27 February to 6 March 2023

We leave Tsavo East at Sala gate, but not before stopping to pump up the tyres as it’s now tar all the way to Malindi. We get out the compressor and the Indeflate gauge (which allows you to do two tyres at once and balance the pressure exactly across both at the same time). It’s a really clever piece of kit and we say thanks to Deb’s brother-in-law Nigel yet again – he’s a black-belt online shopper and we have a host of nifty gadgets that he’s given us over the years – I’ll have to do a gear review at some point!

A note to my millions of loyal subscribers: Thank you for following along so far, and apologies for the hiatus. The blog kind of got away from me on the road, and the longer you leave it the harder it is to pick it up again. But am freshly inspired to carry on with it. Watch this space.

It’s great to get a bit of speed up on the smooth tar. The road passes through a scrubby landscape – gently undulating as if we are driving through an underlying dune-scape of sorts.  We see many herders driving herds of cattle in long trains across the road – presumably driving their cattle to and fro to waterpoints along the Galana river. The cattle are skeletal. It’s hard to watch.

Am looking forward to coast and some respite from all the dust as well as a chance to change things up a bit – even though I know we are going to have to do some work. Both Deb and I have work projects peaking now that need our attention. It’s a tricky balance this working on the road, but there is no point in getting grumpy. I mean how lucky are we – that we get to do this, to make it work. So I tell myself to suck it up – it’s paying for the trip.

So on we head, dropping down to Malindi

Malindi, Malindi…it’s become a bit of a buzzword in our household for somewhere far-flung and exotic. I’ve wanted to visit ever since I saw Charles Dance, in all his glory, emerging out of the sea at Malindi, playing Josslyn Hay, the 22^nd Earl of Erroll in the movie White Mischief.

In fact our mad cap dash to the Serengeti in 2016 started out in planning as a trip “to Malindi for Christmas”- until I actually looked at a map and saw how far it was.  Whenever we are thinking of destination for a short trip or weekend away and Deb complains it’s too far I tease her …. careful, else I’ll make you drive to Malindi. I won.

We don’t plan on staying in Malindi, having been put off by reports of it being crowded and built up with a big beach-boy scene – but I still want to drive through at least, so we ignore the GPS which, having set Watamu as our destination is determined to route us past the centre. In retrospect that is what we should have done as we get caught up in a traffic jam in town. It’s chaotic, and noisy with hooters blaring and tuk tuks and motorbikes and traders and hawkers all vying for your attention. And boiling hot. We try and wiggle our way down to the beach but just end up digging further in to the gridlock, so it’s a while down the road south before we actually get to see the coast and the sea.

Watamu is essentially a resort town, with a pretty bay on one side and Mida Creek (mangroves, mudflats) on the other. It’s a mix of resorts of various grades as well as some lovely private holiday homes. Camping options are limited and anyway given that we will need to do some work and also in the hope of some aircon (it’s very hot and the humidity is bonkers) we go the self-catering route and end up at Watamu Beach Cottages. It’s a sprawled out complex with a range of varied self-catering cottages and houses, with a central pool and restaurant. It also has direct beach access.   They have a 2 sleeper unit available, own bathroom, aircon and then sharing an outside kitchen with another 2 sleeper unit. It’s perfect.

Our time in Watamu is spent doing a bit of work, swimming in the early morning and late afternoon. The beach is great with good swimming. The water is warm but quickly gets deep enough and cool enough to be refreshing. Sand is bright white and very fine, without the usual irritating beach sand stickiness. There are loads of restaurants and we try out a few: Ocean Sports overlooking the sea. Fabulous green masala prawns at Pilipan Restaurant overlooking the creek. One could get used to this.

Watamu is a favourite among Italian tourists and it seems that many have retired here and live here permanently. The range of foodstuffs and the excellent supermarkets and shops here reflect that. We  do a good stock with some treats: beautiful imported ham, jars of clams, a couple of bottles of Italian wine, some fabulous Kenyan beef sirloin and Cumberland sausages from the Well Hung Butcher. Oh, and also a big bag of mangoes and some fantastic limes from the traders outside. Throughout this though you have to battle the other shoppers: small gangs of (mainly Italian) women of a certain age, skin tanned a dark leathery brown, pushing in front, hogging the aisles . They are a maddening hazard! But at least I am tall so I can reach over them to grab what I want.

After 4 nights in Watamu its time to head out, continuing south down the coast to Mombasa. It’s an easy drive bar some roadworks, and with all the palm trees and blue sea views it gives you a real holiday feeling.  We pass though Kilifi and over the bridge across the creek. Past all the trader stalls selling carvings and baskets.

As we approach Mombasa the traffic builds, as does the density of developments and resorts, eventually becoming a continuous development all along the cost. Deb is driving and I read all the signs off to our left, pointing to resorts along the coast. And then I see the sign to Serena Beach Hotel and a flood of memories come back. It’s 1977 I think – we are on a family holiday, a treat to take edge off our move from Zambia to South Africa. I must have been 10 or 11 years old, my sister Sara 14 or so. Fresh out of the cold of our UK boarding schools, headed for Johannesburg. We thought it all wildly exotic. The Serena Beach stay was an all in package deal, except you had to pay for poolside drinks. Sara and I didn’t know this when we discovered the orange juice: freshly squeezed, it came in a tall glass decorated with a hibiscus flower. The height of sophistication. Sara and I ordered these by the dozen. About half way through the holiday Dad was presented with the drinks bill. Did we get a bollocking!

I didn’t realise at the time that this hotel was basically in the city – but maybe it wasn’t then, and things have just grown up around it. I can’t believe it’s nearly 50 years ago.

So, Mombasa here we are. I had wanted to stay somewhere in the Old Town for atmosphere but couldn’t find a reasonably priced hotel that looked OK.  I was also advised that secure parking would most likely be an issue and that we’d probably be better off staying somewhere more suburban, possibly in and around Nyali and then getting taxis to visit the Old Town, Fort Jesus etc.

That advice in mind and Web searches done, our lodgings for tonight is with the City Blue Creekside Hotel.  It’s big, and part of a chain, but keenly priced with a great view over the creek and onto the Old Town island.  

In the early evening we sit on our little balcony for sundowners and listen to the call(s) to prayer. Then, as if by magic and out of nowhere come hundreds of bats. Flying towards us and over the old city – they are really big. Fruit bats I assume – off on their nightly feed.

We also sit there in the mornings too, enjoying a first cup of coffee and watching the dhows and fishermen with their hand thrown nets. It’s a great spot.

Mombasa days are spent finishing up our work projects (bless the aircon) and exploring the Old Town. We take a tuk tuk in rather than try with the Cruiser – just as well, the streets are narrow and windy and I don’t know how we would have parked. We visit Fort Jesus and wander through the old town, all though the narrow alleys and markets.

We get a bit lost but no matter – people are friendly and point is in the right direction, ending up at Mackinnon Market. The food and spice section here is impressive – with cinnamon quills as long as your forearm.

Wandering the Old Town is great bit it’s very very hot. And the traffic is intense – all tuk tuks and minibus taxis in the most vibrant and colourful livery. All bespoke and custom done – I wish we’d taken some photos…(this was our first big Kenyan city and I assumed this was the norm but we never saw them like this again). Many of the paint jobs are movie themed and I have a sharp recollection of trying to cross Moi avenue and chickening out, getting stuck in the middle of the road  until a Captain Phillips themed tuk tuk squeals to a sharp stop – letting me cross – witheringly stared down by Tom Hanks.

Talking of Moi avenue I am determined to get a pic of Shackleton driving through the landmark tusks  arches. We chose a Sunday afternoon, hoping the traffic will be quieter – and so it is. I get Deb (long suffering as ever) to drive up and down Moi avenue, doing U turns so I can get various pics in all directions.

One evening we treat ourselves to dinner and cruise on the Tamarind dhow. The Tamarind restaurant is a Mombasa institution, and whilst it’s not the fine dining spot it might once have been, it is still a tourist highlight and destination restaurant for special celebrations for tourists and well-heeled locals alike. So, we get our glad rags out (I even put a frock on) and off we set.

Cruising the bay with our fellow diners: 3 local women celebrating a special birthday (table for 4 but Pippa was a no-show. Bad Pippa); an older couple taking their daughter out for a graduation celebration; a 60^th birthday; a work farewell – a long table of office workers saying goodbye to an expat returning to Europe. The atmosphere is celebratory and enormous fun. Basically you cruise around the bay and dinner is served. And there is live music – they are very good and all the old favourites come out. The soppier the better: Lionel Ritchie, Ed Sheeran (some in Swahili!), The Carpenters, Belafonte and Makeba, Fleetwood Mac, Whitney – lots of country music and everyone knows the words and sings along. And then the dancing starts and we all merrily bop along.

Maybe it’s the warm breeze, maybe it’s the fairy lights, maybe it’s the music, or the rocking of the boat, maybe it’s the dawas, but I find myself falling just that little bit more in love with our continent.

Time to leave Mombasa, but not before we’ve packed everything back into Shackleton. I can’t believe how much stuff has migrated into our room. Our clothes are packed in soft bags stored in the canopy section of the vehicle so in theory it is just those.  Except it doesn’t work that way. Living in the RTT and in an around the vehicle you get used to having everything within arm’s reach, you also get fussy about the stuff you want to use.  So we have our clothes bags, and then laptops for work. Then I need to print a more complicated piece of the report I’m working on so I can check and edit with a pen, so I go and get the small portable printer we carry and bring that up to the room. Along with the Sat phone cos it lives in the same bag and it’s probably safer here with us. Oh, and paper for the printer. The chairs on the balcony are really uncomfortable so we fetch our camping chairs and use those. And we don’t like the tea cups provided so I fetch our mugs. Along with a bottle of Scotch and the short glasses (god forbid we have to have a whisky in a tall glass). And the Stanley flask (which serves as an ice bucket). And we need to do some route planning so up comes the plastic travel box (this is a clear ammo box thingy that stores all the guide books and paper maps), And then we have a fruit and veg box that usually sits on the backseat (it gets less joggled around there than in the canopy), but it’s too hot in the parked vehicle so that comes up too. The list goes on…

Finally we are packed and ready to leave Mombasa and Deb holds out her hand for the car keys. I am driving us out of the city she announces, because I am a much better driver in African cities than you.  Ha! There you have it.

NOTES FOR TRAVELLERS

• Watamu
• https://watamubeachcottages.com/
• Range of accommodation, with some large houses for bigger parties.
• There is a designated camping area and its v nice BUT it is very small, so if its just you great otherwise crowded
• We paid $55 per night for the 2 sleeper self-catering unit (for the unit)
• Lots of restaurants in Watamu – all listed on various socials and google. We went to Pilipan and Ocean Sports
• Good supermarkets esp. Blue Marmalade supermarket and Food of Italy

• Mombasa
• https://www.citybluehotels.com/
• Definitely worth getting a room with a balcony facing out onto the creek – only a few $ more than the courtyard facing ones.  We paid $52 per night for a large ensuite twin (for the room not pp) and we thought it was good value for city accommodation. Best to book directly online though the hotel for discounted rates
• Tuk Tuks are great. Standardised fares are posted up inside the cab.
• Tamarind dhow is expensive, touristy and tremendous fun. Phone ahead (they only sail if they have enough people) $65 pp (cruise, drinks, 3 course meal)
• We also enjoyed Forodhani restaurant in the old town  – good food and a cool(ish!) breeze off the water
• For shopping and stock ups we drove to the suburb of Nyali – big Carrefour there + mall with everything you could need