November 2016: As with many of my travel ideas, my visit to Bioko Island in Equatorial Guinea was sparked by a National Geographic article about the Gran Caldera—a remote, mountainous rainforest so difficult to access that drills, hunted to near extinction in other parts of Africa, remain unafraid of humans. In a country known for its authoritarian rule and one of the lowest human rights rankings in the world, I set out to explore this untouched wilderness. Strangely enough, the best way to do so was through an American institution—Drexel University—which manages the science and conservation program for the Luba Crater Scientific Reserve, a vast expanse of rainforest and coastline in western Bioko.
This is the story of my week-long journey through Bioko Island.
About Equatorial Guinea
Location of Reserve on Bioko island
Equatorial Guinea, a former Spanish colony in equatorial Africa, is one of the only Spanish-speaking countries on the continent, alongside Western Sahara. The country is geographically divided between a mainland region and Bioko Island. It is ruled by President and long-standing dictator Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo, the world’s longest-serving national leader. Obiang has maintained his grip on power largely due to the billions of dollars the country receives annually from oil exports, primarily to the United States. However, the vast majority of this wealth enriches Obiang, his family, and top government officials, while little of it reaches the general population—leaving Equatorial Guinea among the poorest nations in the world.
Dissent is ruthlessly suppressed, and political opposition is virtually nonexistent. Another key factor in Obiang’s hold on power is the country’s strict control over foreign visitors. Equatorial Guinea has long been wary of outsiders, in part due to past coup attempts involving foreigners. With its immense oil wealth, the government has little economic incentive to develop a tourism industry and tightly restricts access to the country. As a result, Equatorial Guinea has gained a reputation as one of the most difficult places in the world for foreigners to visit.
For most nationalities, obtaining a visa is nearly impossible, with the notable exception of Americans, who are granted visa-free entry due to U.S. oil companies’ operations in the country. Even for those who do gain entry, travel within Equatorial Guinea is heavily restricted, requiring permits for movement. Corrupt and abusive police officers, bureaucratic obstacles, and constant government suspicion further deter visitors. These factors make Equatorial Guinea an unappealing destination for all but the most determined and adventurous travelers.
An Obiang Poster-Commonly Displayed throughout Bioko Island when I was there
Getting There
Drexler University has been invited by the government to help study and promote ideas to protect the reserve and all of Drexler’s funding comes from Exxon, the American oil company giant that drills in Equatorial Guinea. Drexler is a guest of the government and must follow all permit protocols and there are many. I wanted to hike the gran caldera, a dormant volcano crater with rainforest so remote that its primate populations are un-accosted by humans and exhibit little fear. The only problem is that permit is virtually impossible to obtain by the government to visit the caldera and to visit I would need to tag along with a scientific expedition from Drexler University and there were none planned. Instead, I was able to convince the field manager of the conservation program for the Reserve to let me join a team of scientists living in the reserve in remote field camps where they are studying primate such as drills and nesting sea turtles. My selling point to let the field manager let me join the researchers was that I can provide insight into establishing ecotourism, which can further aid in the conservation of the reserve. Up until my visit, tourism was non-existent, and I felt like there was a lot of potential that could also benefit local communities and create an alternative to hunting bushmeat. The window to visit the reserve was only a few months from late November until March-the short dry season when it still rains a lot but just not in Noah’s Arc proportions like it does during the rest of the year. My permits were arranged by the university along with transportation and I was responsible for bringing my camping gear and food.
My friend Charlie and I flew from Gabon via Douala, Cameroon to Malabo, Bioko Island. The flight from Douala to Malabo was via a Boeing 777 connecting from Addis Ababa. The plane was ridiculously large for the short 45-minute flight and had very few passengers. In immigration, I expected draconian treatment from power hungry immigration officials, who I had been told might seize my SLR camera if they spotted it, so I disassembled it and spread it out throughout my backpack to conceal it. To my surprise, once the officials observed my American passport, they stamped me with no extra scrutiny. It was as if, they had been given order to treat Americans well given most of the oil infrastructure in the country was being provided by American oil companies and politicians have mostly turned a blind eye to the human rights violations of the Obiang regime because of this. We met the Drexler field supervisor at the airport, and we headed straight to the west side of the island passing through several checkpoints where our permits were checked by military personal before arriving in the Moka camp cloud forest reserve, where the headquarters of the Bioko Biodiversity Protection Program is located.
Moka Reserve
Moka Reserve is nestled in the cloud forest near a few rustic villages. Due to the high elevation, temperatures dropped significantly at night, making for chilly conditions as we slept in tents. While there, we met some of the park rangers and American scientists—Ph.D. researchers working on Bioko Island through Drexel University’s conservation program.
One of the scientists casually mentioned that he had spotted a bush baby the previous night. I immediately perked up and excitedly asked where. Seeing my enthusiasm, he offered to take me on a night hike through the cloud forest. As we ventured into the darkness, we encountered an array of fascinating nocturnal creatures. We spotted chameleons and, to my amazement, at least ten bush babies. Photographing them was nearly impossible in the dark, as they would leap dozens of feet into the air the moment they detected us.
Bushbaby that was camera shy
Huge foot long chemelion.
Moaba Camp
We were dropped off at the end of the road alongside a few scientists who had just arrived to begin their research season, as well as a ranger, whom we paid the required daily stipend. The ranger then led Charlie and me on a 3- to 5-hour trek along a jungle-clad beach, crossing multiple streams and rivers before reaching Moaba Camp—a remote research outpost nestled in the dense rainforest along the shoreline.
The oppressive heat and humidity made the hike exhausting, and I desperately wanted to cool off. However, the powerful waves crashing onto the beach looked far too dangerous for swimming. By the time we reached camp, we were drenched in sweat and covered in sand flea bites. As we set up our tents, one of the scientists casually asked if we wanted to cool off in a nearby waterfall. Before they could even finish the sentence, we were already heading in that direction.
Less than a 20-minute walk from camp, we arrived at one of the most beautiful and untouched waterfalls I had ever seen. A scientist explained that, on occasion, drills descended from the mountains to drink from its waters. The cool, cascading falls were an absolute relief, and I swam beneath them, soaking in the refreshing escape from the jungle heat. Over the next two days, I spent hours in the water each day, making the most of our time at Moaba Camp.
Hiking to Moaba Camp
Beach waterfall on our hike to Moaba Camp
Lava Formations on Beach
Another beach waterfall
Ocean at Moaba Camp
Our camp at Moaba Camp
My little slice of heaven at Moaba Campin the Waterfall
My little slice of heaven at Moaba Campin the Waterfall
Hermit crab on the beach
Moaba Camp is deep within the reserve, surrounded by miles of untouched mountain and lowland rainforest, with pristine coastline stretching endlessly in all directions. There are no villages—only pure, untamed wilderness.
The volcanic beaches, lined with piles of exotic rainforest driftwood, feel completely wild. Hermit crabs scuttle across the sand in every direction, making the shore seem alive. This is not the kind of beach for lounging or sunbathing; it’s a raw, untamed landscape where nature reigns supreme.
Driftwood on the beach at Moaba Camp
Our visit coincided with both a full moon and sea turtle nesting season. The scientists at Moaba Camp were studying the turtles, primarily Green turtles, that nested along the beach.
One night, we walked under the glow of the full moon without flashlights, searching for sea turtles. We spotted a few, but as soon as they noticed us, they instinctively began making their way back to the ocean. Wanting to avoid disturbing them, we kept our distance, allowing them to finish burying their eggs undisturbed.
Walking along the humid, moonlit beaches, with the jungle at our backs and the waves crashing beside us, was a highlight of my African travels. We were deep in true wilderness, on a remote tropical island in the Gulf of Guinea. In that moment, I felt completely in my element—overwhelmed with gratitude for the rare opportunity to experience such an untouched world.
Hiking the beach looking for sea turtles nesting under the full moon at Moaba Camp
Moraka Camp
After two nights at Moaba Camp, we set out on an all-day trek to Moraka Camp, another remote research outpost situated at the foot of the Gran Caldera. This was the final base before the challenging hike into the Caldera itself. Moraka Camp felt even wilder than Moaba, with a greater chance of spotting monkeys, drills, and the world’s largest sea turtle—the leatherback—nesting on the nearby beaches. The rare Pennant’s Red Colobus monkey was commonly seen in the trees around camp, and researchers frequently encountered drills, which sometimes snuck in to steal food. The possibility of seeing these rare animals excited me, but we certainly had to earn the opportunity.
The trek was long and grueling. We followed the beach for much of the way, carefully timing our hike around the tides. Certain sections of the route became impassable at high tide, as the rising waters flooded the river crossings, making them too deep to cross—or worse, filling them with dangerous bull sharks. In other areas, we climbed over jungle-clad hills via steep, overgrown trails tangled with vines and roots. The intense humidity drenched us in sweat as we carried our heavy packs, led by a Spanish-speaking ranger who guided us through the dense terrain.
Occasionally, we encountered small groups of fishermen gathered around cooking fires on the beach. We stopped briefly to visit with them. One elderly fisherman, missing most of his teeth and dressed in tattered clothes, told us he lived in a village just outside the reserve. When he asked where we were from and we responded, “America,” he laughed and said, “Oh, President Trump!” Then, with a knowing grin, he added, “You can’t trust the rich,” and chuckled again.
The U.S. election had taken place just a few weeks before our trip, and I was surprised that this old man from a remote fishing village not only knew of Trump but had an opinion on him. Yet, through my travels, I had come to realize that many people in the developing world—despite lacking access to electricity or modern conveniences—often seemed to have a broader awareness of global events than the average American.
Hiking to Moraka Camp
Arriving at Moraka Camp, we collapsed in exhaustion, completely drained from the long and grueling trek. The scientists at the camp were surprised to see us but welcomed us with kindness and generosity—though understandably, they weren’t willing to part with their most prized food items, like cheese.
Moraka Camp
Volcanic beaches at Moraka
We spent two nights at Moraka Camp, where the researchers showed us around and introduced us to some of their daily routines. They pointed out the best freshwater swimming hole—a deep, crystal-clear spring teeming with colorful river fish. The spot had a breathtaking view of the ocean and was almost as spectacular as the waterfall at Moaba Camp. If we had more time, one of the researchers had offered to take us to another waterfall deep in the jungle, known for its excellent swimming hole.
I also joined the researchers on their daily primate count, an essential part of their conservation work. Although we spotted drill tracks, we weren’t lucky enough to see any in person. However, we did encounter several other rare primates, a thrilling experience in itself.
The western side of Bioko Island is notorious for heavy rainfall, yet up until reaching Moraka Camp, we had been fortunate to avoid any downpours. That changed dramatically one night. As we lay in our tent, a massive storm rolled in, bringing torrential rain, deafening thunder, and flashes of lightning that illuminated the jungle in eerie bursts. The relentless pounding of rain on our tent, combined with the crashing thunder, was terrifying—I half expected a tree to come crashing down on us or, worse, for our tent to be struck by lightning.
By morning, we woke to find the camp flooded, though the puddles quickly receded as the sun began to rise. The jungle, now saturated and glistening, felt even more alive in the aftermath of the storm.
Primate unique to Bioko
Moraka Beaches
Storm Coming
Seeing the Giant Leatherback Sea Turtles Nesting-A Wildlife Watching Highlight
From Moraka Camp, I joined the researchers on one of their nightly counts of nesting sea turtles. The primary nesting beach was about an hour’s hike from camp, stretching approximately a mile long. This beach is considered one of the best nesting sites for leatherback turtles in the world, with a significant portion of the global population returning to Bioko Island to lay their eggs.
As we walked, the researchers explained an incredible phenomenon—no matter how far a sea turtle travels, sometimes thousands of miles across the ocean in search of food and mates, it will always return to the very beach where it was born to lay its own eggs. How they navigate such vast distances remains a mystery. During nesting season, researchers maintain a constant presence on the beach, rotating shifts to monitor the turtles 24/7—day and night, rain or shine. Their role is both scientific and protective, as their presence helps deter poachers, though poaching is relatively rare here. However, even minimal human interference can have a devastating impact on the fragile turtle nests.
When we arrived at the beach under the full moon, we didn’t need flashlights. The silvery light illuminated the sand, revealing fresh tracks leading to several enormous green turtles. Unlike leatherbacks, green turtles lay their eggs closer to the jungle line, requiring them to travel farther up the sand. Sometimes, this journey proves fatal when turtles become trapped among the trees and roots at the beach’s edge. That night, we found one such turtle—a massive green turtle wedged between two giant gnarled tree roots. It was struggling, unable to free itself. The researchers and I immediately began digging, loosening the sand around its hulking frame, which easily exceeded 200 pounds. As we worked, the distressed turtle hissed and kicked, its powerful legs flailing, armed with dagger-like talons. After considerable effort, we finally freed it, and the moment it regained its bearings, it turned and made its slow but determined retreat back to the ocean.
The highlight of the night, without a doubt, was witnessing leatherback turtles nesting. These prehistoric giants—relics of the dinosaur era—are the largest turtles in the world, growing to three times the size of a human. Seeing them up close was mesmerizing; their reptilian features and sheer size made them seem almost otherworldly. Unlike green turtles, leatherbacks lay their eggs only a few dozen feet into the beach to minimize their time on land. We came across several in the act of laying eggs. At this stage, they are incredibly vulnerable, neither retreating nor defending themselves. One of the researchers explained that during egg-laying, they enter a trance-like state, completely oblivious to their surroundings for the ten minutes or so it takes to deposit their eggs.
As the researchers carefully took measurements, I snapped a few photos—without flash, as bright light can disturb them. The researchers had specifically asked me to avoid using flash photography to ensure the turtles remained undisturbed.
We stayed on the beach until midnight, counting turtles and observing their nesting behaviors. At one point, while the researchers moved ahead, I stayed behind, sitting alone beside a massive leatherback under the full moon. I sat in complete silence, listening to the rhythmic lapping of the waves, simply existing in the moment. As long as I remained motionless, the turtle seemed unbothered by my presence.
It was a rare and humbling experience—one I will never forget.
Hike to the remote beaches near Moraka to see the nesting sea turtles
Scientist taking measurements of a nesting Leatherback Sea Turtle
Leatherback sea turtle
After two nights at Moraka Camp, we began the long hike back to the road, racing against the rising tide. We barely made it out in time before the water levels became impassable. Once we reached the road, we hiked another mile or so to a nearby village where we could finally get cell phone reception to call and announce our arrival.
From there, we drove all the way back to Malabo, passing through a landscape dotted with faded, decaying Spanish colonial towns and multiple military checkpoints. That night, we stayed at a research dormitory in Malabo and joined the research director and other Drexel University researchers for a big dinner at a local restaurant—one of the fancier spots in town. Over the meal, we shared our experiences and offered some eco-tourism ideas for the region.
The next morning, we boarded a flight from Malabo back to Gabon-Dodging Charging Forest Elephants in One of Africa’s best Places to View Wildlife of the Equatorial Congo Rainforests-Gabon | Venture The Planet, ready to resume our travels there.