Back in Nairobi we reunite with the Beagle at JJ’s (Jungle Junction).  Nestled in the suburb of Karen/Hardy, JJ’s is both a very pleasant place to camp and a working auto garage for any kind of vehicle repair you might imagine. The four dogs are just a bonus.  Overlanders tend to gather here – Mike and Sue from Canada, Eiji and Chizu from US/Japan, the Germans driving the monster unamog named Simba (we met them back in Tanzania) and an English woman riding her motorcycle alone across Africa. South African expat Reggie, a musician living on a beach south of Mombasa, had many suggestions for places to camp along the Kenyan/Tanzanian coast. JJ’s proprietor Chris cooked a braii for everyone on a Friday night, we shared stories and email addresses and we hope to meet these friends again.

The plan is to hug the coastline of the Indian Ocean from mid-Dec to the middle of January. Gee, what a trial to be camping on a beach enjoying sun, warm water, and a sea breeze in December (apologies to our snow-bound friends back home). Camping on the sand means sand in pretty much everything and tiny ants in everything else, not to complain of course. At Barefoot Beach north of Malinda we are parked right in the sand, the water is warm and inviting and the sand itself an unusual combination of red with gold sparkles of pyrite. Fantastic. There is something to be said for the coarser-grained sand. It does not tend to blow all over like the powered-sugar sand of Zanzibar but how amazingly soft that sand felt on your feet. And really, either kind of sand works for us.

Vasco de Gama in Malindi
Nearly a year ago, along the western coast of South Africa we came upon a monument to Vasco de Gama, the sea-captain who led the first Portuguese fleet to India, sailing around the Cape of Good Hope in 1488 or so. Months later (on our trip, not de Gama’s, haha) we find ourselves in a small apartment in Malindi, Kenya, and steps down the beach is yet another Vasco de Gama monument. That guy did get around. Imagine his surprise when finally arriving on the eastern African coast of Indian Ocean and finding cities and large villages already established by the Arabs and natives. Part of de Gama’s mission was to pave the way for Christianity but the Muslims got ahead of him. Still he was an intrepid man, not a sea-captain at all when he started; his was on the job training of the monumental sort. Portugal went on to become one of the greatest Old World powers until the catastrophic 1755 earthquake, combined with a tsunami and firestorm, all but destroyed Lisbon. The country’s fortunes have never recovered. The Vasco de Gama museum is housed in this alley. Yes, an alley, it is an outdoor museum. Worth a visit, the interpretive panels are well-done.

The apartment we stayed in is owned by Raj, a businessman we met in Eldoret. He said go ahead, make yourselves at home – how very African. In our wildest dreams we thought there might be hot water for a shower – it never hurts to dream, right? Well, there was water, a trickle, for the first three days, none of it hot. All of Malinda was without water. There were empty jugs around to fill when water did appear so it was comfortable enough. The beach was at our doorstep but too rough and brown to swim in – rivers were washing in silt from rains north of us. Malinda natives speak Italian, children call out a refreshing Ciao.  Because of the many Italian expats living here there is delicious pizza in town as well as fresh seafood and an seemingly endless supply of a round type of mango, an “apple” mango, selling for a quarter apiece. Huge mango trees are dripping with fruit – we didn’t put even a small dent in the supply despite eating four or five per day. There’s plenty left if anyone is headed to Malindi.

South of Mombasa
Leaving Malindi heading south we tried hard to avoid downtown Mombasa, Kenya’s second largest city. A bypass route that looked good on Garmin turned out to be one of Garmin’s little jokes – instead of a short city bypass, it routed us three hours back to a small village and then another two hours back to the far side of the Mombasa. Fortunately we caught on to the trickery before going too far and with the best of u-turns we made it to our destination, the ferry across the Kilindini Harbor.  Mid-day, hot, muggy, we sit with the windows down and the engine off waiting our turn to board the ferry. Cold-drink sellers, as well as the far-from-fortunate, approach all the vehicles, not just us. Coins goes to the surprisingly many blind people. As with so many countries (including the US) there are disenfranchised adults just trying to get by everywhere we go. I cannot help but feel sorrowful for them; as adults they are aware of how difficult life is and will likely continue to be. Children have a bit of an advantage – family, orphanages, churches tend to them, at least until they are emancipated. Adults have few options and that is a shame no matter what country is responsible.