Just a snapshot of the wonderful things I got to do and see on my journey through Kenya – most of this was filmed from the dashboard with my iphone 4 – next time I’ll take a camera crew!
Diani
Stay Eat Do in Kenya
DIANI BEACH
TO DO: Try kitesurfing, surfing and stand up paddle boarding with H2O Extreme the only reputable water sports centre in Diani. Operated from the Kenyaways Kite Village, the instructors are very knowledgeable and have you up and going before you know it! I was SUPing from the first go, was standing on the surf board and riding waves shortly after starting…
Spend a day snorkeling or diving the reef at Wasini with Pilli Pipa Dhow Safaris. They lay on an incredible lunch at the end of the trip too!
TO STAY: Kenyaways Kite Village – a place that I have spent more hours than I can count. It’s relaxed and the perfect place to come and stay if you’re visiting Diani. It has its own piece of pristine beach front and the views are to die for. There is a great water sports centre operating from here called H2O Extreme.
If you’re looking for a more expensive and luxurious stay, get hold of Valentina at Water Lovers, a lovely small boutique resort in the heart of Diani; or Ida Andersson at Kinondo Kwetu, a gorgeous and exclusive retreat 10kms south of Diani. Kinondo Kwetu also offer horse riding on the beach and yoga overlooking the sea. All three of the above places won Trip Advisor Travellers Choice awards last year.
I also stayed at South Coast Backpackers when I arrived. If you’re on a budget, stay here. The pool is lovely and the bar is always open. The owners are three young French guys, Kevin, Justin and Louis, who know how to show their guests a good time. It’s full of backpackers, volunteers and other young travellers. Head here if you want some company and a bit of a party.
TO EAT: Get hold of Bruce at Madafoos at the Kenyaways Kite Village – great vibe, relaxed atmosphere and always filled with Diani’s usual suspects. They have fish BBQs on Friday nights and curry buffets on Sundays – not to be missed! For a more special evening, head to Sails (at Alamanara) – the chef Luke is one of Kenya’s finest and you dine under the most beautiful sails right on the beach. The food is under-priced for the quality of cuisine that is served up!
MOMBASA
TO STAY: I stayed at Mombasa Backpackers. If you’re looking for a party and great way to get meet travellers – head over here. Look out for Rasta Dave (came to the backpackers over a year ago to stay for a few days and never left) as well as Dan Sorrell, a crazy South African full of fun who spends most nights here too. Dave the owner is very helpful and will ensure that you have a good time…
LAKE NAIVASHA
TO STAY AND EAT: You can’t go wrong with Camp Carnelley’s. Set on the water’s edge, this beautiful array of little cottages as well as sweeping lawns for camping is the perfect spot to explore the water, Hells Gate and Crater Lake game park nearby. The restaurant, complete with a wood burning pizza oven, serves some of the most amazing food I’ve ever had! The owners Lovat and Chrissy Carnelley are warm and hospitable. Ask Lovat if you have car trouble – he’s a mechanic of sorts…
NAIROBI
TO STAY: I tried a few places in Nairobi but nothing compares to Wildebeest Eco Camp between Karen and the city. It’s secure, beautifully maintained and extremely reasonable (free wifi!). They have a range of options from tented dorm rooms (crisp linen included, couldn’t believe it!) to luxury permanent tents overlooking a lush garden. They also have a small area for camping. Can’t recommend this place enough! You can find out more about tours going out to the Masai Mara etc here too.
Sadly if you are planning on staying at Jungle Junction, just be aware that they had two armed robberies late 2013. You make the call… Karen Camp too is an absolute dive so don’t bother with that either!
MALINDI
TO STAY: We had a magical few days at Che Shale, near Malindi on the North Coast of Kenya. Owner run, this remote retreat is set in a coconut grove away from everything and everyone! The food is absolutely first class and you couldn’t ask for a more hospitable stay! The winds are good here, so kite surfing is popular. Che Shale has its own kite surfing centre.
GUIDED EXPEDITIONS ROUND KENYA
Tailor-made safaris with a focus – photography, cultural, kitesurfing, fishing, birding – you name it, these guys can make it happen. Contact Kenyan born Boris Polo at Expeditions East Africa, he knows more about the bush and coast than anyone! Drop my name, he may cut you a deal…
COMMUMNICATION
I used Safaricom, it’s the most widespread provider and is the provider most people use. Buy data bundles if you plan on using the 3G for browsing – you get about 10 times more out of it than using your regular top up money for data.
Diani Days, Kenya
Kenyan Coast
14th October – 14th November 2014
Che Shale, North Coast – Kenya
Following my little jaunt around Tanzania, I flew from Nairobi to Malindi to meet up with Boris for a short holiday on the North Coast. Boris had been on a week long fishing expedition with his good friend Justin Aniere and a client Eric d’Echallens, north off the Lamu archipelago. Justin’s family bought a stretch of land just north of Malindi in the 70s (I think) and have run Che Shale as a beach resort for many years. Set in a coconut grove, this awesome place is filled with island style charm. In short, it’s a little piece of paradise! Coconut trees plus Boris Polo’s reversing = hazard… just saying.
Grass Hut Accommodation
Beautiful Coconut Groves
Che Shale Lounge
After their week at sea, the boys arrived back bearded, tanned and smelling of fish. They’d had such a successful run and once boys catch good fish, you don’t hear the end of it. Check out their video here. We stayed in a little grass hut on the beach and had a completely relaxing 3 days in the company of Justin and his wonderful lady Isabelle. This is a great spot for kite surfing (which I still can’t do!) and so we surfed sans kite on the small waves coming into the bay. Andy Belcher and his family came up for the day – his daughter, Emily, is a PE teacher’s dream kid when it comes to all things water, and we couldn’t get her or Eric out the waves.
On our way back down south, we stopped in Malindi and Watamu, both cute coastal towns with a spice trade feel – the Arabic influence is strong here, with lots of Swahili architecture, and we popped into some fabric shops to purchase beautiful kikoys.
Diani, Kenya
Back in Diani, day to day life continued – reading on the veranda, swimming in the pool and sea, taking Pluto and Scooby for walks along the beach, spending time at Kenyaways for Friday BBQs and Sunday curries, seeing Reed for tea and meeting friends for lunch. Hard life…
Pool at Casa Polo
Pluto and Scooby on our Beach Walks
Favourite place to sit and read
I spent a couple of evenings down at the Tiwi River mouth, surfing with Boris, Bruce, Monique and Luke. I can hold my own on the small to medium size stuff now but can’t read the waves yet and need surf boss Boris to tell me when to start paddling. Bruce, I’m still better than you! Monique brought along a friend one day – a Zimbo from Shamba called Lesanne Dunlop. This resourceful young lady was backpacking round East Africa, making her way from resort to resort in exchange for taking fresh photos of their places for marketing purposes. Blady smart if you ask me! Chatted to Lesanne on the waves before I realised all of this. She was staying at Kenyaways and was photographing the place for Lindsay. We kept in touch with each other. [More to come regarding Lesanne joining me later on the trip for the Tanzania stretch]
Lunch with the Anderssons – always a pleasure!
Typical scene on any given day at Kenyaways
Wildlife Works Girls
Tea with Reed and Lesanne
Nomads Beachfront
Alex’s Party
Children’s Party Hats
Surfing Tiwi
Kenyaways Beach Life
Amongst other evenings at Kenyaways, Alex had a party which he had to be dragged along to – but at 4am, and after two bottles of whiskey between him and Boris, he wasn’t complaining.
Boris’ twin friends Max & Alex came down for a few days with their lovely girlfriends Janina and Ale, and two friends from the UK, who had just got engaged. We had a brilliant few days together, sundowners on Tiwi Beach (which, after one too many Jelzin vodka coconuts, sent Ale pole vaulting into the lagoon), sunsets with Ale and Alex on the jetty, octopus braais and nights out at 40 Thieves. Just so happened that my good old friend Luke Davey was in town round this time too and it was great catching up late into the night over one too many at 40s. Best comment of the week: Boris, “We’re having Dorado tonight for the BBQ”; Janina, “Who’s Dorado? I haven’t met him yet”.
The Van Wageningen crowd
Sundowners at Tiwi River Mouth
Ale and the Coconut Vodka
Jetty Acrobatics
Ale’s Favourite Place
BBQ Games
Dodson’s Wedding in Tsavo
Early November, Boris and I jumped in the truck, followed by Dan Floren and Jo-Jo, and off we went to Tsavo for Rob and Lore Dodson’s wedding. If you’ve ever wondered what a real bush wedding is like, then this is the prime example. Everyone in tents (ours in the baking sun, rookie error), a massive bar built especially for the occasion, pre-wedding party till 3am, riding flip flop lions, waking up with a hangover in a tent oven, red stained feet, food being cooked round the clock on outside braais, wedding attire with flip flops (nice shoes get ruined), wedding in the middle of the bush with rain falling – nobody cares, speeches that last way too long but nobody cares, post-wedding party till 4am (with a little sleep in between), miraa shots to see you through a few more hours, the green hat, everyone’s a friend after enough rum (enter the Wildlife Works girls) Cara, Joyce, Yugala & Christina, Danny the broom boy, Fleur and Andy bush party, hangover in tent oven, more food, chatting on rugs, pillows and hammocks with Lindsay, Dave, Andrew, Eddie, Sue, Mikey, Tash, Hugo, Andy, Fleur, Harm & Selina. And so the weekend drew to a close. Boris and I headed back to Diani via the beautiful Shimba Hills and were treated to a partial solar eclipse that afternoon.
Wasini Island, Kenya
My last excursion was spent down at Wasini for the day (Harm and Selina’s Pilli Pipa Dhow Safaris). From Shimoni we took a dhow out to the Wasini area where we spent the day snorkeling with GoPros. We got to see schools of dolphin and Boris was down in the water when a couple of them passed by! What a way to end my stay here on the Diani coast!
Someone needs to work on their tan…
Philli Pipa Dhow off to Wasini
Snorkeling Wasini – awesome!
So long Diani Friends!
Saying goodbye to the Diani crowd was a long and drawn out process. Everyone has brought something unique to my short life here on the coast and it’s only on leaving that I realised how much I had grown to love this place.
Ric, Vale, Sara & Sole – keep living the dream – you’ve done wonders with Water Lovers, it’s possible to continue this idillic life I know you can make it work, Ballito is calling, come and see for yourself!
The Waterlovers Family, Diani Beach Kenya
Filip & Ida – you’ll be pleased to hear I still do yoga as much as I can Ida (on my mat in the middle of nowhere!), best of luck with Kinondo Kwetu and Malaika Cotton. Pity I didn’t get to experience the rush of the skate park but please just watch Filip and Lova, worried they might be ramping over the roof soon.
Kinondo Kwetu Family, Diani Beach Kenya
Lindsay & Dave – keep Kenyaways going strong! Exciting times ahead with the expectant Irish water baby in a few months. You’ll be back on the waves sooner than you think Linz!
Last Night Out with Reed, Lindsay and Dave
Reed & Monique – will miss our chats, you’re both such awesome girls and I’ve loved getting to know you better! Follow your dreams (whatever they may be and wherever they take you!) Keep Diani tidy and in check for us please – it needs a sensible few to keep that crowd in line.
Monique and Reed, Madafoos Diani Beach
Danny – my first Diani friend, did you kick my dog? Enjoy life out in the Shimbas – couldn’t ask for a more beautiful spot to raise your new livestock family!
Anina, Claudia & Gabriele – lovely meeting you ladies and best of luck with the businesses – may tourism in Diani continue to thrive!!
Alex & Petra – good luck with the safaris and the little bush baby, no more whiskey benders for a while now Alex…
Brucey Baby – cheer up bugger and stop stressing, may Madafoos continue to thrive in the company of tourists and Diani’s finest people. Surf more, kite more and when in need of a cuddle, Boris will always be there.
Bruce and Boris, Kenyaways Diani Beach Kenya
Chief – from Mombasa parties, helping me get expedition ready, Naivasha festivals, days up on the Shimba ridge and sunsets at Tiwi – it’s been a memorable few months to say the least. I don’t know what I would have done without your kindness and generosity after the crash. Thanks for opening your beautiful home to me and for allowing me to share Pluto and Scooby as pets for a few months. Wishing you windy and wavey seas, continued flip flop fetishes and a steady stream of tourists hungry for adventure – so much to look forward to!
Saying goodbye to my paradise beach
The Beast is ready. It’s time to set the compass south and leave my home of three months.
Onwards and downwards!
Rift Valley Festival and Beach Life – Naivasha and Diani, Kenya
NAIVASHA, KENYA
28th Aug – 2nd Sep 2013
Rift Valley Festival, Lake Naivasha
From my previous stay in Naivasha, I had heard about the Rift Valley Festival, happening just after I was due to fly back from Uganda. I had been in touch with my friend Boris from Diani as he was headed up from Diani to Naivasha see our old pals at Carnelley’s. We sorted out diaries and worked things out so that I would arrive in Nairobi as he was passing through and we’d go together. I’d waved goodbye to Boris a month previously after staying with him whilst getting the Beast sorted out and so it was super to see him again! We popped into the Karen Hospital to get my bloods taken, and to have an x-ray on my neck. Since the accident, my neck had got progressively more stiff, and I don’t think it helped I engaged in a spot of light white water rafting in Jinja shortly thereafter… Anyhow, the bloods were fine and my x-rays revealed nothing of substantial concern. I was sentenced to a few sessions of physio and traction (think William Wallace on the torture bed, neck shackled, feet shackled, being pulled in different directions…)
Rift Valley Festival, Lake Naivasha
The Rift Valley Festival in Naivasha draws musicians and bands from all over Africa. It’s held at Fisherman’s Camp, next to Carnelley’s and is right on the water’s edge. Set up with a camping area, tented food stalls and full on stage, it draws Kenyans from all walks of life and it was great to see everyone living it up in such a fantastic setting. With music pumping late into the night, the Naivasha gang gathered on the steps of the bar each night to get a good view – Chrissy, Lovat, Mwezi, Karen, Mikey, Johnny, Marcus, Paddy, Andy & Fleur. This crowd love a good party and boy did they shake a leg! Most of them didn’t sleep for two days and partied straight through. Me, being the sensible type, partied hard but made sure I got my much needed beauty sleep… On the second night, Andrew Doig got hold of me, Lovat and Boris, and took us out onto the lake with his small boat just before sundown. Crate packed high with beers, we set off for a good three or four hours, careful not to knock hippos on the head with the propeller (in the dark of night, this is a very real possibility), we were all on lookout. Under the influence of a little bit of booze, we tried to sneak up as close as we could to the shore on various properties but were only chased by guards wielding guns – not the wisest idea of our times… On our way back, we docked for a short time off the shore of Fisherman’s Camp to watch the festival from the water. We joined everyone a short while later and had another fantastic night. Boris’ friends from Diani, Riccardo, Valentina and their girls Sole and Sara were in Naivasha for the weekend and so we took them to Crater Lake to have lunch on a floating restaurant. The girls were fascinated by the wildlife in the area, which are in abundance and tend to cruise around without a care in the world. Boris and I left Naivasha after a rain soaked festival experience, and headed back to Nairobi for the night at Wildebeest Eco Camp before running the Nairobi-Mombasa road gauntlet…
DIANI BEACH, KENYA
3rd – 20th Sep 2013
Kenyaways Kite Village, Diani Beach Kenya
I spent the next two and a half weeks living the life in Diani. Boris’ house is right on the beach and is just a little piece of paradise. He lives by himself on a large property with villas for his brother and father, and a guest cottage at the back. There’s a beautiful garden with a swimming pool just before the fence and then you’re on the beach. His place is just south along the beach from his Kite Surfing School at Kenyaways. The awesome little boutique resort, Kenyaways, is run by Lindsay and good friend Bruce runs the restaurant Madafoos. It’s where I spent many hours chewing the fat with all the wonderful people I got to know!
Reed and her catch of the day – a delicious dorado
Travellers and residents alike, this is where the fantastic little community of Diani comes together! Most of our lives revolved around Galu Beach, the beach adjacent to Diani where Kenyaways is situated. I spend my days going out on ingalawas with the surfing crowd – Boris, Bruce, Pepe, Lindsay, Wes and Olive – and taking Boris’ dogs, Pluto and Scooby for long walks on the beach. There is a fantastic German lady called Maria who does reflexology once a week and I found myself on her table more than once – I attribute the rapid recovery of my neck to her, hands down! One day my friend Reed called us up and asked us if we wanted to go deep sea fishing with her (this is just typical of the life these people lead in Diani…), so Olive, Wes and I hopped on board and we sailed the big blue trawling for dorado for most of the morning. Just love this lifestyle!
Ingalawa Reef Surfing, Diani Beach Kenya
Self-Proclaimed Chief of Diani Village, Boris Polo
Sands at Nomads, Diani Beach Kenya
Most of Boris’ friends are resort owners or run their own businesses in the area so there was always someone up for a spot of lunch or dinner, and I got to see the most incredible resorts along the Diani strip.
Sails at Almanara, Diani Beach Kenya
Most notably, my favourite restaurant was Sails at Almanara which serves amazing food by chef Luke Doig, for the most the most ridiculously reasonable prices. Ric and Valentina, from Italy, own Water Lovers, a spot that they built over 5 years ago. It’s gorgeous and has so much charm. Filip and Ida, from Sweden, are the owners of the sprawling Kinondo Kwetu in the South and have had the King and Queen of Sweden to stay! They have riding stables and take the horses out on moonlight rides once a month. Filip has had a skate park built at the back of their new home and was kind enough to take us all out to Funzi on his boat, so that the boys could surf and SUP. Kinondo Kwetu Trust Fund are also heading up quite a few community projects and under their trading label Mailaka Cotton. I spent many a morning twisted like a pretzel at their yoga classes with Ida and Lindsay on the cliffs overlooking the sea. Claudia and Richard run Nomads, a larger resort on the Diani stretch which also has an adjoining school – this is where all the kids of these friends go. Mark owns the microlight business and twice, when I was supposed to join him in the air, it rained buckets and the opportunity to see Diani by air was cancelled… Anina runs the local art gallery and Dan runs a farm up in the Shimbas. Everyone is a piece of this multinational and brilliant little resort town – and I love it! …and when friends from Cape Town and up-country grace us with their presence… there’s no other place to go but 40 Thieves for a BIG sweaty party…
Forty Thieves, Diani Beach Kenya
Route Mombasa to Nairobi, Kenya
Mombasa (blue) to Diani Beach (red) – 23 miles (1 hour due to Likoni Ferry) – see post here
Diani Beach to Tsavo East (green) – 144 miles (5 hours through the Shimba Hills) – see post here
Tsavo East to Tsavo West (yellow) – 83 miles (4 hours pole pole game drive) – see post here
Tsavo West to Amboseli (purple) – 82 miles (5 hours – horrendous road!) – see post here
Amboseli to Nairobi (blue) – 141 miles (5ish hours – horrible road to tar, dangerous road thereafter!) – see post here
Broken Buckets and the Joy of Coincidental Reunions – Shimbas and Tsavo, Kenya
SHIMBA HILLS TO TSAVO EAST, KENYA
1st August 2013
Check out more photos on Facebook here.
After stocking up with last minute snacks and food at Nakumatt for my 4-5 day game drive, I headed down the long sultry coast road of Diani. Past the ladders above the road for the Colobus monkeys, the dreaded unannounced speed bumps, Shakatack and the sign down to Forty Thieves – how does one grow to love a place so much after such a short stay?
The earth up at Shimba Hills is a stunning red colour and the forest feels like it’s on top of you at times. It’s just spectacular. Rolling along the red track, taking in the views as the road winds it’s way through the hills and villages, past some farmers fields and livestock along the way then CRACK… I nearly jumped out of my frikkin skin! It sounded like lightning, but the windscreen was suddenly covered in water (like he heavens had opened up, but just over my car, in one truckload of water). I realised my 50l shower bucket on top of the roof rack had come loose, fallen forward onto the windscreen and smashed. I’m so fortunate the steel tap didn’t shatter or even crack the windscreen (this Beast is a toughie).
My home-made shower kicked the bucket – Shimba Hills
I stopped the Beast and got out to check the damage… my shower had most definitely kicked the bucket… At this point, a truckload of locals pulls up over the horizon from behind. The driver starts shouting at me with his hands in the air, annoyed at having a vehicle in his path. I pointed slowly to my broken bucket, gave him sad eyes, and toed the area where the water had soaked into the earth (there was a full on river!). The driver’s tune changed when he saw my misfortune, and pitiful cries of “pole” were heard from the traveling onlookers as the truck rolled slowly by.
“Pole pole” is the Swahili word used for “slow”, but at this moment in time I realised that “pole” (in singular form) must be the term used for “ag shame”.
The drive through the Shimba Hills was magnificent, it’s so lush and beautiful. I carried on through a couple of small villages, waved at the passers by, old men on bikes, children walking along in groups, herdsman… but no one waved back. Then it dawned on me that my side windows were tinted and that they couldn’t see my enthusiastic greeting. I made a mental note to wave from the windscreen area in future.
Villages on the way to Tsavo
I turned left at the end of the dirt road and made my way up onto the Mombasa-Nairboi road (the section on driving this road just about needs an entire post for itself). The driving in Kenya (as mentioned previously) is pretty horrendous and this road, in particular, serves as the only route for ALL import and export for the whole of East Africa. The railway line for cargo is just about non-existent so everything arrives and leaves by truck – every single goddamn container-baring one of them, heading up and down this road…
Driving this road takes nerves of steel, eyes in the back of your head, timing, advanced driving skills and a massive helping of pure luck. It really is a matter of leap frogging your way around the caravan of trucks, with each overtaking opportunity resembling something like this…
- drive at 50km/h (with nothing in your windscreen but truck)
- ear on the side window for an additional 4cm viewing range, pull out slightly to the right to check the road ahead, pull back sharply to the left as oncoming trucks approach,
- repeat x20,
- ear on the side window for an additional 4cm viewing range, pull out slightly to the right to check the road ahead, see a 100m strip of clear tarmac ahead,
- check wing mirror and blind spot just in case you missed a sneaky matatu (taxi) and to ensure you’re not being overtaken from five cars behind,
- foot flat and turbo boost to 100km/h,
- eyes wide, heart pounding as truck bares down lights flashing (even though a reasonable distance away),
- hard left quickly back into the 7m gap left between the next two trucks,
- rapid deceleration to 50km/h again (with nothing in your windscreen but truck)
- continue to repeat the process whilst witnessing the most horrendous driving in your life; trucks overtaking cars, the slow overtaking the even slower, the fast overtaking anything and everything… on blind rises, over solid lines, on the dirt next to the road, five cars in a row past seven trucks in a row – I could go on and on.
Talk about a crash course (!!) in East African driving…
I turned off the road at Buchuma Gate at the southern point of Tsavo East. A buffalo skull welcomed me at the gate and the lady behind the counter took some time to absorb the fact that I was indeed on my own and wasn’t hiding a small companion in my cruiser. Maybe they get lots of cheapskates trying to get into the parks for free (which isn’t without just cause at $65-$80 per person per day).
I have had this many times over since… “You alone?”, I look over my shoulder, ensure there really isn’t someone I’ve forgotten, and shrug, “I guess so”.
Dry and parched landscape of Tsavo East
I drove up the hot and dusty track towards Aruba Dam with not much game on the way. I did spot some elephant in the distance and, as you tend to do when on your first game drive after a leave of absence, shot around 20 photos of the reddy grey lumps in the distance. Aruba Dam was dry which was a bit of a disappointment as the guide book had really bigged it up. I took a smaller road down next to a river and saw more elephant, a little closer this time (cue another 30 snaps of distant reddy grey lumps). The sun was hanging low in the sky so I pressed on to the public campsite for my first real night of camping. Stoked to finally have the opportunity to camp out in the bush with no one about (I didn’t pass a single car the whole day!), I drove into the almost desolate (but for one other bakkie) campsite. I was leaning, elbow out my window, reading the do’s and don’ts on a signboard when from the bush I heard my name being yelled. Could this be the sad deluded voice of loneliness calling me in my head? I turned to where I thought the voice had come from, lifted my sunnies and squinted to get a better look. Running towards my car is none other than Dan Sorrell (my fellow Saffa and total trouble maker from Mombasa Backpackers)!
Sundowners with friends in Tsavo East
TTC 5: I had no idea Dan was planning on coming to Tsavo, he had no idea I was either. We had said our tearful goodbyes days earlier in Mombasa… I was there for one night and one night only, and we were the only two cars in the campsite.
Dan was camping with Ivan, Anneloes and Fay so I came over and set up camp near them. We had sundowners in a dry river bed accompanied by a guide who Ivan chatted away to happily in Swahili. Watching the sun dip below the horizon whilst sipping on Patron – what a way to end the day! We had a braai in the presence of the Captain until the early hours of the morning. Awesome first night! If only I could have a chance bumping into of friends every night on my travels, I’d be so chuffed!
Partying in Mombasa and Retreating to Diani, Kenya
[19 August] Things have a funny way of working out… and this whole journey so far has been about a collection of coincidences and events where I almost didn’t, but then did… and ended up meeting awesome people, getting to know their friends, and experiencing the unexpected kindness of strangers.
You’ll have to read the next few entries to see just how these little changes affected a potentially disastrous outcome. Follow the treasure trail of coincidences over the next few posts to see how lucky I ended up.
MOMBASA, KENYA
26th – 30th July 2013
So, with cash flying out my wallet at an insane rate (due to unexpected customs, parting with cash and port charges), I decide to move to a backpackers. Searching online I find a nice looking place nearby called Nirvana Backpackers (sounds tranquil enough) and enquired online. I also check the Lonely Planet which alternatively and rather cheerfully suggested Mombasa Backpackers…
Mombasa Backpackers
“If you thought backpacker hostels had to be cramped and grimy places be prepared for a surprise. This is a huge white mansion surrounded by lush, coconut gardens (with camping areas). The spacious rooms and dorms are well maintained and there’s a decent swimming pool. Note that there have been some muggings in the vicinity of the hostel.”
[Lonely Planet East Africa July 2012]
Muggings in the area? Hey ho, that’s standard in Kenyan cities right? So I gave the owner David a call and he had space in a single room. Got back from the port office that afternoon and hadn’t heard from Nirvana so taxied over to Mombasa Backpackers and wandered into the reception area, laden with bags (still bearing my folding shovel, step stool, four large unnecessarily weighty padlocks). As always, when arriving at a new backpacking joint, I tend to do a quick recce and mentally assess the situation. Everyone always looks like they belong, morphed into the lounging chairs, sipping beers at the bar, wandering around barefoot, and you’re the spare kid who’s just arrived, with no friends, looking like you might need to be picked for one of the many gangs gathered in various hot spots… feeders at the dinner table, actives at the table tennis table, readers on the cushions, peace corps world changers in circles on the lawn, loungers lazing pool side or Chinese-eyes in stoner’s corner near the bottom of the garden.
Anyone for 90% DEET?
Liz showed me to my single room. She unlocked the door and as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light I saw a horde of disturbed mozzies rise up from the darkness. Liz made a swift exit back to her post behind the reception desk / bar, leaving me to wonder what the hell I had gotten myself into. David is going to kill me for this, but the room is below par on all standards. The mattress was stained, the painted walls bubbling and peeling, the hole in the wall with mesh (window?) had some heavy material nailed across it. Judging by the dust settled on the curtain creases, it hadn’t been cleaned or moved for months, the top section between the door and ceiling was missing, and the room itself was as big as a postage stamp. The bathroom next door was covered in muddy footprints, the shower curtain was missing and the plumping had seen better days decades ago. The mozzie net, patched up in places with material plasters, was insufficient and didn’t quite stretch over all corners of the bed and so hung low leaving very little space in the middle for a person.
Not ideal when you’re tired and dirty…
Something I hadn’t considered was the lack of bedding… my sleeping bag (as you may recall from the customs strip search) was folded away in my roof tent in the container. So, out came the sarong placed over the sheets, and over me, two towels beneath which I curled. I read for a bit before trying to get some shut eye, but sleep came in fits and starts due to the missing section of wall above the door. I woke every time someone slip-slopped their way down the corridor or slammed the bathroom door, then at some ungodly hour the backpackers started playing beer pong on the table outside and I was subjected to a running commentary, laughter and shrieks as the games came down to the wire. I later found out who to blame for this… Dan Sorrell.
I woke early and headed back to port for the day with Paul from Multiple Solutions. Being a Saturday, there wasn’t much to be done and so I was back by midday. Having decided there was no way I was spending another night at this backpackers, I sat outside and tried to get onto the elusive wifi (we had been given the password to hack into the wifi from a neighbouring resort and the only one bar ‘hot spot’ was on the driveway).
Whilst searching for alternative accommodation options for that night, and just about to tall a taxi, who should walk out of the backpackers front door but Boris frikkin Polo. He and Bruce Cattermole were up from Diani for the weekend for a friend’s party. I had met Boris and Bruce amongst other local wazungus (cue Dan “Swindian” Floren) at Forty Thieves (where else?) in Diani the week before.
After a few cold Tuskers at the in the bar it didn’t take much persuasion to stay at the backpackers, and as Boris and Bruce knew David the owner, it didn’t take much more to sort out a sweet upgraded room to myself outside the main house – mozi net intact, freshly painted walls and a shower with a shower curtain – amazing!
Bruce and Boris
Boris and Bruce invited me to join them and so off I went, to the birthday bash of people I didn’t know. Now, partying with wazungu Kenyans is an event only attempted by the audacious. Thought I’d had plenty practise leading up to my London departure but these guys take things to a new level. The party was hosted by Mike K at his stunning home in Nyali. Complete with fairy lights along the drive, open entertainment area, free bar, poolside buffet and headgear theme, it rendered itself open to a bender of note. It wasn’t long before I was being introduced to high society Mombasa and up-country locals alike; the uncle of this one, second husband of so-and-so, and the cousin of that. I did my best to keep up but the dawas (Swahili for muti/medicine – a lovely concoction of vodka, sugar and lime) were slowly working their way through my bloodstream and, like with all parties with free booze, things started getting a little hazy.
Mombasa Party – everyone ended up in the pool
Mikey Diesbecq hopped behind the bar to give the overworked barman a hand, and things started going off-piste something chronic. We had a great night, saw too many shenanigans and decided to leave at 4am once people started getting thrown into the pool. We got back to the backpackers to find Rasta Dave and a few other guys in a similar state on the foosball table. Too much excitement for one night, I turned in. Two hours later I get a knock on my door, it’s Bruce looking to come cuddle. Too funny, we had a little chat and I gave him a high five through my mozi net before sending him packing.
Beer pong – a favourite past time at Mombasa Backpackers
I awoke just after 9am and hand on head, walked into the bar area to purchase some much needed H2O, only to find Bruce with a Tusker in hand and blood shot eyes… still awake, still drinking. Worst still was the shriek that came from the bar. On swift investigation I found a young brunette on the bar stool doubled over with laughter and a pretty blond girl, beer in one hand and needle in the next, piercing a bearded guy’s left ear. I repeat, it’s 9am in the morning… Enter Emily, Izzie and Dan Sorrell. They hadn’t gone to bed either and were still hammered… Anyhow, long story short, Dan ended up sporting a new surfboard earring and we all went to the beach for the day where they continued to drink and soak up the sun. Sea urchins in feet and unsuccessful attempts at trying to persuade the local beach hotels to sell Dan bottles of rum saw us through to the afternoon. The young bloods continued their drinking marathon into the night with rounds of beer pong on the table tennis table. The following day I found Dan asleep on the concrete floor underneath the wicker sofa.
Mombasa Backpackers Crowd
The Diani crowd departed taking Izzie and Emily with them, and leaving me to fend for myself fighting the customs officials in port.
DIANI, KENYA
30th – 31st July 2013
Kenyaways Kite Village, Diani Beach
Tuesday came around and once I got the Land Cruiser out of the container I headed back to Mombasa to get a few things (before heading off to the parks for a week). Once in Mombasa I realised that it would be foolish to put foot flat and race up to Tsavo and so I decided to drive back to Diani and sort some kit out. I arrived at Kenyaways Kite Village where Boris has his H2O Kitesurfing school and called him and Bruce to tell them I was there – Izzie and Emily were on the loungers and we all ended up having great chow at Bruce’s Madafoos Beach Bistro.
Pluto and Scooby, my new fury friends
I stayed with Boris over the next few days. He has the most incredible spot on the beach down the coast – a little slice of heaven. Although Boris won’t admit it, I do think his dogs, Pluto, a Rhodesian Ridgeback, and Scooby, a big-boned “shhh don’t hurt her feelings”, Jack Russell started to love me more than him, and so I had to go before it became to obvious that his pets had switched allegiance.
I got all the recovery gear onto a bag and taupe on the roof and cargo netted it all down. Final placing of goods in their rightful boxes and the raiding of Nakumatt for the stocking of fridge perishables and Captain Morgan was high on the list of priorities. Boris was a complete legend and kindly donated two pairs of Havaiana flip flops, the largest sticker ever displayed for the back window of my LC, and an awesome black 50l bucket which he ratcheted to the roof for showers after those hot and dusty days!
Boris’ home-made shower of the roof rack – lasted about an hour before coming off
I met a great friend and business partner of Boris’ at lunch called Alex, and raided Boris’ contacts for useful people, campsites and places for the journey ahead; including names and numbers for Lovat and Chrissy Carnelley, and Mikey Diesbecq (party barman) who both live in Naivasha; “These guys will take you in”, he assured me.
Another thing Boris gave me good advice on, was the flamingo situation. I had planned on going to Lake Nakuru to see flamingos but with the rising water levels, the salinity in the water is diluted, resulting in a reduced availability of algae and so the birds have flown to other smaller lakes to source this. Due to the lack of flamingos, Boris persuaded me not to go to Nakuru but to go to Naivasha instead to see his friends and said I should try the small lake next to Naivasha for flamingos.
And so, on Thursday 1st August, headed for Tsavo, I waved goodbye to Boris and the dogs and headed off into the Shimba Hills and beyond.
My drive had begun!
Expedition is GO – Boris’ House, Diani
TTC 1: How I know Boris and Bruce is by pure chance… My last night at South Coast Backpackers (Diani) I wasn’t going out at all and was in my pyjamas. But as the taxis arrived to take my Irish friends down the road to 40 Thieves, I had a sudden surge of FOMO, changed quickly and went with them. I met Boris & Bruce that night through Dan Floren who I’d met the night before.
TTC 2: Nirvana Backpackers didn’t get back to me so ended up at Mombasa Backpackers, my second choice.
TTC 3: Minutes away from leaving Mombasa Backpackers and booking another place to stay, Boris and Bruce appear at the backpackers I wasn’t supposed to be at in the first place.
TTC 4: Boris persuades me to go to make last minute changes to go to Naivasha instead of Nakuru.
Africa Bound and Diani Beach, Kenya
Unfortunately for those keen to follow this trip, I don’t write very well and have no copywriter to help make my entries more embellished or intelligible. I will struggle to keep up with my fellow trans African bloggers who so effortlessly weave wit and humour into their notes. There is no magic instagram filter to enhance my ramblings, so you will have to put up with undisguised and ordinary accounts of daily life on the road.
Packing my bag for the final time a few days before leaving (I had packed it many times over in the months leading up to this moment), I realised I had completely misjudged the situation. Undoing the stacks of neatly folded items, I found (amongst other completely unsuitable garments) a skin hugging heavy long sleeved top and a woolly beanie! I had packed this bag in April when the temperatures were only just nibbling at 15 degrees or so. It was a stiflingly humid and sticky night in London, not dissimilar to a typical night in Africa, so I used the heat simulation situation to try to salvage my packing debacle fast! Frantically, I started trying on each piece… Like a Primark changing room on payday, I soon found myself with a heap of unsuitable clothing at my feet.
Atop the folding shovel, collapsible step stool, four large padlocks and 180 malaria tablets (all the important items that didn’t make it into the Beast in time), I started repacking more suitable African attire. My tiny expedition bag weighed a ton.
Whisked to the airport by Lizzy, I said my goodbyes and proceeded with the usual process of checking in and boarding. Following a 6 hour stopover in Frankfurt, I boarded Condor air, forecast by Gemma as the type of low cost flight that would lend itself to non-reclinable seats, no food and certainly no individual seat-back screens. Fearful that I should miss a meal (and not wanting to mission about sorting myself out for food), I had booked and paid and additional 15 euro for a special meal, and eagerly awaited my treat.
As a solo traveler with a seat next to me, my unelected neighbour for the duration of the flight was an elderly gentleman by the name of Klaus, from Frankfurt of course, who mistakenly ended up eating my special meal (I was too embarrassed to tell him that I had been given his ordinary meal). He filled the next 2-3 hours with chat about Africa and his involvement in helping companies get their auditing on track. I was just about to tell him that I desperately needed some sleep (it was near midnight) when he dropped this on me; “How long would you like to live for?”. Deep. My answers were becoming short and sharp and this definitely wasn’t a topic I wished to engage in at this time of night. He proceeded to tell me that he believed we were born into bodies that were not meant to die, God had made us perfect, and that it was Adam and Eve’s fault for making the wrong decision in the garden of Eden that had doomed us all to certain death. That was just the start of it. I’m not kidding, by now I’d worked out that Klaus was a Jehova’s witness and I was subjected to a further hour and a half of quotes from the bible and justifications at to how these were relevant today. Eventually he must have grown weary of his own monologue and finally stopped talking. I tried in vain to sleep and couldn’t, but pretended to be deeply unconscious, missing my breakfast on purpose, until we touched down in Mombasa and the seat belt signs had been switched off. He left me with a hearty handshake, told me what a brave young lady I was, and slipped me a little piece of yellow paper (the type they try to hand you at your front door) with a little handwritten note guiding me towards the Jehova’s witness website if I did ever want to find out more…
Waiting for my baggage, I couldn’t help but wonder what a fully loaded plane of white westerners was doing here – why Mombasa? I spotted one African family and the rest of the ‘arivees’ were all Caucasian. Some traveling I expect, but there was a real mix of old and young, and some families. Just shows how little I actually know about Kenya – clearly Mombasa is the place to be! I exchanged a bit of money at Mombasa airport and took strode out to greet my pre-arranged taxi driver. “Jumbo! It’s good to be back in Africa.”
Driving from Mombasa to Diani Beach, we passed the hustle and bustle of daily life along the East Coast. For most of the journey out of Mombasa we hooted our way through the traffic, bobbing and weaving past dosey pedestrians, cart-dragging traders, clapped out taxis, noisy tuk-tuks, slow cyclists, reckless motorbikes, smelly busses and straying livestock. The streets were lined with shacks and stalls, most ramshackled, made from corrugated iron with black plastic roofs held down by tyres, or basic wooden lean-to’s adorned with tomatoes, kale and bananas. ‘Come in for a Cold Tusker’ one bar beckoned, ‘Welcome to the Lion Eye and Blood Centre’ announced a clinic. Passing the ‘Nice and Lovely Hair Salon’ I noted a neatly formed crocodile rank of school-bound girls in their proud grey uniforms. There are a lot of clinics and academies along the way. Healthcare and schooling seem to be a priority which is good. Nearing Diani Beach, things start to thin out a bit and you really get a feeling you’re nearing the coast. Tall palm trees line the road and the dwellings become more farm-like. At Ukunda we hung a left and headed further south along the Diani Beach road. Resorts line almost every inch of the way through Diani and beyond. Diani is a tourist hot spot – beautiful beaches and cobalt blue seas make it a desirable destination for backpackers and resort dwellers alike.
Diani Beach
South Coast Backpackers
My home for the next 5 days was South Coast Backpackers, a melting pot of travelers and volunteers. It’s run by three young French chaps who enjoy a good party and is the place to be if you’re young and hip (I did well to fit in). This is the type of place where people dip in and out so much, you end up calling eachother by the country from which you hail. “Hey, South Africa, come and have a shot with me” yelled Canada from the pool-side thatch bar. “Ok, cool, let me go and get Austria and Ireland, I’m sure they’ll want one too” I yell back.
I quickly come to appreciate that my ‘adventure in a nice big 4×4 with all the mod cons’ pales in comparison to some stories. David, a 20 year old Austrian kid is volunteering for months at a time in small remote villages playing football with the street kids and giving adults English lessons – that, my friends is incredible.
Gale Beach, South of Mombasa
The backpackers did stuff together. We sat around talking about our journeys, caught motorbikes up and down the coast multiple times a day, hired a dhow once to to swim and snorkel off the coast, crossed rivers to get to remote beaches, partied at Forty Thieves Beach Bar. I didn’t play cards ONCE which is quite something!
Ireland one & two (Amy and Tonia), and I spent a day at Swahili Beach Resort. At a cool £300 plus per night, this was a little out of the price range, so we opted for the day trip option and had a coke and pizza pool side.
Shimba Hills, Kwale – near Diani Beach
For my final night, we arranged to go up to Shimba Hills for sunset which was just breath-taking. The land just dips away and you can see for miles across the escarpment. Envisage newly-born Lion King Simba, being dangled over pride rock by Rafiki, and you’ve just about captured the moment. Denmark played the Cirlce of Life soundtrack whilst we all sipped on Tuskers and watched the sun set over Kilimanjaro in the distance.
Back to Mombasa
The Beast was due to dock in Mombasa on the 22nd July and did so (horray for smooth sailing), and I am currently awaiting instructions from customs to come in and drive it out of there. I can’t wait to hit the road.
Next stop – Tsavo and Amboseli game reserves – life is good!
Off the Beaten Track 