São Tomé and Príncipe: an adventure on the equator

São where? That was the reaction I usually got when I told people about my travel plans. After all, hardly anyone has even heard of São Tomé and Príncipe, a small island state off the west coast of Africa. Which was reason enough to make me want to go there. I’ve always been drawn to the remote corners of the world, and when I discovered these two far-flung islands on the map, my curiosity was piqued. Those two tiny dots in the Atlantic also evoked a sense of nostalgia harking back to childhood: they reminded me of my favourite children’s book, which was about a deserted island out in the ocean, far away from anything else. And who better to take with me on an adventure in homage to my favourite children's tale than the man who read it to me in the first place: my father.

Rainforest, rough surf and blue sea

Our trip began on the rugged west coast of São Tomé, where Atlantic waves strike volcanic rocks with full force. Right behind this rocky edge, the rainforest starts. The island is about 100 million years old – three times older than Galapagos or Hawaii. Having been around for such a long time, and isolated for most of it, São Tomé is home to some endemic species. Aside from its unique birds and specific varieties of orchid, it also boasts a highly venomous black cobra. As it approached land, our plane pushed its way through fluffy tropical rain clouds. The evening sun cast a golden glow on the green mountains, the rainforest, the breaking waves and the blue sea. Our anticipation rose as the plane dropped lower.

The luggage I had packed for this trip was a little different. No bike this time, unusually for me. Instead, I had brought a packraft – an ultra-light, inflatable kayak. While the sea was a bit too daunting a prospect for my father, who prefers to enjoy nature on dry land, I was keen to explore the islands from the water. You can also go hiking in São Tomé and Príncipe, but my father and I were there during the rainy season. Getting wet at temperatures of 27°C was not an issue for us, but the muddy paths make the jungle even more impenetrable than usual. One day we braved it anyway, got completely drenched and eventually gave up and turned back.

The significance of cocoa

My first kayaking destination was the double island of Ilhéus das Cabras. After about an hour of paddling, I reached a small beach in the middle of the island. An old lighthouse dating back to the 19th century rose up from the rocks, while the water was clear, calm and inviting. I went snorkelling, losing track of time as I became engrossed in a colourful underwater world. I only resurfaced after being approached by a fisherman, who had paddled up in his dugout canoe to check on me. We didn’t understand a word each other said, so we got by with a smile, a thumbs up: “Tudo bem!” (in English: ‘"Everything's OK!”).

A closer look at the island reveals another side to it, beyond its beautiful nature. In the early 20th century, São Tomé was the largest cocoa exporter in the world. Infrastructure, trade routes and power structures were designed purely for exporting cocoa. Now many of the cocoa plantations lie fallow. After the island gained independence from Portugal, they were nationalised, but lack of knowledge, lack of investment and inefficient structures led to them being abandoned. This triggered a prolonged economic slump. The island also has a high level of structural dependency. Almost all consumer goods in São Tomé are imported. Every gram of flour, every grain of rice, every drop of fuel. Every few weeks, a container ship arrives – so big that it doesn’t fit in the harbour. The containers are towed ashore from the open sea by barges, and everything that is exported leaves the island state in the same way. No wonder that Maxence, a young Frenchman whom my father and I meet while visiting a cocoa plantation, is relieved when his container of cocoa beans leaves the island dry. Maxence recently inherited the cocoa plantation and wants not only to make it profitable again, but also to provide jobs and fair working conditions for people on the island.

Príncipe seems like a miniature version of São Tomé. Even smaller, even more remote, even less developed. Tourism here is still in its infancy. Bruno lives here and he took us on a ‘Volta à Ilha’, a circumnavigation of the island by fishing boat. With one hand on the outboard motor, he steered the small boat skilfully through the waves. In his other hand he held a long fishing line, which he pulled behind the boat. More than once, we felt a tug on the line. We passed basalt rocks, rainforest and palm trees and headed into secluded bays filled with crystal clear water, where we stopped for snorkelling. And while Bruno made a fire to grill the fish, I wondered whether this was all just a dream...

The equator runs three kilometres south of São Tomé, through the offshore island of Rolas. The idea of paddling once around the island, across the equator to the southern hemisphere and back again, popped into my head and I was set on carrying it out. But I respected the wind and the waves on the open Atlantic. About 100 metres out from the coast – where the waves were less steep – I started paddling against the wind and waves. The rocky coastline offered plenty of bays for landing, so if I found myself getting tired or making slow progress, I could carry the boat back across the two-kilometre-wide island on foot if necessary. But I was actually making very good progress and crossed the equator. It was a funny kind of feeling. On the south side the sea got rough. The waves beat against the sharp volcanic rocks, and down in their troughs I could only see the tops of the palm trees on a hill. Twice local fishermen stopped beside me and asked if I needed help – apparently me in my packraft was not the kind of thing they saw every day around here. I felt a little nervous, and the paddling was hard work.

A glance at my watch, which I was using to navigate to my destination, revealed that Praia Bateria was not too far away. “Obrigado, tudo bem”, I thanked the fishermen and carried on paddling. When I finally got past a few rocks, into calmer waters and onto land, I felt all the tension drop away. Standing alone on that beach after such an adventurous journey was a truly special moment. I unpacked my camera and drone, thinking I would maybe capture a picture of myself kayaking in this little bay. So I left my things on the beach and paddled out again. Suddenly the sea turned. The tide was reaching its peak. Waves were flooding the beach. My equipment was in danger of being washed away while I was out on the water in my kayak. The surf was breaking hard. With a neatly timed manoeuvre, I made it back to shore and cleared everything up. And just as quickly as it went wild, the sea calmed down again.

Rescued by mistake

I had a tailwind on my way back, So the waves carried me forward and I was moving fast. The power of the ocean, the light, the feeling of freedom – I couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. Until suddenly a motorboat turned about alongside me. In it was my father: “Come aboard, please. You’re being rescued – resistance is futile.” He was very worried and eventually arranged a boat for himself. I got in and we cross the equator a second time.

This trip was part of a long tradition of father-son adventures. We have experience of travelling together and make a well-coordinated team. Together, we have been to Norway, Iran, Myanmar, Djibouti, Ethiopia, South Africa, Zimbabwe and Lesotho. As we have both got older, our trips have gradually changed, in terms of both they way their are organised and their character. It’s not always easy to strike a balance between adventure and caution, between confidence and care, making sure that there is something in it for each of us. We had three goals for our trip to São Tomé: to spend time together, to escape the mass tourism crowds, and to enjoy the warm conditions. We managed to achieved all three. My dad used to read me adventure stories about travelling to faraway countries. Now we collect stories of our own that he can tell my children some day too.