Graham’s words hung in the air as we huddled in a Luanda hotel, where our journey would begin. “In my head, I was already saying that if this trip is too dangerous, I’m not doing it,” he admitted.
A local had told us that Baía dos Tigres had waters infested with tiger sharks, the same waters we’d planned to cross by kite. Though just a rumor, the other things we’d heard didn't help: winds that mimic the howls of beasts, sighting of hyenas and packs of wild dogs mistaken for tigers. "I'd never heard of it before, and as soon as you asked for more information, it got scarier by the day," Ozzy said.
Not to mention the total insanity of getting to Baía dos Tigres itself. Rarely traversed, the path to the island is known as the Death Acre and is one of the most dangerous coastal passages in the world. It’s essentially a narrow stretch of beach along the Namib desert – an area the locals have dubbed ‘Os Riscos’, The Risks. The beach is hemmed in by relentless shorebreak on one side and the biggest dunes on the planet, on the other.
At high tide, the path is impossible. The waves break onto the dunes and leave your car sunken in the mud flats. Stories were abundant of travelers who’d been caught at high tide, escaping their cars laden with gear, which were swallowed by the ocean. Some said poor timing was the downfall, whereas others said it would just come down to luck. What was clear, though, was the danger. It was a place that had claimed lives and seemed poised to do so again. All this, a gateway to the island.
“I’d never heard of it before, and as soon as you asked for more information, it got scarier by the day.”
- Oswald Smith
Baía dos Tigres
Baía dos Tigres, far removed from any romantic notions, is an island with a ghost town, sitting desolate off the Angolan coast. Established by the Portuguese in 1860, drawn by its marine bounty, it flourished into Angola's prime fishing hub before the mid-20th century. This once-thriving village had it all: fisheries, homes, a chapel, school, hospital, post office, and even a theater. Now, it stands as a silent testament, its structures slowly yielding to time and the unforgiving desert winds.
Back then, Baía dos Tigres wasn’t an island. A thin stretch of sand dunes kept it linked to the mainland. This changed in 1962 when a Kalema (a fierce African surf) with 10m+ waves severed the connection. The surging waters also ruptured a vital freshwater pipeline from the Cunene River, leaving the island isolated. By 1975, amid escalating tensions of a civil war, most of the European inhabitants had abandoned the town.
Navigating the Death Acre
The three-day trip was carefully planned around low tide. We took off in three 4x4s, guided by Tiaan and Donovan. Alongside were Jop and Kyle, our cameramen, and the riders: Camille, Ozzy, and Graham. The expedition was organized and led by Matt, who grew up in the region, explored it with his parents as a child, and had worked there since he was 18. With over a decade of experience, Matt had always recognized the area’s potential for kiteboarding, but he had never found the right team for such an endeavor––until now.
“You have to be prepared,” Graham emphasized. “You need everything from fresh water to showering water – to food rations per day and medical supplies. You need compressors to let tires down to repair punctures. If anything goes wrong, there’s no help coming.”
As we drove through national parks, the sense of being enveloped by the wild was undeniable. “You don't see any wildlife until you hit the coast. There are sharks everywhere, shark nets, fishermen pulling sharks out,” Camille described.
“You have to be prepared…If anything goes wrong, there’s no help coming.”
- Graham Howes
We got to Camp Horror, named after the many cars that had sunk there. Despite this, we were feeling upbeat. We ended up sleeping under the stars. It was too windy to pitch our tents anyway. We’d wake up in the morning covered in sand. “You would just go to bed in your board shorts, sleep in the desert, wake up covered in salt and sand, shake it off, jump back in the ocean, rinse and start again,” Ozzy said.
Desert Playgrounds
On days with no wind or waves, we’d find our own entertainment. Graham came up with wakeboarding, towed by our car along the shore. And those 60-meter dunes? They were perfect for climbing to catch the sunset, sledding down, and even some crazy leaps. Pure, unadulterated fun.
One evening, we set up a night kite session, with cars parked and their headlights flooding the water. “We were just doing tricks, in the pitch black with fish jumping all around you,” Graham reminisced.
Triumph and Tragedy
Our first moments on the island were marked by an unexpected accident. Matt had a rough collision with a building’s protruding steel, resulting in multiple injuries. We didn’t know the full extent of the damage, but we were pretty sure his wrist was broken, and he seriously hurt his knee. Concern hung over us as we made him as comfortable as possible, hoping for the best but bracing for the worst. We knew our priorities had to shift from exploration to perseverance.
Seeking shelter for the night, we chose the old theater. We put Matt to bed and took a brief walk through the town. The church and the hospital, though crumbling and weathered by the sands, were still complete with medical supplies and books. Graffitied quotes in Portuguese were scrawled on all the walls. “That was the first moment you realized, this is the definition of a ghost town,” Camille said.
“That was the first moment you realized, this is the definition of a ghost town.”
– Camille Delannoy
Shortly after settling in, we faced our next obstacle – a mix-up at Base Camp left us with a 5L bottle of coal instead of water. We had only a liter of water, beers, and a bottle of tequila to share among us, including for cooking. The reality of our situation hit hard. We were stranded on an island with severely limited resources.
“Graham kind of took the lead in saying that nobody eats, drinks, pisses, or shits alone. It was the only way we could make sure nobody stole the food or water. We stick together, share everything,” said Ozzy.
We decided tequila was our savior of the night. “It was more important for the team to have some tequila and keep the spirits high than to fear death,” Graham remarked.
The next morning, our situation overshadowed our ability to enjoy the unique place we were in. “Although it was an insane spot, we didn’t maximize the place. We were more focused on how Matt would kite back with his injuries,” Graham continued.
We packed up and headed back. Matt kited using his elbow and one hand the whole way, which was super commendable. “It was a mission, no one drank water, no one’s eaten properly. But we’re fucking going home,” Ozzy added.
“It was a mission, no one drank water, no one’s eaten properly. But we’re fucking going home.”
– Oswald Smith
The way back was tinged with a mix of awe for the marine life and unease due to poachers. Spotting a boat of fishermen, we attempted a friendly gesture, but their body language sent a clear message of our outsider status. We continued on our way.
As we neared mainland, Ozzy came across a baby turtle stuck in a fishing net, and not far from it, a massive 200kg turtle in the same plight. Driven by a surge of emotion, Ozzy attempted a rescue still in his kiting gear. “I was hacking at the net with a knife, but my hand got caught, and the knife was lost,” he recounted. Despite the team’s collective efforts, the situation seemed increasingly dangerous, especially with the fishing nets there to catch sharks.
“I remember just kiting away and crying my eyes out. Just that moment of knowing it doesn’t matter how hard you try, it’s not enough.”
In a turn of events, Tiaan and Donovan, who were waiting for us at Base Camp, drove back, swam out, and freed the turtles.
When we got back to Base Camp, Camille asked where the water was. “Because we’d been busy doing the Turtle mission, we didn’t even think about water. They all had a beer in their hands. I was like ok, that works too,” Camille said with a smile.
Lessons from the Wild
Relying heavily on our gear was crucial for this journey. Graham explained, “You need to be able to trust your gear and know that it’s not going to fail you because the consequences of failing are much higher. Especially when you’re putting expensive camera equipment in a water bag and just hoping it survives the trip.”
Looking back at it, the ability to navigate with just a kite and a backpack, reaching spots inaccessible by boat or too remote, was a highlight for all of us. We could get to these areas and experience them right from the water’s edge.
Returning to Namib was weird and welcome at the same time. Things like paved roads and water coming out of the tap. It took us a couple days to come back from this trip, and get back in touch with reality.
“In our day-to-day life we are so lucky and so fortunate. Everything is so easy. This trip gave me a lot more gratitude for what I have,” said Graham.
“This trip,” Ozzy added, “was just evident that when things go bad, when life gets hard, that’s where people grow the most. That’s where people connect the most. That’s where you look outside of yourself and help the person next to you. It’s just where the magic happens.”
Matt broke two carpal bones and doctors suspect he might have torn his ACL. He’s been doing conservative treatment but plans to get his knee fixed later this year, which should put him on track for a full recovery. He’s smiling nonetheless, more than happy with how the trip went. Besides a couple of hiccups, the trip happened exactly as he had envisioned.
