Sunday in Morondava, and my Kayaking Misadventure

I knew the nearest LDS branch was several hours away, but as it was a Sunday I still wanted to find a Christian church to visit. After an early breakfast, I approached the front desk to ask about renting a bike as I’d seen one against a wall the day before. The town was flat and relatively small, and I looked forward to the possibility of exploring it using my favorite means of transportation—maybe even make it all the way back to the baobabs. The front desk staff spoke a little English, but apparently no one had asked to rent bikes from them before, because the next thing I knew they’d arranged for a pousse pousse (bicycle rickshaw). They thought I was crazy when I tried to explain I wanted to pedal myself, but when I confirmed that it wasn’t possible I asked them to have him take me to the nearest church. The winning denomination was Catholic, and unlike any mass I’d attended. The church was packed and I’d obviously missed most of the mass, but the music I did catch had a good beat and was accompanied by what sounded like an accordion (I never actually saw the instruments).

I walked back along the beach and saw more of the fishing in action, and this time the locals were insistent that I check out some of their catch.

local fishing boat

Pulling in the nets

bringing in the catch for the women to sort

Examining the catch

some of the variety of their catch

They use bits of old flip flops to help the edges of the net float

Back at the beach by the hotel, I found a secluded spot and enjoy a little scripture study on the sand, interrupted occasionally by sand crabs appearing to fight their neighbors. The water looked great and I decided to borrow the resort’s kayak to enjoy it, but when I asked at the front desk I was told they weren’t available until later that afternoon.

view across the channel

In the meantime, I retreated to the shade of my porch to enjoy the view and read a bit. It felt crazy to have a whole bungalow to myself but I wasn’t about to complain.

When kayak time arrived, the staff were kind enough to help me carry it to the water, which was much further than I’d remembered. I didn’t feel up to the ocean’s waves so I insisted on the channel, completely neglecting one of the basics of sailing: tide. My scripture reading several hours earlier had been at high tide, and as we arrived at the channel I saw just how low the water gets. Still, I was determined and set off to explore the mangroves and village across the way.

ready to cast off

This should've been my clue--they're walking because the water is too shallow for their boat

The water was even shallower than it looked, and it wasn’t long before the kayak got stuck in the mud, and I had to hop out to drag it to deeper water. Eventually I made it across the channel and made a friend for a moment before continuing on my way. 

across the channel

The channel was full of mud/sand bars, turning my planned voyage into a voyage/hike. It appeared the further inland I got the worse this became, so I soon decided to take my kayak for a walk across the mud to what appeared to be consistently deeper water on the other side of the channel. However, I managed to pick a soft spot of mud to try this stunt and sunk several inches into the mud with each step. It wasn’t as bad as Humphrey Bogart in “The African Queen” but it sure wasn’t what I had in mind! Trying not to think about Schistosomiasis as my bare feet sank into the mud, I slowly made my way towards the water. With the help of some other local kids, I eventually made it and finally started paddling in water deeper than a few inches to get back to where I started. The day ended a bit better with a final dip in the pool before packing.

My spot to watch the sunset

last sunset at Morondava