We woke to a concerningly still morning and the wind showed no sign of developing whilst we had breakfast and paid the bill, ingeniously using PayPal because as expected the card machine did not want to play ball.

We stockpiled our bags in the bar for the taxi to pick up later and started our final pilgrimage up the beach towards an equally windless looking Paje. George greeted us with a more positive outlook than we had expected so we settled into the shady hammocks of Mr. Kawaha's coffee shop to await the wind which had started to gently lick at the flags.

As promised by George the turn of the tide brought with it a freshening wind and like excitable children we launched our kites and headed out into the lagoon, this time brandishing monster boards. We started by repeating our body dragging but with the board, trying to dodge the sea urchins, which was easier said than done and sadly one of Hattie's feet soon became a pin cushion.

With the wind freshening and the tide rapidly flooding the lagoon we took the relationship testing step of starting to try to stand up on the boards. It went much better than expected and we all spent some time out of the water but the pressure was on as I watched Charlie fly past me, looking like he's been kitesurfing for years, as I surfaced spluttering salty water from my latest face plant. Game on!

We were forced back through sea urchin alley to the inner lagoon as the sea level rose, making us more and more buoyant, so losing purchase on the bottom. This meant returning upwind after our failed attempts to stand required significant effort for both couples and naturally tempers started to fray... After one particularly out of control crashing downwind rampage George reined us in and we returned to the beach to walk back upwind on the sand, away from the boats which acted like magnets to our high fragile speed kites.

Unfortunately despite the 50m tramp up the sand away from these obstacles Charlie set his sights on a couple of unfortunate swimmers who were soon duck diving for their lives as his kite careered towards them. Amazingly the swimmers surfaced unscathed rather Charlie coming off worst with a rather bruised ego and sore backside. I made the most of one glorious tack where everything clicked before ending in a large watery crash where my faithful Karaka cap and sunglasses took a trip to Davey Jones' Locker as I fought for air and upwind ground, unable to reach them before they sank.

By the end of our 3 hours George was 'totally stoaked' with our improvements and signed us off as IKO certified. We thanked him, grabbed a quick lunch while Hattie had the sea urchin spines removed from her foot by Mamma Africa and joined our long suffering taxi driver who took us North, heading for the beach house we had booked on the north eastern coast in Kiwengwa.

After an hour we slowed down to head through a village and picked up Moreno who was the caretaker of the Italian owned beach paradise we had chosen through AirBnB. After 5 minutes of navigating through the backstreets of derelict local housing we arrived at what appeared to be a tip and in the gloom of twilight we glimpsed the damp and shady building which apparently was the one we had rented, though it bore minimal resemblance to the photos in our memories. With our hopes of a stunning beachfront villa dashed we unloaded our bags onto the crumbling porch covered in algae and Moreno opened up the rooms.

Immediately our hearts sank as the musty air hit us and Charlie followed the trail of destruction that was strewn across the bed to perfectly circular nibbled mouse holes in both pillows. There was no hot water in the house, and the fountain which erupted from the underside of the second bedroom's sink meant that Charlie and Hattie were either sleeping with the rodents or sharing with Bob and myself, who's room had muslin curtains instead of a mosquito net and a knackered ceiling fan which turned at an ineffective 20rpm.

With Moreno offering promises of rodent free nights, if we kept the doors shut, and the joys of the beach making up for the house's shortcomings tomorrow we locked up and wandered down the beach in search of food as the 'onsite restaurant' promised was a beach shack serving E Coli with a side order of salmonella.

We navigated the dark beach following the sound of music and blagged our way into a swanky hotel's evening buffet. The food was OK, but the music was terrible so after a coffee on the terrace we returned up the dark beach to our disappointing accommodation and settled in, fully prepared for things to go bump in the night.