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 Every year hundreds of thousands of European yachtsmen fly to the Caribbean for winter sailing in the sun and return with sailing cruisers stories. Why can’t Kenya get a slice of this yacht charter action? This is the theory we set out to test as we left Kilifi in April 2004 for an overnight stay in Mida Creek, 24 kilometres up the coast on a 10 metre dhow.
The four-year old Lamu dhow, Ashraf had not been fitted with an engine yet, so we had to pole and pull, and then short tack against the flood tide and onshore wind to reach Kilifi club, where we loaded some cold Tuskers into the coolbox. By 11.30 we were cruising along with a following wind inside the reef off Kilifi Bay where we had three metres clearance under the keel.
Sitting in the shade of an UNHCR canvas, we watched the coast slide past at 5 knots, enjoying a fresh fruit lunch of mangoes, banana and pineapple. Villas and hotels gave way to scrub and a solitary Giriama house. We saw no shipping unless you count a group of lobster fishermen with snorkels.
We passed Red Sand cliffs at 1300, while Shallo and Abdulha started to cook the meat for the evening meal. By 1400, White Sand cliffs were abeam and we were aiming at Whale rock, an old coral head which marks the entrance to Mida Creek. My Admiralty chart was small scale and showed the Creek as completely drying at low water, but I knew from a previous visit that there was plenty of depth once we crossed the reef strewn entrance and our entry was timed for high water.
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Bono steered and Shallo read the depths by eye as Ashraf took the shallower southern passage, and then hugged the northern shore to stop at Temple Point Hotel at 14.30 to pay park fees to KWS.
It took an hour to sail up the creek in seven metres of water and anchor off Sita, a village at the head of the creek, spread under the shade of palm trees. An old fisherman came alongside for a light for his cigarette. He had caught a good kingfish but complained that the water was still too clear for his nets. Locals visited in their dugouts to investigate this strange site of wazungu arriving from the sea instead of the road. A spectacular kingfisher perched near the beach.
As the sun went down, Shallo served up his classic curry and we drank Tusker to the unadulterated sounds and sights of the African night, shooting stars blazing through the Milky Way. Flashes told of thunderstorms over Tsavo, and the impending arrival of the long rains and the southerly monsoon – we had to go back south tomorrow. By 2130, we were asleep in the open on the aft deck as a gentle breeze gave us a bite-free night.
 At daybreak, the crew were silently making Ashraf ready to leave, as we had to catch the last of the land breeze to sail out of Mida. Pelicans, herons and flamingos picked over the mudflats as the tide ebbed with two hours to Low Water. Thin, little barracuda shot out of the water, tail jumped, then belly flopped on the surface. Sardines and birds scattered as a kingfish grabbed some breakfast.
Half way down the creek, the land breeze died. Without an engine we had to make the entrance before the flood tide turned against us and the wind increased from the sea, so out came the paddles. They say problems come in threes - we were also crossing the reef at low water.
The wind started to blow from the sea, and we took a tack over to some shallow water to the south, a mistake that involved half an hour of pushing and poling to get back to the channel over some hard reefs with a surprising two knot tide still under us. These dhows are designed to run aground, but it would have made a mess of a modern keelboat.
Finally we were able to sail out of the northern entrance, clearing Whale Rock and setting a course hard on the wind back to Kilifi at 1000. We had crossed the reef at Low Water.
 We sailed close to the reef to stay out of the north going current, but not too close as coral heads can pop up anywhere, and are not charted. Although we were pointing as close to the wind as a modern cruiser, the lack of a keel meant that we drifted sideways – about 15 degrees of leeway. Nevertheless we made Kilifi with one tack as the wind gradually came from the sea, and Shallo cooked spaghetti for lunch. After returning the empties to Kilifi club, we ran Ashraf up the beach at 1500 so that we could fit the marine toilet the next day.
The trip taught us some valuable lessons about Kenya as a cruising ground for European yachtsmen:
- A modern keel cruiser would be restricted by depths over reefs in the entrance to creeks, and could come to serious harm without skilled pilotage.
- The more predictable and calmer winds of the Northerly monsoon, December to March, allow dhows to reach along the coast with the sea breeze, but a small outboard is necessary to get in and out safely against wind and tide.
- The anchorages are wonderful, full of wildlife and friendly locals.
- The sea is free of traffic, but consequently the charts are free of detail.
- The dhow or perhaps a cataraman are the boats for this coast, which would appeal to the adventurous yachtsman who wants something different, away from marinas, commercial shipping and harbour regulations.
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