Climbing Volcano Karthala on the Indian Ocean Island Nation of the Comoros

November 2021: When Plan B Became the Adventure

From Angola Covid Cancellations to a Volcano in the Indian Ocean

The Comoros Islands weren’t part of my original plan. I had wanted to visit for a while, but I didn’t expect them to become the centerpiece of this trip. My actual destination was Angola, but just days before departure, the Omicron Covid variant outbreak upended everything. Angola abruptly canceled all my flights, and my carefully laid itinerary collapsed.

Stranded with limited options, I looked at where I could still go—and how I could eventually get home. The only viable way back to the U.S. was via Ethiopian Airlines, whose hub in Addis Ababa happened to be just a few hours from Comoros. With little hesitation, I pivoted. Comoros became Plan B—and, as it turned out, an unexpected highlight.

The New Goal: Climbing Karthala Volcano

Once I landed in Comoros, I set my sights on one main objective: climbing Mount Karthala, a massive active shield volcano that dominates the main island of Grande Comore. The idea of standing on the rim of its vast crater, one of the largest in the world, immediately gave this detour a clear and exciting purpose.

Location of massive Karthala volcano on Gran Comoros island

Discovering Comoros

An Overlooked Island Nation at the Crossroads of Cultures

The Comoros Islands are a true off-the-beaten-path destination, tucked away in the Indian Ocean between Madagascar and Tanzania. Despite their incredible natural beauty and cultural richness, they remain shockingly underdeveloped for tourism. But perhaps that’s part of their charm.

Comoros sits at the crossroads of Africa and Arabia, and its people reflect this unique blend. Ethnically, the population is a mix of mainland Africans, Malagasy, and Arabs. The islands were once ruled by the Omanis, and because of this legacy, the people are Arabic-speaking and predominantly Muslim.

In more recent history, Comoros became a French colony, and although the islands gained independence in 1975, one island—Mayotte—chose to remain under French control. As a result, French is also widely spoken alongside Arabic and Comorian.

Three Days on Grande Comore

Volcanic Landscapes and Island Simplicity

With only three days to explore Comoros, I chose to stay on Grande Comore, the largest and most developed island in the chain and home to the capital city, Moroni.

Grande Comore is dominated by Mount Karthala, an active shield volcano that rises nearly 8,000 feet and last erupted in 2006. Its looming presence is inescapable. No matter where you go on the island, you feel its shadow—ancient and recent lava flows are visible everywhere, winding through villages, across hills, and down to the sea.

Some of the most striking places were the island’s beaches, where black volcanic rock meets white coral sand—a visual reminder that this land is constantly being shaped by fire and ocean.

A Race Against Bureaucracy

The PCR Test That Nearly Cost Me the Volcano

I had only three days in Comoros, but the COVID-19 PCR test required to exit the country ended up eating into my limited time—almost jeopardizing my goal of climbing Mount Karthala. The testing process was confusing and disorganized, especially for someone who doesn’t speak French. It was so complicated that I ended up hiring a fixer just to help me schedule the test.

To begin the process, I had to hand over my passport to the fixer so he could arrange the appointment. The next day, a doctor visited my hotel to administer the test. I received the results on the morning of my departure—cutting it incredibly close. There’s only one place in town that handles testing, and doing it without assistance would have been nearly impossible.

One Day for the Volcano

A Brutal Push Up and Down Karthala

This bureaucratic detour left me with just one full day to attempt the hike up Mount Karthala. Ideally, the trek is done in two days with a camp overnight at the summit, but that wasn’t an option for me.

The trail climbs through dense cloud forest, eventually giving way to high-altitude heathland, filled with towering giant heather trees and otherworldly scenery. The summit sits at nearly 7,000 feet, and the round trip is roughly 20 miles—7,000 feet up and 7,000 feet back down in a single day.

I knew it would be punishing, and it was. But with only this one window of time, I had no choice but to push through and make it happen. Physically, I’d be wrecked by the end—but mentally, I knew it would be worth it.

View of the Turquoise Waters Around My Hotel

My beach bungalow at Golden Tulip Hotel

Island Time in Comoros

No Resorts, No Crowds—Just Sand, Sea, and Simplicity

Most of Grande Comore’s beaches remain untouched—pristine and undeveloped. You won’t find any mega-resorts here; there are no Hiltons or Marriotts, just a scattering of local guesthouses and a few modest attempts at tourist hotels. I stayed in one of those beachfront hotels—rough around the edges, rustic, but full of character.

The Charm of Simplicity

That rustic charm was exactly what I loved about Comoros. My beach bungalow overlooked a perfect white sand cove, and when I wasn’t preparing for or recovering from the Karthala climb, I spent my time swimming in the turquoise waters, alone with the sound of waves and the occasional passing breeze. It was peaceful, raw, and unspoiled—a reminder of what tropical travel used to feel like before the world discovered every corner.

In the morning these little chameleons would raid my breakfast table

Exploring Grande Comore by Road

Coral, Lava, and Daily Life

Before climbing Mount Karthala, I had to take the COVID test, which gave me the rest of the day to explore the island. I hired a car and driver and set out to see as much of Grande Comore as the rough roads would allow.

The roads were mostly unpaved and in poor condition, so we couldn’t make a full loop of the island. Still, we made it to Moroni, the current capital, and Iconi, the former capital during Omani rule.

Coral and Lava Architecture

The highlight of the day was discovering Iconi’s architecture—buildings constructed from a blend of lava rock and coral, a legacy of Omani influence. These old structures stood out with their unique textures and history, offering a glimpse into Comoros’ past.

As we drove through villages and towns, I also enjoyed simply observing everyday life—people walking barefoot along the roadside, markets buzzing with energy, and the gentle rhythm of island life continuing on, untouched by mass tourism.

Old Mosque built of lava rock in Moroni

Old French colonial building in Moroni

A Glimpse of Island Life

Friday in Moroni and the Spirit of Comoros

To my surprise, Moroni was busy, its narrow streets choked with traffic and small vehicles. But once we left the capital, the roads quickly emptied. It was Friday, the Muslim holy day, and many people were walking—heading to mosques as the weekend began at noon.

Men wore Islamic tunics and caps, while women dressed in abayas with floppy straw hats over their face veils. The atmosphere felt deeply pious, but never extreme. Mixed groups of men and women strolled together, often laughing and smiling, giving the impression that people here genuinely enjoyed life in their remote island nation.

Clouds Over Karthala

As we drove around the island, dark rain clouds passed overhead, offering dramatic light for photography. The heaviest clouds loomed directly over Mount Karthala, swirling above the volcano like a warning. I couldn’t help but worry about the next day’s climb, wondering whether the weather would hold.

Strolling Through Iconi’s Past

I took time to walk around the old town of Iconi, where quiet streets led down to a coral-lined coastline. The serenity of the scene—old mosques built from volcanic rock, gentle ocean breezes, and a sense of timelessness—was yet another highlight of my time in Comoros.

The cliff in Iconi where village women once climbed to commit suicide when slave raiders came from Madagascar

Houses Made of Coral and volcanic rock

Abandoned Friday Mosque made of Volcanic Rock Hundreds of Years Old

Common scene of local men meeting along the side of the road

Kissing Rock

A Visit to the Kissing Rock

After Iconi, my favorite stop was the intriguingly named Kissing Rock. My driver and I (no kissing involved) hiked out to the formation from the roadside, and the view was worth every step. From the cliffs, I could take in the stark beauty of the island—volcanic rock meeting turquoise sea under brooding skies.

Beauty and Reality Side by Side

But alongside that beauty came reminders of Comoros’ deep poverty. Scattered along the roadsides and at the edges of villages were piles of trash and abandoned vehicles. Rusting car wrecks were a common sight, slowly being reclaimed by the landscape. It was a sobering contrast—one that underscored how far removed Comoros is from the infrastructure and development seen in more visited destinations.

Abandoned Junked Car

Comoros Typical Clothing

Comoros Woman with Sun Hat, a hat I saw women wearing all over the island

Village Scene

Lac Sal-Volcanic crater lagoon that fills with ocean water from beneath the ground

Me sitting on a 1000-year-old baobab tree

Paradise

The Climb Begins

No Breakfast, Torn Shoes, and an Early Start

The morning of my Karthala climb had finally arrived. We set off at 4:30 a.m. to beat the heat of the day—but things got off to a rough start. My hotel, despite promising a packed breakfast, forgot entirely. So, I began one of the most demanding hikes of my life on an empty stomach.

Fortunately, I had packed my gear the night before and quickly double-checked everything before leaving with my driver. He had arranged for a local volcano guide, who picked up some food and water along the way. After a 30-minute drive, we met the guide at the base of the trail, sitting roughly 1,000 feet above sea level. The climb would begin on a steep 4WD track, rough and rutted with broken lava rock—a path that would challenge even the most rugged vehicles.

Unprepared Footwear and a Silent Guide

Because Comoros was never part of my original plan, and the Karthala trek was a last-minute decision, I didn’t have the proper gear—most notably, no hiking boots. I wore worn-out running shoes with zero toe protection, and a tear was already forming. I worried they might not survive the climb, let alone the descent.

To make matters more isolating, my guide spoke only French, with just a few basic words of English. That meant the long trek ahead would be mostly silent, with little chance for meaningful conversation or guidance beyond hand gestures.

The Water Problem

My guide, a man in his 60s with tattered footwear worse than mine, surprisingly lifted my spirits. But as I checked our supplies, a new concern emerged: not enough water.

I had planned to drink about 8 liters during the hike. The guide brought only 2 liters for himself and 2 for me. When I voiced concern, he insisted in broken English that he had more water stashed in a hut higher up the trail. I wasn’t convinced—but he offered me his own bottle, saying he “didn’t need to drink.”

That wasn’t an acceptable solution, of course. I figured we had just enough water to make it to the hut, and if his supply wasn’t there, I’d still have enough left to turn back safely.

Villagers that were carrying heavy supply bags on their head to a cattle camp high up on the volcano taking a rest 

Into the Cloud Forest

Sweat, Steep Trails, and Passing the Last Villagers

We began the hike through the humid cloud forest, where the trail quickly left behind the last traces of village life. Any agricultural fields faded away as the terrain turned to dense jungle, thick with moisture and vines. The trail was steep, and despite the cool breeze of early morning, I was soon drenched in sweat from the intense humidity.

As we climbed higher, we passed a few villagers carrying heavy supply bags on their heads, heading to a remote cattle camp farther up the trail. They moved with a quiet efficiency that made the difficulty of the terrain look effortless. Watching them disappear into the mist ahead only reminded me how far we had to go.

Hard hike to the top with a heavy bag

Life in the Canopy

Endangered Pigeons in the Cloud Forest

Despite the threat of illegal logging, much of the cloud forest on Karthala remained remarkably intact. We hiked through thickets of lush ferns, beneath the occasional towering old-growth tree that had somehow escaped the axe.

The air was alive with sound. Black parrots, found only in Comoros, screeched loudly as they soared overhead. I also caught glimpses of Comoros fruit bats gliding between trees and a Comoros pigeon perched quietly on a branch—both species endemic and endangered.

In a place so isolated and undeveloped, these rare animals felt like living remnants of a world untouched, clinging to the slopes of the volcano they’ve called home for millennia.

Ferns that grow along the trail

Rare Comoros Pigeon

Into the High Heathlands

A Welcome Water Resupply and Thinner Air

After about three hours of hiking, we finally emerged from the cloud forest into a striking new landscape—open grasslands mixed with dense heath bushes. The change in scenery was dramatic and refreshing, though the trail was no less demanding.

We soon reached a small hut, nestled near a grazing area for cattle, where the land flattened slightly. As promised, my guide had stashed extra water there, and I was relieved. With our supplies topped up, we were ready to push for the summit.

According to my guide, we had about two hours left to reach the crater’s edge. But with the gain in elevation, every step was getting harder. The air was thinner, the terrain rockier, and my tired legs were starting to feel the weight of the day.

Up in the heath forest

The Final Push

Ridges, Ocean Views, and Perfect Weather

The trail led us straight up through a series of ridges, weaving through grasslands and scrubby heath, with incredible views of the ocean and coastline stretching out far below. As we climbed higher, the temperature began to drop, and I pulled on my fleece jacket for warmth.

Fortunately, the threatening rain clouds seemed to cling to the lower elevations, lingering over the cloud forest we had already passed through. Above us, the skies opened up—bright blue and clear, offering ideal weather for the final ascent. The conditions couldn’t have been better.

View as we hiked to the top

The Quiet Strength of My Guide

A Naturalist, a Climber, and a Humble Expert

As we climbed higher, I couldn’t help but admire my guide. Despite being somewhere in his early 60s, he was far stronger and more sure-footed on the mountain than I was. I never once saw him take a sip of water, even as I reached for mine frequently.

Though he spoke little English, I eventually got him talking. He told me he had climbed Mount Karthala dozens of times and that he wasn’t just a guide—he was a naturalist with a background in biology, having studied the wildlife of Comoros for years. He explained that he is also a designated guide for scientists who come to study the volcano and its endemic species, and I could tell right away that he had a deep passion for conservation.

His calm presence, humility, and clear devotion to the land made the climb feel all the more meaningful.

Wildlfowers

Crater of the shield volcano

At the Summit

Wind, Ash, and One of the Largest Craters on Earth

After hours of climbing, we finally reached the rim of Mount Karthala. From the top, we were rewarded with a sweeping panorama of the entire crater—a vast, surreal landscape that looked like something from another planet.

The wind at the summit was ferocious, nearly ripping my hat off as I stood there trying to take it all in. Below us lay one of the largest volcanic craters in the world, stretching out in every direction—a barren wasteland of ash and rock. There was no vegetation, no signs of life—just a raw, scorched expanse shaped by the volcano’s most recent eruptions, which had wiped out everything in their path.

It was awe-inspiring and eerie, a stark reminder of the power beneath our feet.

Me looking out over the crater

A Sleeping Giant

Steam, Craters, and the Choice to Turn Back

Mount Karthala isn’t dormant—it’s very much alive and due for another eruption. From the summit ridge, my guide pointed out two smaller craters within the vast main crater—the sites of the last two eruptions. On occasion, he said, smoke still spills from the vents, a subtle but powerful reminder of the volcano’s volatile nature.

He offered to hike down into the crater to explore them up close, but it would have added several more hours to an already grueling day. With 5–6 hours of descent still ahead and nightfall approaching, I made the call to be content with the summit ridge experience.

We stopped for a quick lunch behind a cluster of bushes, sheltering ourselves from the relentless wind. After 30 minutes of rest, we began the long, knee-punishing descent back to the trailhead.

Return to the Sea

Collapse, Prayer, and a Surreal Sunset

I had been hiking from 5 a.m. to 5 p.m., covering 20 miles and ascending and descending roughly 7,000 feet. When I returned to my beach bungalow, I collapsed in exhaustion—but not before experiencing one of the most magical moments of the entire trip.

As the sun began to set, I stepped into the warm waters of the cove just in front of my bungalow. The sky was glowing, and the hypnotic call to prayer from a nearby mosque echoed over loudspeakers, drifting across the evening air.

In front of me, the tropical sun sank into the ocean, silhouetting traditional fishing boats, while giant flying fox bats soared across the horizon. It was a moment of absolute serenity and surreal beauty—one of those rare experiences in travel that you know, even as it’s happening, will stay with you forever.

Sunset over the beach in front of my bungalow

Fishing boats and flying fox bats in front of the setting sun over the Indian Ocean

Departure from Comoros

A Smooth Exit on a Dreamliner

The next morning, I received my COVID test results—right on time. With clearance in hand, I caught my flight out of Comoros aboard an oversized Ethiopian Airlines Dreamliner 787, a surprisingly large plane for such a remote island.

The journey back to the USA was smooth and uneventful, a quiet close to what had been a spontaneous, demanding, and deeply memorable adventure.