Arriving at the then called Sportsman (now Ocean Sports) in Watamu was another surreal experience. You drive through what we call "third world" poverty, by young girls walking up to five miles with gallon buckets of water on their head, women carrying firewood on their heads (Note the men are all standing by the road watching...) and into a seaside retreat surrounded by a concrete wall with broken glass imbedded in the top as if to act as barbed wire. Here we would spend a week to ten days doing what we knew not as we were not supposed to be here.
As it turns out Watamu and the nearby larger village of Malindi are world class fishing destinations favored by ocean fishing sportsmen the world over. Who knew? It also had a very accommodating staff and facility for three wayward travellers on a Kenyan Safari. Three squares a day, afternoon high tea, private guest house for the three of us, and a bar. Oh yeah... and a 46 foot Bertram Sport Fisher and a swimming pool. And if you got bored...next door was the resort called Hemingways...pure first class for the distinguishing European. I guess this will do for a place to waste a little time.
Now in travelling to Kenya, you will have to get shots and take anti malarial drugs. I believe all three of us were taking mefloquine also known as Larium. No real side effects that we felt, but the fact that you had to take them at all, plus the fact that your bed came with a mosquito net, added a true sense of adventure to sleeping as you got "accustomed" to your new location. Getting in bed, while trying to make sure that you have all, and I mean all, corners and edges of your net carefully tucked under your mattress so that no varmints could get to you, was a challenge. Then make sure that as you lay in bed bathed in perspiration you don't have any body parts touching the net (certainly they could bite you through the net!). Real comfortable the first few nights. Doug and I slept upstairs and Earl downstairs in our Villa. The first morning I awoke to a strange kind of tinkling or rattling coming from downstairs. Kind of like a tea cup against a saucer. Rising and coming down, we found Earl who was and is always the master at finding the "special things", sitting on the front veranda with tea, coffee, scones, crumpets, etc. How great was this! It made me forget about the big fat blood filled mosquito on the inside of my net as I arose.
After delivering the morning tea, our assigned staff member asked where we would like our afternoon high tea served. Not quite in the swing of living as a British ex-pat, we advised we weren't sure...he would have to search us out. We were going to explore our new surroundings.
Another thing we were not aware of was that the hotel grounds were forbidden to the locals. What this did not address, however, was the beach itself. As soon as you step foot off the last step of the hotel onto the sand, you became fair game for the local merchant trade. Wood carvings, bracelets (no-doubt created from the copper wires from the sometimes working telecommunications system), camel rides, snorkeling tours...you name it. You had to walk fast to keep them behind you. We had been advised before coming that the heftier you are the wealthier you are...so our collective merchant brigade was always directed to Earl as "Poppa" and the one with all the money. Doug and I chuckled at this thought...I'm not sure Earl appreciated it though.
About 200 feet off shore there was a bommie or rock jutting out or the water. It was about 30 feet high and looked as though it could be scaled. After slight consideration we decided to venture to the rock...our first foot in the Indian Ocean. All along the shore there was seaweed at the wave /beach line. It was twenty or so feet wide and had to be crossed to get into the water. No problem. Next obstacle was that the water, which was only a few feet deep, was littered with wht I choose to call pock marks. These were hol,es about two feet in diameter and six inches to a foot deep. Perfect ankle damage terrain. We wandered out toward our goal, chatting away, and noticing that the surface of our target seemed to be fluid. Not until we were nearly on top of the rock did we realize that it was completely covered with crabs. Hundreds of thousands of crabs! Wasn't going to be anybody climbing on that rock today. So back we headed to shore. As we approached the seaweed barrier we noticed onother overlooked item...about every three feet on the ocean side of the seaweed...a moray eel poked out his head. Every three feet! Dead stop...how were we to cross this now? How long were these monsters that we unwittingly walked right through on our way out to sea? If you ran between two you were sure to step on the tail of one, right? After several minutes of discussion, survey, and distress Earl ran through...Doug followed. Neither were accosted. Took me a few more moments to build up confidence...then I busted through with all my speed. And I live to tell the story.
Next was breakfast...a good hearty English breakfast. Doug and Earl ordered eggs and several items of meat...eggs...Sixty Minutes...pallet of eggs in Nairobi...I ordered peeled fruit. That went on several days as I watched The guys enjoy their great breakfast and not show any signs of remorse. About the third day I joined them...and the eggs and meat were good...
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