Why The Best People to Travel With Might Be Strangers

The greatest part of an adventure might be sharing it with someone, as Sarah recently discovered. Whether you travel with existing friends or solo, often it’s the unexpected friendships you make along the way that leave the biggest impression. 

I held the postcard in my hands and turned it over. 

‘I miss hearing you and Zara laughing down the hallway at bedtime.’ My eyes filled with tears.

It was from Ami, a young American woman I’d only met a few weeks earlier. I never expected to think about her again, yet here we are. She’s become part of a group of women I miss as though they’ve been in my life for years.

Ami on data collection duty | Photo by Sarah’s friend Charlotte

The thing is our relationship is still so new, but that’s the fascinating thing about the friendships we make while travelling. Away from the routines of home and the distractions of normal daily life, we’re often more open to connection. 

Throw in experiences that are particularly challenging, that put you into intense and memorable situations, and somehow you come away knowing those people in a deep and meaningful way, when only days before you were strangers.

It’s kind of like when a pebble skims the smooth water of a lake, yet those ripples go on and on. You don’t get to see where they end.

In these environments bonding happens quickly

The Awkward Beginning

I’d had an opportunity to join an expedition in the Atlantic Ocean tracking whales. It was too good to pass up, but beneath the excitement of being part of a citizen science adventure sat uncertainty. 

The Azores Archipelago, our home in the North Atlantic Ocean | Photo by Sarah’s friend Charlotte

I’d be living and working alongside a group of complete strangers for ten days. Who would they be? Would we get along? Whether you’re on a guided hike in the middle of the wilderness or on a boat in the middle of the ocean, there’s that question in the back of your mind – ‘What if I don’t fit in?’.

We’d all be staying on a small island, housed together in shared accommodation. Just another thought that sent shivers down my spine. ‘I can do hard things’, I reassured myself as I climbed the stairs to meet my roommate on the first day. I’d already met most of the group outside a local bakery where I’d done my best to make myself small by observing, listening, and trying hard not to be heard. 

I’m a people person, no question. I pick up new friends like I buy groceries. But I also value my own space. The idea of sharing every meal, daylight hours and evenings, with the same group – every day – felt daunting.

And shared time on a boat? Where you can’t leave? | Photo by Sarah’s friend Charlotte

I knew, though, that the adventure of this trip overrode the discomfort I was feeling, and I gave in to trusting that whatever unfolded would be part of the experience.

Those early conversations are awkward, filled with small talk about hometowns and empty silences. I remember we talked about our jobs and the reasons we signed up, presenting carefully curated versions of ourselves as we tried to figure out where we might fit in. 

What was clear early on was that we were twelve strangers brought together by a shared love of whales, citizen science, and adventure. And in those first few days everyone formed bonds with each other. 

My roommate Zara and I quickly discovered we shared a similar sense of humour and delighted in sarcastic observations about life, despite our age difference. Before long we’d established a comfortable rhythm of afternoon pub visits, cups of tea in bed while tapping away on our laptops, and laughing so hard tears streamed down our faces.

Sarah’s roommate Zara looking all wistful | Photo by Charlotte

Dinner conversations became easier over time as well. Awkward silences became replaced with stories about family, childhood, and life back home.  

When Everything Changed

Time on the boat each day brought us together as a group. We loved laughing, whether at each other or at the moments we shared on the boat. No one took life too seriously, and strong camaraderie soon developed. 

While we were aware this was the exception in a group travel scenario, it was on day three that things really shifted. 

On our first evening, we had all admitted – in turn – that seeing a Blue whale was our dream for this trip.

 On that third day – 120km offshore – we found one.

Whale spotting requires patience and a keen eye | Photo by Charlotte

The conditions were rough – really rough. Whitecaps crashed over the bow and the boat rolled from side to side in the inky black water, tossing us around like feathers. 

We slipped and stumbled, trying to document our observations. Then, there she was, and in that perfect moment everyone on the boat went completely still. 

An eerie silence fell over us, hanging in the air, and we all knew that this moment was truly special. That moment felt like only a few minutes but it lasted around an hour as we watched her glide and take an effortless dive. 

Her enormous fluke rose upright into the air and then gracefully sank below the waves, a scene we watched play out three times.

When I think back on that moment, I hear the camera clicking and the Cory Shearwater’s call echo through the wind. I feel the waves lapping against the boat and smell the diesel in the air. 

It was freezing cold, and the chill of that wind was whipping my face raw. After the moment had passed an energy buzzed through us all.

That was the moment everything shifted and we moved through the rest of our days as a cohesive group of atoms alive with energy and seeking each other out. We’d linger over meals, looking for reasons to spend more time together.

A Humpback whale raises its tail | Photo thanks to Biosphere Expeditions

From Strangers to Friends

On our only free day we realised we’d have to split off into smaller groups to explore the island we were on. I felt unexpected sadness at this, and it struck me how unusual it is to feel so connected to people you only just met. 

Five of us set off to hike the rim of the island’s ancient volcanic caldera. Wrapped in layers against the icy cold, we followed the narrow trail through mud and over rocky outcrops. We laughed and joked and instinctively took one another’s hands when the pathway became really gnarly. 

A volcano hike threatened to bring us even closer together

As we stared out at the dramatic landscape, we talked about everything from childhood memories to relationships and our philosophies. Conversation was easy, as if we’d skipped years of knowing and arrived somewhere deeper, in that place of complete trust and comfort. 

It was a breathtaking moment, the culmination of our previous days spent tethered together in a unique shared experience.

Together on the edge of the caldera

The Best Souvenir

Looking back, I’d say that adventure has a way of stripping us of the barriers we carry, leaving us with space for vulnerability and genuine connection.

Saying goodbye was difficult, but I knew it wasn’t an ending. Now we send glimmers from our lives scattered across the world in our group chat, and that postcard sits on my desk, a quiet reminder that sometimes the greatest friendships aren’t the ones we begin with, they’re the ones waiting to be discovered.

Sarah was hosted by Biosphere Expeditions to join this trip in the North Atlantic.