Lunatic Express

It's been 2 weeks since I last went to the beach, so I thought I probably deserved another holiday. When a friend rang to say they were renting a cottage in Mombasa, and they had a spare space, I pretty much jumped at the chance. Especially when I heard they were taking the overnight train down, which is something I've been meaning to do for a while.

The train leaves at 7pm from Nairobi (supposedly), and arrives in Mombasa at 10 the next morning. It's really very slow.

It's also pretty rundown, but you can imagine it was quite something in its heyday, whenever that was. The train actually left on time, incredibly, and half an hour later you get called for dinner in the dining cart.

There was a choice of Maryland chicken or wienerschnitzel. I had the beef stew. It was all slightly indistinguishable.

We were staying on the South Coast of Mombasa, which supposedly has the better beaches. To get there, you have to take a ferry across the Likoni channel. The ferries to cross Likoni are legendary - as a quick google search attests:

We spent well over an hour sitting in the car waiting to get on. After all that time, you expect the crossing to be, well, not something you could probably swim across faster.

The crossing itself takes less than five minutes. It all seems a bit ridiculous, but the alternative is to take a 120km diversion, which actually seems to be what google maps recommends you do.

So, 2 and a half hours after getting off the train, we're finally approaching the beach. This is where it gets slightly embarrassing. There were 3 of us travelling overnight on the train. The dining car seats 4 to a table, so a charming Swedish gent called Jacob, who was travelling alone, joined us for dinner. He had arrived in Nairobi that day, and was travelling in Kenya for a week before meeting his fiancee in Uganda. Over the course of dinner, a box of wine (because we are that classy), and many games of cards, we established that he was staying at the Beach House Africa, Maweni Beach, and we were staying at the Maweni Beach Cottages. He seemed harmless enough (most Swedes do), so we obviously offered him to share our taxi to Maweni.

It's only as we're approaching the beach that Jacob asks the driver where exactly his guesthouse is. The rather predictable response came that the "Beach House Africa, Maweni Beach" is, in fact, nowhere near Maweni Beach, and is rather on the North Coast, back on the other side of the Likoni Channel. Fortunately, he seemed very relaxed about the whole thing; a feeling no doubt helped by the sight of the beach.

On the way back, we didn't think we had quite covered enough forms of transport, so we opted for the overnight bus to Nairobi. This leaves at 10.30, arriving at 5 in the morning on Monday (significantly faster than the train, and if you dare peer through the bus's windscreen, you understand why), ensuring we were back at work by 8.

Alternatively, you can always fly directly to the South Coast for £200 return, arriving early on Saturday morning and getting back at a sensible time on Sunday night. But that would miss the whole experience. Sometimes you have to feel like you've earned that break.