Make Someone Else the hero of their own story
- Apr 24
- 13 min read
A conversation with Adam McEwan, CEO, Co-Founder of Hero Experiences Group
I spent the night of December 31 to January 1 in the desert. It was the most unusual New Year I have ever experienced. No fireworks. No countdown. No background music.
Just sand, cold night air, and a sky so clear it felt almost intrusive. For the first time in a long while, I had both the time—and the darkness—to truly look up. To follow the movement of the planets. To see the Moon;
In Reflections on Happiness and Positivity, HH Sheikh Mohammed Bin Rashid Al Maktoum writes: “Positivity is a way of thinking, and happiness is a way of life.” In the desert, that idea felt less like a principle and more like a lived truth.
The desert has a way of stripping things back. It does not respond to noise or speed. It rewards attention and restraint. Every decision—where you drive, where you stop, how you build—leaves a trace.
That is why this conversation is not really about tourism.
It is about how we choose to move through fragile places. About what we take from them—and what we leave behind. About the difference between creating an experience and imposing one.
Platinum Heritage operates in one of the most unforgiving environments on Earth. Its approach quietly challenges many assumptions the tourism industry has relied on for decades: speed over care, volume over meaning, spectacle over context.
I wanted to understand why someone would choose to work against that logic—and what it costs to do things differently.
I had the opportunity to interview Adam McEwan, in a conversation titled “Make Someone Else the Hero of Their Own Story.”
This is a conversation about the desert—but also about leadership, responsibility, and long-term thinking, seen from a place where shortcuts simply do not work.
Anastasiia Lutcenko (AL): Adam, thank you for joining me. My first question is a basic one: how did it all start? How did you get involved in it?
Adam McEwan (AM): That depends on how far you want to go back into that question. For me, I guess you can trace it all the way back to when I was a young kid. But I was actually doing destination development for a cruise line — a small luxury boutique cruise line — and I had a really, really good job.
My job was basically to “build” the destinations that we were going to by choosing the tours and operators we worked with. And I saw the impact — positive and negative — based on what we were doing in each of these ports of call. So, I saw the effects of carefully curated, maintained experiences.
And I saw the opposite: when things were out of control and it led to over-tourism — let’s say a misrepresentation of some ports. Something that was convenient for the cruise line, but an inconvenient truth for the destination itself. So, cultures being misaligned, among other things.
So, personally, I felt I had a kind of penance to serve moving forward. I needed to correct some of the harm we had contributed to in certain places. When I came to the UAE and saw how the desert safari industry was being run, it felt — in my opinion — disingenuous for multiple reasons.
First, it was extremely damaging to the environment. From an environmental standpoint, I couldn’t understand how driving so fast over dunes wasn’t damaging them. So I started working with conservationists to better understand how we could protect the desert properly.
Before I founded Platinum Heritage, I was working at another desert tour operator which depended on mass tourism and offered dune bashing as a part of their experiences But as I researched alongside conservationists, we realized it was actually worse than I had thought.
Desert animals are nocturnal, so you don’t see them during the day. Many of them are also subterranean — they live underground. During the day, you’re not interacting with them at all. That’s why most people don’t understand that dune bashing is so damaging.
What you’re actually doing is burying the ecosystem — desert hares, many species of lizards, snakes, the natural predators of the desert — effectively burying their habitat alive by driving through the dunes at speed.
So I wanted to start a company that protected the environment and the desert. But there was another side I had observed as well: culture was being misrepresented.
I remember the first time an Emirati asked me a very simple question: “Why are we doing belly dancing?”
And I was embarrassed…
Why were we doing belly dancing? It’s not only not part of Emirati culture; it’s at odds with it. In addition to the clothing not being appropriate for the culture, the style of dancing and doing so in front of crowds were not aligned with the country's moral values.I realized we were damaging both the environment and the culture. I had to do better.
Over time, I began to question the way the previous company operated. Some practices — particularly around entertainment and the overall safari experience — felt disconnected from the cultural and environmental context of the area.
This became especially clear given the location: Sheikh Butti’s property borders the conservation reserve on three sides, and the way safaris were being run regularly caused frustration and concern.
I saw this as an opportunity to rethink the model entirely. My business partner and I agreed that if we were going to do this, it had to be done properly — in a way that respected both the land and the culture.
That’s when I approached Sheikh Butti bin Suhail Al Maktoum. I knew he was unhappy with how the safari industry operated, and I wanted to show that a different, more respectful approach was possible.
I saw an opportunity to create a niche. My business partner and I decided that if we were going to do something, we had to do it properly — in a way the country could be proud of.
From my time working on ships, I knew that the closer an experience is to authenticity, the better it is received by guests. I remember home visits in Japan — not restaurants, not hotels, just someone’s house. People loved it because it was real.
So I thought: we just need to lean into authenticity, protect the environment, protect the culture. There will be a small niche of people who appreciate that.
We didn’t start with the idea of building a big company or a large group. We started with the idea of serving a very specific niche.
AL: I imagine it was very challenging. Anyway, what was the most difficult part?
AM: When we first started, people didn’t just say it wouldn’t work — they laughed at us.
They said: “You’re not doing dune bashing?” “You have 70-year-old vehicles — who wants that?” “You’re not serving alcohol?” “You’ll never get Russian guests.” “You’ll never get English guests.” “No one will come without alcohol.” “No belly dancing, no Tanoura — who wants to see Emirati dancing?” “Who wants to eat Emirati food?”
They were convinced we would fail.
The biggest challenge wasn’t convincing guests — guests understood almost immediately. The real challenge was changing the industry’s perception. People do want something authentic. They don’t want — and I hate the term — a Disneyland in the desert. They want a real desert experience. But resellers insisted everyone wanted the same formula.
So we turned that into an advantage. We invested heavily in our own marketing and direct communication with guests. Instead of relying on middlemen, we spoke directly to people so we could explain why we do what we do — not just what we do. And that message really resonated.
That’s why we have such a large marketing team for a relatively small company. We realized that removing the middleman from our communication meant our message stayed clear and intact.
AL: And the communication really was perfect. I tried the experience myself — the person I was chatting with on WhatsApp replied constantly, and it wasn’t a chatbot.
Adam: No, not at all. Our experience consultants are genuinely passionate about the brand. They’re often out in the desert themselves. We invite them to experience the products, to take part in the balloon flights and everything else we do. They’re part of the team.
They work in the same office as us. They’re not outsourced to another country. They’re here. They live the story with us.
AL: How do you engage local communities in preserving nature and cultural heritage? Are there lessons from traditional Bedouin life that influenced your approach?
AM: The entire design of our camps is different from most others. The most significant difference is that our camps are built on top of dunes rather than in low pockets.
You probably visited either the Heritage Camp or the Platinum Camp?
AL: The Heritage Camp.
AM: Then you would have seen it — the camp sits on top of a dune, not tucked between dunes. The reason for that is something we learned not only from Bedouins, but directly from His Highness Sheikh Butti. We walked through the desert together, and he explained that this is how Bedouins traditionally built camps. They never built them in pockets. Most operators build camps in pockets for wind protection. We initially thought the same — that being lower would help block the wind. But he explained the opposite is true. When you build on top of dunes, you get natural airflow — a form of natural air conditioning. The heat and humidity settle in the lower areas. On top of the dunes, it’s cooler and better ventilated.
You also get natural pest control. Vegetation grows where humidity collects — in the low areas — and that’s where insects, spiders, snakes, and other wildlife tend to live. By building higher, you naturally avoid that. From a historical perspective, building on higher ground also allowed Bedouins to see who was approaching. It functioned as a natural defense system. So by building this way, you get natural cooling, natural protection, and natural pest control. We built our camps based on how they were historically built — not how the industry builds them today, but how Bedouins have always done it. We also consult with local Bedouins on traditional navigation methods, particularly astronomy.
Many people don’t realize that there were different tribes — coastal tribes, desert tribes, mountain tribes. During the pearl diving season, Bedouins from the desert would travel to the coast to participate. These were seasonal migrations. But how did they know when to begin a two-week camel journey to reach the coast on time? They navigated by the stars. Specific stellar alignments signaled when to begin the journey so they would arrive in time for the season. Their wives would also know — based on those same celestial signals — when the pearl diving season was ending and when their husbands would return. It was essentially the Google Maps of a hundred years ago.
AL: Probably more precise.
AM: Probably more precise. We also consulted them on how plants were traditionally used — for medicine, for food — and on wildlife practices, such as how Saluki dogs and falcons worked together with falconers during hunting. Menu design was another area of collaboration. We worked with Bedouins to incorporate ingredients like desert truffles and to understand how traditional dishes such as ouzi were prepared. They played a major role in shaping the content of the experience. Everything started from an authentic base. Of course, some adaptations were necessary. Western bathrooms are essential. Seating had to be adjusted — sitting on the ground and eating with hands wasn’t always well received from a hygiene perspective. For example, ouzi is traditionally wrapped in palm leaves, but palm leaves often carry sand and grit. So we wrap it in foil instead — the dish remains authentic, but the presentation suits modern expectations. We take authenticity as our foundation, and then adapt thoughtfully for a Western audience — without losing the essence.
AL: I feel you practice what’s often called cathedral thinking — long-term thinking, where small changes gain meaning over time. It’s real sustainability. Experiencing falconry and local cuisine truly changes a person. For us, it was December 31 and January 1 — very special. How do you balance luxury with sustainability and cultural heritage?
AM: That was one of our biggest challenges in the beginning. We wanted to offer what people would call a luxury experience — although we can set that word aside for a moment — while remaining authentically Bedouin. We reached a point where we realized we had two options: either compromise authenticity to meet conventional luxury expectations, or adjust those expectations to remain authentic. Unless we split the concept — offering one experience that leaned more toward luxury and another that leaned fully into authenticity. That’s what we decided to do. Internally, we called them the Platinum Heritage Platinum Collection — our luxury offering — and the Heritage Collection, which focused on authenticity. Those working titles eventually became the company’s name: Platinum Heritage. But what we really discovered is that luxury isn’t defined by vehicles or ingredients. It doesn’t have to be lobster or caviar. Luxury is about time. It’s about exclusivity. It’s about privacy. And most of all, it’s about respect. A truly luxurious experience respects the environment, respects people’s time, and respects the individual. Our philosophy is that the guest is the hero of the experience — but so is the environment, and so is our staff. We don’t decide who the hero is. In our training, we talk about multiple heroes. When you arrive at work, your task is to make someone the hero of their day. It might be a guest. It might be a colleague. It might even be yourself. But every decision should answer one question: does this make someone the hero of their own story? If the answer is no, you’re making the wrong decision. If the answer is yes, you’re moving in the right direction. We never want to be the villain of the story. We don’t want to turn guests into villains. We don’t want colleagues to feel like villains. Everyone should be a hero. That principle guides people toward doing the right thing. So for us, luxury is simply doing the right thing — respecting people, respecting their time, respecting the investment they’ve made in the experience. That’s real luxury. And even our Heritage Collection, in that sense, carries its own form of luxury.
AL I love this philosophy and believe it could be a model for other regions. Many philanthropists in Monaco focus on oceans, climate, and biodiversity. Can the desert become an equally powerful space for philanthropic engagement?
AM: In AlUla, we adapted the concept within a different environment called Sharaan. Sharaan is a nature reserve inside AlUla, and what’s remarkable is that within a single tour, you pass through five distinct biomes. In the UAE, we work within one desert biome. In AlUla, you experience five — a complete transition of landscapes within one protected area. The site has also received UNESCO-related recognition, which we supported during the evaluation process. We’re also collaborating with conservation teams working on rewilding leopards, helping design safe and suitable environments for their return. So the idea that started in a desert context has evolved into a broader environmental methodology. Different country, different ecosystem — same philosophy.
AL: Do you see this project scaling up? What’s your vision for the future?
AM: We scale across, not up. We don’t want more people in one place — but we can expand into different environments. For example, we’re currently in discussions around the North Riyadh Geopark. We’ve also developed activations in volcanic landscapes like Khaybar, where we created volcano walks, hikes, mountain biking routes, and safaris in a volcanic setting. The North Riyadh Geopark is entirely different. Places like the Edge of the World are extraordinary — fossils, petroglyphs, some over 2,800 years old. We can adapt our approach across locations without increasing volume. We want more activations, more places — but the same intimacy and controlled flow.
AL: So more impact, not more people.
Adam: Exactly.
AL: And it’s also a philosophical model — scaled as philosophy. I’ve never encountered anything like this before, especially during that night between December 31 and January 1. Monaco has many models, but this one feels unique.
AM: That’s a very good sign. We’re exploring alternative models where the essence remains the same, but the community, culture, and environment change. The core philosophy stays intact.
AL: How do you envision the project in 20 or 30 years?
AM: Legacy matters. All three partners are aligned on this: we didn’t start the business to make money. We started it to fix something we believed was broken in the industry. When money is the core driver, decisions become purely financial. Because it wasn’t our starting point, we make decisions based on how to honor the experience — whether that means elevating the guest, the culture, or the environment. That changes how you think. It also creates a more sustainable business model. You can anticipate trends, ride through them, even stay ahead of them. Take post-COVID travel preferences: smaller groups, privacy, outdoor experiences, connection with nature. These were things we had been doing for seven years before COVID. So in a way, we future-proofed ourselves without trying to — simply by doing the right thing from the beginning. We’ve survived recessions. We’ve survived COVID. And afterward, we didn’t need to pivot dramatically because our model was already aligned with what people wanted.
AL: That makes sense. Many companies didn’t survive COVID, yet you did — and during the experience, we felt completely safe and protected, which is rare. It was my first time in the desert, and our guide, Jawal, made everything feel secure. I was never afraid, which is essential.
AM: Interestingly — and not many people say this — I actually enjoyed running the business during COVID. From an entrepreneurial perspective, it was one of the most stimulating periods. You realize very quickly that every textbook can be thrown out. No expert knew more than anyone else — we were all starting from zero. There were no strategies, no case studies to follow. It was an opportunity to redefine ourselves and, in some ways, redefine tourism itself. I found that intellectually fascinating. Because I approached COVID as a challenge rather than a threat, that mindset spread through the team. People didn’t fear losing their jobs or the company collapsing. Our business model helped. We had vintage 1950s Land Rovers — I wasn’t going to sell them, so I parked half the fleet. Our camps were already built, so we reduced operations but didn’t dismantle everything. We retained staff, paying them 50% salaries while they stayed home with their families. The only condition I gave them was: use this time to learn. Learn a language. Learn astronomy. Learn the culture. Don’t spend six months playing video games. When travel returned, we were ready — vehicles, camps, trained staff, enthusiasm. And 2021 and 2022 became our best years.
AL: Staying creative, learning, moving forward — that’s essential.
AM: I believe so.
AL: You’re a real leader.
AM: When challenges arise, my partner and I always ask the same question: how do we turn this into an advantage? COVID can be an advantage. A recession can be an advantage. Tough times reduce competition. When the tide is high, everyone floats. When it drops, only those who should be there remain. As long as you stay centered — clear on why you exist — you can survive almost anything.
AL: What about Oman? Tourism there is growing rapidly.
AM: Oman is a very niche, relatively small market. They strongly prioritize Omani-led investment and employment, which I respect. For an external company, entry is challenging — restrictions on government contracts, ownership requirements, staffing regulations. We would need a local partner with majority ownership and a predominantly Omani team, which means starting from scratch. Given the market size, the investment risk is significant. Saudi Arabia, by contrast, is more open to external expertise, and the scale justifies the effort. That said, Oman’s Khareef season in Salalah is fascinating — rain, greenery, waterfalls in the middle of summer. We’re exploring a possible temporary activation during Khareef — May through September — in partnership with a local company. It would likely be seasonal rather than permanent.
AL: Some even say Oman could become the Monaco of the Middle East.
AM: It’s certainly a beautiful country — dramatic coastlines, caves, unique landscapes. We haven’t developed cave tourism yet, but we’d love to. We never want to copy-paste experiences. Each environment deserves its own expression. Desert, volcanoes, caves — each one tells a different story.
AL: One final question — I almost forgot. If you could pass one message to future generations through this project, what would it be?
AM: Instead of asking what you can do for yourself, ask how you can make someone else the hero of their own story.
