Sailing East Africa: Adventures Aboard Smackwater Jack

"Over my dead body” was what my girlfriend said to me when I asked her whether she wanted to sail Smackwater Jack up from Dar es Salaam with me. SWJ came into my life in 2022 after I was introduced to an American working for the Embassy in Dar. He was leaving Tanzania and wanted to sell his boat. East Africa might not strike most sailors out there as a popular sailing spot (it isn’t). But I liked the idea of exploring an unfamiliar coastline by sea and – who knows – maybe one day sailing back home to the Mediterranean.

Earlier this year, my college friend Stan came over from the US to sail SWJ. Notwithstanding the prevailing northerlies, we planned to cruise up to Lamu before returning to Kilifi. The first day did not work out great with thunderstorms keeping us docked at the boat yard. The next day we set off with an unexpected southerly pushing us northwards. We had decided to sail through the night and take advantage of the 6-7 knots we were able to keep as we sailed past Watamu and Malindi. As the sun set, we cracked open two White Caps and started debating whether to go with canned chickpeas and tomatoes or splurge on canned tuna for dinner. Midway through what was becoming an unnecessarily long conversation, our fishing line suddenly jerked—we’d caught something! In almost a decade of sailing, my friends and I had only ever caught two fish, both too small to eat. So, when the line started pulling hard, we were convinced this was it, the moment we had been waiting for. Stan launched into what felt like an epic, hour-long battle while I kept the boat (and the beers) steady. As Stan reeled the fish out of the water we shouted. A barracuda! The size of my arm! Just as he was about to lift the fish onto deck, the line snapped. Apparently, this is called “dropping a fish.” We were both gutted. 

We made it to Shela at dawn just as the wind died. The entry into Shela was magical as we sailed past its sandy dunes and waved good morning to the fishermen on their way out to sea. We told them about our lost barracuda. As the sun came up, stifling heat sent us ashore in search of some iced coffee and fresh fruit. That’s when Stan got curious. 

“Is there anything farther up north?” 

“Yes, an island called Kiwayu, close-ish to the border with Somalia”

“Have you been?”

“No”

“Should we check it out?”

“Sure”

Nine hours of incredible sailing took us through Pate Bay, staying well clear of reefs as we tried to make it to Kiwayu by sunset. With some help from a friend who runs Jua House in Shela, we found a kind local who was waiting for us at the island’s only village. We made it just as the sun was going down and were invited by him to join his family for fast breaking (it was the middle of Ramadan). An hour or so later, Stan and I were riding behind what we were told are the only two working boda bodas on the island on the moonlit beach. We had some G&Ts alongside some Swahili fish curry at Mike’s Camp before sleeping on the beach. We woke up at sunrise and realized how stunning the place we had found ourselves was. We were completely alone on a long stretch of white beach looking out at the sun slowly rising above the Indian Ocean.

“Man, this is pretty incredible”

“Yeah”   

We made our way back to SWJ and set sail once again. We stopped for an evening in Manda Bay where we picked up some fuel and had a wonderful dinner at the lodge before spending our last night anchored just outside of the Italian space center just north of Malindi. We sailed into the Kilifi creek at sunset leaving behind us an incredible week sailing up and down one of the most beautiful countries we know. 
                                                                                                                                                                      Article by Maximilian Mancini 

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