My own motivation for joining this particular alpine adventure was equally compelling, though rooted in a more immediate, primal need: I desperately needed a ski gang. The reality of adult friendships often means divergent interests; none of my closest friends shared my passion for carving through fresh powder, and my brother, my usual ski partner, was regrettably out of action with an injury. Beyond the slopes, however, lay a deeper, more profound yearning: a good night’s sleep. My two-year-old son, whom I adore beyond measure, had, by some quirk of genetics or circumstance, become an insomniac, still waking four times a night. The relentless cycle of bedtime battles and fragmented rest had left me perpetually weary. My partner, Holly, ever practical and discerning, had bluntly but kindly pointed out that we could both profoundly benefit from "a temporary break from family life," a diplomatic phrasing for what amounted to separate holidays designed for individual rejuvenation. And so, Holly embarked on a walking trip with her friends, seeking her own form of respite and outdoor activity. I, in turn, opted for a week of exhilarating skiing in the renowned French ski resort of Les Deux Alpes. My chosen facilitator for this much-needed escape was Friendship Travel, a specialist operator with over two decades of expertise in crafting exceptional solo travel experiences. Their service model is elegantly simple yet profoundly effective: they secure a comfortable chalet, fill it with like-minded solo skiers, and comprehensively arrange travel, the majority of meals, and crucially, structured group ski lessons. This comprehensive approach ensures that solo travellers are not only looked after logistically but also integrated into a supportive and engaging social environment from the moment they arrive. The phenomenon of solo travel has witnessed a remarkable transformation in recent decades, evolving from a niche, often stigmatized choice into one of the travel industry’s most dynamic and rapidly expanding segments. Colum McLornan, who founded Friendship Travel in 1999, has been a firsthand witness to this paradigm shift. "Travelling alone was often seen as unconventional, and for many it carried a stigma," McLornan reflects. "But travellers are increasingly seeking independence, flexibility and personal growth. What was once viewed with hesitation is now celebrated, and solo holidays have become one of the fastest-growing segments in the industry." Indeed, global statistics underscore this trend, with reports indicating that solo travel accounts for a significant portion of the tourism market, estimated to be worth over $200 billion annually. Demographically, it’s driven by a diverse array of individuals: from younger generations seeking adventure and self-discovery to an increasing number of "silver splitters"—retirees and those post-divorce or bereavement who, like Vivienne and Adriana in our group, are embracing their newfound freedom to explore the world on their own terms, often valuing the safety and camaraderie of a curated group experience. Our base for the week was a comfortable, generously sized chalet, strategically located just a short distance from the resort’s bustling, mile-long central strip. The prospect of embarking on a group holiday with a collection of complete strangers is, for many, a significant leap into the unknown, fraught with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. However, any initial trepidation quickly dissipated upon arrival. I was warmly greeted by Sam and Mike, our wonderfully low-key and efficient hosts, who expertly managed the chalet and our group’s needs. After being shown to my private room – an option I highly recommend for ultimate relaxation, though sharing with a same-sex stranger is available for those looking to save money – I was introduced to my fellow holidaymakers. Our group comprised a diverse mix of 17 individuals – nine women and eight men – and we were swiftly ushered into the inviting lounge for an initial briefing and a welcome drink. The atmosphere was immediately upbeat and easy-going, a testament to the shared excitement and open-mindedness of solo travellers. We gathered around one large table, a convivial setting for what proved to be an excellent three-course dinner, marking the beginning of our collective adventure. Friendship Travel typically caters to guests aged between 35 and 65, and our particular group comfortably sat at the upper end of this demographic, bringing with it a wealth of life experience and engaging perspectives. Among us was Vivienne, a retired nurse from Cumbria, who was bravely navigating a new chapter after recently losing her partner, finding solace and new purpose in travel. Adriana, a vibrant "silver splitter," was clearly relishing the newfound freedoms and opportunities that retirement and a changed marital status presented. While a few of us, myself included, were first-timers to the solo group holiday concept, many were inveterate solo travellers, epitomized by Ivyon, a former production operator from Bridgend, who proudly declared this her 90th-plus trip, a testament to the enduring appeal and success of this travel style. This blend of seasoned solo adventurers and eager newcomers created a rich tapestry of experiences and expectations, fostering an environment of mutual curiosity and support. The first morning dawned crisp and clear, filled with the promise of fresh snow and exhilarating runs. We set off early to our ski lockers, conveniently located at the bottom of the slopes, a practical detail that streamlined the daily routine. A useful tip I’d learned was to book equipment hire in advance, a simple foresight that saved a welcome €40, allowing for a smoother start to the ski day. As we navigated the initial logistics, the group naturally began to fragment, gravitating towards individuals with similar skiing abilities or simply those with whom an immediate rapport had formed. This organic process allowed small cliques to form, easing any lingering social anxieties as people relaxed and began to identify potential après-ski buddies – an essential component of any successful ski trip. I found myself skiing with Elaine, Clemmie, James, and our expert guide, Luke, forming the "level 4 advanced" group, a designation based on our pre-trip self-assessment of ability. Les Deux Alpes, a resort renowned for its high-altitude skiing and extensive network of pistes, had recently undergone a significant infrastructure upgrade. The backbone of its lift system, the new Jandri 3S cable car, whisked us effortlessly up to an impressive altitude of 3,200 metres in a mere 17 minutes, a dramatic improvement over the previous 40-minute journey. This enhanced efficiency meant more time on the slopes and less time in transit. As we ascended above the broken clouds, a breathtaking panorama unfolded: the astonishing, jagged peaks of the Écrins National Park stretched out before us, a majestic testament to the raw beauty of the French Alps. The air was crisp, the views expansive, and the sense of anticipation palpable. From this lofty vantage point, we blasted down a thrilling mixture of broad blue and red runs, interspersed with some exhilarating yet not overly challenging blacks. The snow conditions were superb, a soft fall providing excellent grip and cushioning. Despite none of us having met before the trip, our group quickly settled into a harmonious rhythm, effortlessly looking out for one another as the snow continued to fall softly around us. There’s an undeniable safety in numbers, particularly when venturing into the less-groomed, off-piste sections. As Clemmie enthusiastically remarked, "I’d never have tried that alone," articulating a sentiment shared by many in the group – the collective confidence and shared experience allowed us to push our boundaries and explore terrain we might have shied away from individually. The camaraderie fostered a sense of shared adventure and mutual encouragement, transforming challenging runs into memorable triumphs. Afternoons typically brought more invigorating skiing, followed by the joyous, hands-in-the-air ritual of après-ski. Our chosen haunt was Skandal, a popular spot in Les Deux Alpes that had recently reopened in 2025 after an extensive extension, now boasting an even larger, packed terrace pulsating with energy and the beats of a live DJ. As sundown approached and the mountains began to glow with the golden hour, the chalet WhatsApp group would inevitably start to ping with activity. "Polar Bear Pub, anyone?" would be a typical message, often initiated by Micheál from Armagh, whose dependable enthusiasm for a pint made him a much-appreciated partner for evening socializing. These informal gatherings, both on and off the slopes, were integral to the group’s bonding, transforming strangers into fast friends and creating a lively, inclusive atmosphere. While the appeal of solo travel is undeniable, navigating group etiquette can, at times, feel like a subtle minefield. The unspoken rules and social nuances require a delicate balance of independence and consideration for others. For instance, nobody enjoys waiting for latecomers (a category into which I occasionally, and sheepishly, fell); there’s the subtle question of whether it’s rude to always sit in the same seat at breakfast (probably, I mused); and the perennial dilemma of whether it’s acceptable to peel away from the group and ski by oneself (up to a point, it seemed, maintaining a balance between personal preference and group cohesion). Then there was the wine conundrum: would I look like a skinflint if I opted to buy my own, more discerning bottle instead of partaking in the included, sometimes less-than-stellar, chalet wine? (Absolutely, but life’s too short for plonk, I quickly decided). These small social considerations, though minor, are part of the learning curve of group travel, highlighting the dynamic interplay between individual desire and collective harmony. Among the many interesting characters I met, an honourable mention must go to Steve, a jolly retired doctor from north London. I thoroughly enjoyed his vivid stories, which spanned from cruising the mighty Yangtze River to his early skiing adventures with his father in Austria during the late 1950s. Despite our considerable age gap, we quickly struck up a genuine bond that lasted the entire week, proving that shared experiences and open conversation can bridge generational divides. Naturally, not all guests are equally interesting or universally fun; one seemingly endless dinner conversation about printer cartridges had me dreaming of the sweet escape of Netflix in my room, a reminder that even in the best of groups, moments of mild tedium are inevitable. Then, almost as suddenly as it began, the week drew to a close. I found myself exchanging warm hugs and promises to keep in touch with my newfound ski gang, before heading to the train station, bound for home. The overarching question remained: would I embark on a solo group holiday again? Without hesitation, my answer is a resounding yes. Our chalet hosts, Sam and Mike, struck the perfect balance, being helpful and attentive without ever being intrusive, allowing the group to organically find its rhythm. The skiing itself was superb, especially the exhilarating high-altitude runs on the Glacier de Mont-de-Lans, which offered consistent snow and breathtaking views. Most importantly, I met a wonderful group of people with whom I genuinely intend to stay in touch, forging connections that extended beyond the slopes. And perhaps best of all, after weeks of relentless sleep deprivation, I finally got some much-needed, restorative sleep, returning home refreshed and re-energized. This unforgettable trip was expertly provided by Friendship Travel. A seven-night package, including a private room in a shared chalet, daily breakfast and afternoon tea, dinner with wine on five evenings, and six days of invigorating group ski lessons in the spectacular setting of Les Deux Alpes, costs from £1,820 per person. Return rail travel from London to Grenoble, ensuring a comfortable and scenic journey, was thoughtfully provided by Eurostar, completing a truly holistic and enriching solo travel experience. Post navigation The vital moment comes a couple of hours into the walk.
