned cyclones, it’s also a much quieter time to visit. With a resident population of some 1,500, that may not make much of a difference, but I found myself completely alone on the many hiking trails and hidden gems the island has to offer, a refreshing change of pace from city life. Note that the extensive coral means that most of the shore is relatively rocky, and access is tide-dependent: this isn’t a spot for a beach vacation.

Hio beach, one of the only sandy beaches on Niue

The main road on Niue

The only way to reach Niue is by two flights a week from Auckland on Air New Zealand, or by ship should you have the chance. You’ll cross the International Date Line en route, so you can relive the previous day all over again in a new locale. I stayed at the Namukulu cottages, about a 25 minute drive north of Alofi and the airport. Run by Michelle and Ross (along with their young daughter Abby), who purchased the property and moved from New Zealand several years ago, they are a peaceful respite for those who are a bit more independent. I hired a car from them for an additional 40NZD per day, which I would highly recommend, and Michelle was there to greet me at the airport. As I visited during the December holiday period, I also got to meet Michelle’s sons George and Harry, who attend boarding school in New Zealand during the school year. Finally, their dog Ruby was always there to greet me and request ear rubs whenever I returned to the cottages. There’s a pool to cool off in, the vistas over the ocean from the property are fantastic, and my inner child loved jumping on the large trampoline. I also thoroughly enjoyed their custom of having a homemade pizza meal with the family the evening of my arrival.

Talava arches, Niue

A full loop of the island by car will likely only take you a few hours, but the plentiful places to stop mean you could easily spend days exploring the island. Well-marked signs indicate many points of interest as well as the amount of hiking time required. One of my favourites was a 20 minute walk each way to the Talava arches, a set of natural archways once used as a lookout point for impending invaders. A walk through a tropical forest filled with several species of crab (I spotted coconut, known locally as uga, hermit, and purple and beige land crabs) leads to a stunning cave, and a short climb down (there are ropes in place) reveals the stunning arches. Better yet, the only sounds were those of crashing waves and seabirds singing overhead. I felt at peace.

A resident coconut crab

Hiking on Niue

Equally impressive is the freshwater Anapala chasm, which was once used for bathing and drinking. It’s best to come at midday, when the little light that can enter through the top of the cleft illuminates the hues of pale green and blue in the water. You can swim through to wider chambers further along the chasm, and the coolness of the water makes for a refreshing break from the outside heat and humidity. Fossilised coral forests make for a challenging if rewarding walk before or after at the nearby Togo Chasm. 

Perhaps the most spectacular sights on Niue are below the surface. I went diving with Rami of Magical Niue and his partner Jody and encountered a richly hued world teeming with life. We saw large schools of fish, sea snakes, moray eels, stingrays, and reef sharks. Unfortunately, as is increasingly typical these days, the coral did show evidence of algae growth and bleaching. Rami has started collaborating with university researchers internationally to replant and regrow coral in areas where it has died off, and thus far his efforts appear to be working. Nature can be quite resilient if we do our part. 

Avaiki

Numerous spectacular snorkeling spots abound as well. My favourites were Avaiki (go during low tide so that you can access the pools) and the Limu Pools (accessible at any time of day). Avaiki was the landing place of Polynesians who came to settle the islands, and the name comes from a derivative of Hawaiki, their ancestral home. The Limu pools feature a rich array of fish, crabs, and sea snakes, and you can also access the outer reef through a channel in the northernmost pool should you be feeling more adventurous. 

Limu Pools, Niue

Driving around Niue is a cultural adventure in itself. You’ll see numerous graves along the side of the road; Christianity was introduced to the island in the 1800s, and today family members are buried directly on their family land rather than a central cemetery. The Niueans I met along the way were incredibly friendly and relaxed, and it’s local custom to wave to anyone you see as you pass by. One of my favourite local interactions was when the aforementioned Fiafia of Oma Tafua invited me to lunch with her colleagues after our coral replanting session at one of the tastiest restaurants on the island, Falalafa. Over freshly grilled fish and chicken, they recounted the challenges they face as the inhabitants of an island small in size but great in conservational importance due to its pristine natural reserves. If you’re looking for a true getaway, Niue is for you.

Niuean sunset

Where to stay

Note that there are just a few options given the size of the island. I stayed at the family-run Namukulu cottages. There is also a hotel on the island, the Scenic Matavai resort, but I found it to feel impersonal when I visited for dinner, and the food unfortunately left much to be desired.

Where to eat

Falalafa for lunch or dinner (the fish & chips are particularly good)

Crazy Uga for a quick bite or morning coffee (note that they close after lunch)

Violama for light bites and cocktails (they run a happy hour with live music on Thursdays)

Gills Indian restaurant for their $5 lunch special

Packing list

Hiking shoes (the sharp coral makes flip flops a poor choice)

Water shoes

Bathing suit

Snorkel gear

Scuba gear & certification card

Light layers

Rain jacket

One last note: keep in mind that this is a very remote island, and as such, everything is relatively expensive. It’s not uncommon to bring some of your own food and supplies from New Zealand, being mindful of customs regulations. On the day of your arrival, you may purchase alcohol (beer, wine, and spirits) duty-free at the liquor store near the airport, next to the island’s main supermarket, Swanson.

Holbox: island of whale sharks and bioluminescence

I’m a big fan of islands, and Holbox is no exception. Fortunately, it is still relatively under the radar. That may be because it is relatively hard to reach (a flight to Cancun, followed by a 2-hour shuttle ride to Chiquilá, followed by a 30 min ferry ride to the island). A few hours away from Cancun, it is a different world. With few cars on the island (mostly used by locals/for construction), most people use golf carts (unfortunately there are many of these), bike or walk to get around.

But the real draw here is a few dozen miles offshore. Every summer, from May through September, there is an abundance of plankton in the waters northeast of Holbox, which in turns draws hundreds of whale sharks. Whale sharks, for those who have not yet been inundated with photos of the spotted, majestic beasts on social media, are the largest fish and are filter feeders, their favourite food consisting of plankton and small fish. Along with them arrive boat trips from both Holbox and Isla Mujeres with tourists ready to jump in and snorkel with the sharks. Most of these tours follow the same script: two tourists in at any given time with a guide, pairs swapping out every few minutes. You’ll get 2-3 chances to swim with the sharks, which feels like not enough when you’ve spent a couple of hours on a boat getting there. I’d recommend getting together a group and chartering your own boat so that you can spend your time as you wish.

On the return, most boats will stop at Bahia Ceviche, a fantastically beautiful patchwork of long colours blending into each other—beige into blue into green into rose. It’s a beautiful spot from which to watch the resident flamingoes bend and straighten their thin legs in a gracious dance as they feed in the surrounded waters.

Punta Cocos

The inhabited parts of Holbox are also a treat, largely shaped as a grid around the main square, featuring some colourful murals and street vendors. I particularly enjoyed a long walk west along the north shore to Punta Cocos, where we relaxed on hammocks dipping into the crystal clear water and watched in amusement as a dog chased and pounced on fish and rays. In the distance, a trio of flamingoes did their dance, and everything was serene. On the way back into town, we ducked into the Holbox Animal Sanctuary along the way to see a few local rescues, then stopped for a well-deserved meal of some of the best ceviche I’ve ever had, accompanied by chips with guacalucy (a spicy version of guacamole), at Ceviches la Chingada.

Mural in the main square of Holbox

Our hotel was the stunningly designed and intimate Punta Caliza, and it was surprisingly easy to settle into a calmer rhythm where our only concern became when to order our next round of margaritas. The other guests at the hotel included a family of four from New York, with an incredibly funny Mom who would include us in her jokes, a gay couple with an architectural wonder on Fire Island, and a mother and daughter, who happened to share a birthday with my friend while we were on the island. The staff graciously created a drink special in honour of their birthdays and offered 2 for 1 on it all afternoon. Breakfast was included and was always a creative affair, ranging from the sweet to the savoury, and the staff were happy to make adjustments as needed.

Hotel Punta Caliza

Hotel Punta Caliza

We also enjoyed the cocktails and small bites at nearby Luuma, and Milpa (reservations required) for fun, inventive, more upscale food and cocktails. But by far the best meal on the island was had at El Chapulim, where we wished we had had more time to return. Skippable is Barba Negra, where the tacos sounded good, but missed the mark and took a very long time to arrive, despite us being some of the only customers, as well as Casa las Tortugas—a beautiful hotel with nice views from the rooftop, but the cocktails were too sweet and the service lacking.

Breakfast at Hotel Punta Caliza

Unfortunately, Holbox is also one of the buggiest places I’ve been—any spot I missed with the mosquito repellent was promptly found by mosquitos. If I didn’t reapply repellent frequently, I was also tracked down and tormented by the mosquitos.

One evening after it was completely dark, we decided to brave the mosquitos and walked east along the shore until we had passed all the hotels and restaurants, and around us was only the sea and the jungle. Wading into the water, we were surrounded by flashes of bright blue bioluminescence from the plankton, which releases light when disturbed. We went for a quick dip, amazed at the sky full of stars blinking overhead and the lights surrounding us in the water. For just a few days, we escaped the hustle of New York and discovered the small paradise of Holbox. Go before it’s too late.

Packing list

• Copious amounts of mosquito repellent

• Bathing suit

• Mask & snorkel

Where to stay

Hotel Punta Caliza

Where to eat & drink

Ceviches la Chingada

Luuma

Milpa (reservations required)

El Chapulim