Likoma Island

By Elise.

Likoma island is located in Lake Malawi, only about 5km from the Mozambique side of the lake but somehow still part of Malawi. The only way on to the island is the infamous Ilala ferry, that leaves once a week from Nkhata Bay. Supposedly there is another boat but this seems more of a myth than a reality. Zach and I had already spent a night on this same ferry, when we travelled from Senga bay to Monkey bay a couple of weeks earlier.

Luckily there is dock in Nkhata bay, so we can walk straight onto the boat. An absolute blessing as in addition to our four bags we were looking after a very stoned German mate from our hostel, and it is 11pm at night. We get him on board only for him to realise he's left his phone charger at the hostel. He leaves his gear with us and gets a taxi back up the hill returning half an hour later empty handed. He opens the top pocket of his bag and immediately finds the lost charger. This leg of the Ilala's route is actually supposed to be overnight so we have come prepared; we lay down some Chitenge (printed African fabric) we have been collecting, inflate our mattresses, lock our bags up and snuggle in for a night on the top deck of the ferry under the stars.

Surprisingly it wasn't that bad. A little windy and a little sketchy but not too bad. We are awoken around 6am as the ferry pulls into Chizumulu island, one stop before ours. Its cloudy but shades of orange and pink are peaking over the horizon. The Mozambique coast is looming in the background, and we watch fish eagles riding thermals. One of the workers from the only Lonely Planet listed hostel on Likoma finds us (not that hard, there is literally five white people on the boat) and helps us get ready to disembark. 

Unfortunately there is no dock on Likoma, so we have to take small boats (a little larger than a dinghy) to the shore. The usual pandemonium ensues. What makes this behaviour truly bizarre is that idea of time here is so relaxed, and that there is generally no rushing or even angst over delays of hours, sometimes even days. The Lonely Planet warns travellers to be prepared for transport to run on "Africa time" and that Malawi is like the rest of the continent times ten in this regard. Our first experience on the Ilala was prime example of this. About a hundred people waited on the lake shore from mid-morning for a boat that was six hours late and no one batted an eye. But when that boat arrives people push, shove and go bat-shit crazy to get on the first dinghy available, even though they will continue going back and forth for as long as it takes to load everyone and everything. It's an interesting dichotomy of attitude and behaviour in this particular situation that we can't quite make sense of. 

This time round we manage to hold our own even as the boat is so full that little waves of water lap over the edge, which is bare inches above the surface. That is until we get to shore and people begin jumping off. Before we even stop an extra pushy women steps on my lap, like I am a piece of baggage, only to be removed by Zach and told to 'calm down'. We hand our big packs to a couple of "porters" (men who wait on the shore to carry bags, and/or people, from the dinghy for a hundred kwatcha a pop). I am a grown ass women and don't want to be carried ashore, especially if I have to pay for what should be a common curtesy. I start lowering myself off the edge when the extra pushy woman 'helps' me off the boat and into the water (by help I mean she pushes me in the water because I seemed to be in the way of her extra large bag of crisps). With the camera in my backpack I jump out as quick as possible and run to the shore to check nothing is damaged. Luckily, my bag only got minimal water in it with the camera and passports dry as a bone, but I am soaked.

After the whole debacle we throw our bags in the back of a pick-up and drive to the other side of the island to our hostel, called Mango Drift. No roads lead to the hostel, so we have to trek through a village, up and down some hills and over some deep sand. We arrive to a beguiling stretch of sandy beach, turquoise blue water with Chizumulu island on the horizon. There are old boats turned day beds, swings, and lounge chairs scattered around the beach, with large baobabs, mango, and eucalyptus trees for shade. The bougainvillea are dropping their flowers all around, so pink and red petals are scattered throughout. Just heaven.

We spend our days snorkelling off the beach, stalking multi-coloured cichlids and crabs, hiking up the mountain and being greeted by young barefoot goat herders, laying in the hammocks, and playing bao. Every night dinner is served on a candle lit table on the beach. Very romantic. One day as we were waking up with our morning yoga routine we saw a pair of kites collecting sticks and nesting in a large baobab tree near our tent. It a blissful few days. 

 On the Saturday afternoon we catch the ferry back to the mainland. This journey is not so bad, we decide to pay the extra 200 kwacha (equivalent to 40 cents AUD) and get a semi-private boat to the ferry. The fishermen actually help us with our bags (what a luxury) and the experience is no where near as hectic or dangerous. On the boat we watch the sunset with a French couple we met on the island, and eat a decent dinner of nshima and vegetables in the old fashioned diner. We arrive at Nkhata bay an hour before schedule and find the taxis waiting on the dock quoting outrageous prices so we take the short walk into town to find a ride. Everywhere is closed except for the local bar, which is full of people watching the World Cup. Zach speaks to one of the guys on the door who disappears inside to find us a taxi driver. We speculate on the potential sobriety of whoever comes out only to see the old mate who worked at Mango Drift from our ferry ride out to Likoma emerge from the pub and give us a big grin. Small world. Or more accurately small town.

Likoma was very beautiful but such a hassle to get to. If nothing else it made us really appreciate our time in Monkey Bay which is very similar with clear waters and sandy beaches, and give us yet another reason to return there.