Chadner Navarro
August 4, 2025
The Namib: A spot for solo travelers who crave the edge of the map.Getty Images
You’ll never be truly alone in the savanna.
This story is part of our Trips of a Lifetime collection in honor of 25 years of Virtuoso, The Magazine.
I’m on a six-seat Cessna over the Namib, headed for the crimson dunes of Sossusvlei. A planner at Wilderness, the outfitter that coordinated my trip, told me that seeing Namibia by air is special: From above, as you transit from one region to the next, you can see the country’s dramatic landscapes shape-shift from grasslands to mountains to gorges.
The family of three sitting in front of me oohs and aahs at the views we’re soaring over, showing each other the photos they’re snapping with their phones. When we hit some turbulence, they hold hands as the mom, her eyes shut tight, mutters something in a foreign language, perhaps a prayer. I’m by myself, so instead of reaching over to hold the pilot’s hand, I cross my arms around me, press my chin to my chest, and whisper an invocation of my own.
At Wilderness’ Kulala Desert Lodge, guests greet the morning with views of Namib-Naukluft National Park.Wilderness Kulala
A frequent solo traveler, I’ve learned to manage a journey’s thrills and anxiety-inducing moments on my own. I’m not the only one. Solo travel is on the rise: A recent survey found that 50 percent of Americans plan to travel alone in 2025, and this year’s Virtuoso Luxe Report – a trend outlook featuring intel from Virtuoso travel advisors – confirms that sentiment. Of all the best solo-travel destinations, though, you’re not likely to find many single adventurers on a luxury African safari. Maybe it’s hard to imagine that such a big-ticket vacation could be ideal for a party of one. But hear me out: If you consider personal connection and expanding your horizons important elements of solo travel, a safari – and all its awe-inspiring moments – delivers.
In flight above Sossusvlei’s clay-colored dunes.Wilderness Kulala
I’ve always wanted to visit Namibia. The country and its staggering desert scenery offer a different take on the safari experience – it’s not like the game-drive classics of Kenya, Tanzania, and South Africa, but it’s a fascinating alternative or second-time-around destination. I learn that right away, once I’m safely on solid ground and surveying my surroundings at Wilderness’ Kulala Desert Lodge, which is the only camp in the area with its own private entrance to Namib-Naukluft National Park.
I agree to a sundowner with the family from my flight. Later, driving around the Kulala Wilderness Reserve, taking in Sossusvlei’s rust-colored peaks and slopes, I’m thankful our guide gives a wide berth to trotting ostriches (my avian foes and I have a long history), while learning that my travel mates are from Moscow. We bond over my struggle to learn Russian in college and raise a glass to our trip as the sun sets.
At Wilderness’ Hoanib Skeleton Coast Camp, your neighbors travel in herds.Wilderness Hoanib
Not 12 hours later, I’m back in the sky on a sunrise hot-air balloon ride (Namibia is best from a bird’s-eye view, remember?). From up here, crowding a wicker basket with total strangers, the country’s desolate expanse looks like Mars. The starkness is bewildering and meditative. After the flight, our guides set up a stunning breakfast spread for our group of about 70, who have come from all over Sossusvlei. There’s sparkling wine, locally roasted coffee, homemade croissants, and smoked zebra – a Namibian delicacy often used in biltong (jerky) or, in this case, charcuterie. Seating arrangements are grouped by bookings; couples, for instance, are at tables for two. I spot my place in the middle of it all – a solitary setting surrounded by families, honeymooners, and groups of friends. A nearby table waves me over to join, but after a 4 a.m. wake-up call, I don’t mind the alone time.
I’ve realized that while I’m here solo, I don’t have to be by myself. It’s easy to choose when to be social and when to savor solitude. A few days later, at Hoanib Skeleton Coast Camp on the country’s wild northwest coast, I discover I’ve been assigned the tented suite farthest away from the main house. The Wi-Fi barely registers, but from my patio with a mug of French press coffee, I’m otherwise enthralled by a family of elephants grazing in the distance. Occasionally, a playful pack of monkeys appears, running around the camp’s arid, scrubby grounds. In the middle of nowhere, thousands of miles from anyone I know, I’m perfectly at ease.
On Namibia’s Skeleton Coast, dunes plunge straight into the Atlantic.Getty Images
On my last day, I’m joined by a retired couple from Montana on an excursion to Namibia’s wild Atlantic coast, where seals and shipwrecks await. On a game drive through the Palmwag Concession and Skeleton Coast National Park, at first we don’t say much to each other aside from an odd comment about where the giraffes are or how to best position ourselves to get a good shot of the elephants. But eventually, camaraderie settles in. Maybe it’s watching two leopards chomp at an oryx that does it – one conversation about the circle of life later, and we’re getting along famously. We talk about our past travels, we make up stories about a pregnant lion we spot, and over a seaside paella picnic, we chat about their plans for an upcoming multigenerational family trip, grandkids and all. Unprovoked, I suggest some destinations. By this point, I’m pretty much their adopted son.
Instead of driving back to camp, we’re taking a 20-minute flight. We hit a few minor bumps in the air, and even though neither reaches out to hold my hand, both of their assured expressions let me know we’re fine. We may have started this day as strangers, but in this moment, I’m relieved to be in their company. Many think that a big trip such as a safari is best savored with family and friends. But thanks to travel’s largesse, who’s to say that the connections you make with strangers aren’t equally special in their own way?
