'If it's good enough, it will last.'

Ernest Hemingway's observation could almost be the motto of the resort that bears his name. Lapped by the waters of Turtle Bay in Watamu, Hemingways has achieved, within its short lifetime, a justifiable reputation for excellence pivoted around the customer as first priority. There is, however, a wider consideration - how does such a resort deal with the ecological implications of its location on a coastline of such environmental sensitivity? We shall see.

Hemingways opened in 1988 on a site previously occupied by Seafarers Hotel. It was the inspiration of chief executive Dicky Evans, who saw that a higher, brighter hotel, raised above sea level to catch cooling sea breezes, would be a far better use of the site. It was his drive that made the dream a reality.

'Never mistake motion for action,' Ernest advised. 'Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk,' he added. Whether that formed part of the Hemingways process it is not recorded! 'I always pass on good advice. It is the only thing to do with it.'

How did Oscar Wilde get into this?! His witticism was attached to a single rose placed on my pillow. Every bed in the hotel receives this adornment - a fresh rose, a new quotation, every night.

This attention to detail is apparent throughout the hotel, in the service, the architecture, the rooms themselves. Try Key West, one of several suites named from Ernest's life and work (Havana, Pilar, Papa, Green Hills). This is luxury - solid wood furniture with Lamu-style motifs, potted plants galore, constantly replenished baskets of fruit, and a mosquito net that fits OUTSIDE the bedside table. And in the corner of the main room, a huge bouquet of white roses below a sepia print of the author himself.

'I hear the last thing they invented in England was the pith helmet.'
Tom was one of an American group who were here for the whole experience - you could tell by the 'Into Africa' motif emblazoned on their baseball caps. His comment enlivened some good-natured banter with the Brits on a glass-bottomed boat headed out to the coral reef for some snorkelling. Hemingways prizes the cosmopolitan balance arising from its varied clientele. There is a faithful local following, with many regular visitors from within Kenya itself joining those from America and Europe. Many come from England; even from Manchester.

'Have you got any cider?'
Shereen was from Manchester. She may have been at Hemingways, but she wanted her favourite tipple. Unfortunately (as when Victoria Beckham asked for Liebfraumilch in a posh restaurant) there wasn't any to be had. Undaunted, Hemingways fetched some from Mombasa the next day. When Shereen returned to the bar the next evening, the barman was ready: 'Your cider, ma'am.' (Mrs. Beckham also got her Liebfraumilch.)

Then there's the food. The young executive chef, Wicus Prinsloo, has raised the cuisine to new standards. Fresh vegetables and flowers are flown in daily from Naivasha. During the kaskazi season of the northeast breeze from November to March, dinner is a candlelit affair on the terrace; the stronger southeasterlies of the kusi season (April to October) chase the diners into the magnificent restaurant with its makuti roof supported by giant casuarina pillars. There is much to do without leaving the hotel itself. Relax beside one of the two pools. Visit the air-conditioned, fully equipped gym. Take in the boutique for designer clothing made in Kenya, original oil paintings, and engraved glassware. Or be brave and visit the burly figure of Rose for a massage. 'Many of my clients say I have strong hands,' she says, as she pummels the last vestiges of tension from your body.

'Are they cooking more food, Earl, or is the boat on fire?' Tom, the star of the snorkelling trip, was at it again. We were lounging on cushions on the raised deck at the back of Hemingways' dhow as the sun set over the mangroves of Mida Creek. A seemingly limitless supply of food was emanating from the onboard barbecue - samosas, giant prawns, gujons of fish in garlic butter. The delicious aromas confirmed Earl's reassurance that it was more food, rather than the boat, that was cooking. Then, of course, there was dawa - Swahili for 'medicine', but in these circumstances a beguiling concoction of vodka, fresh lime, and honey.

The Sundowner Cruise is just one of many opportunities open to the visitor who wants to experience the astounding array of natural and historical assets that can be found within the immediate vicinity of Hemingways. Dive in the warm waters of the Indian Ocean, or cruise out past the reef to view and swim with dolphins. Visit Gede, a mysteriously abandoned Swahili settlement rescued from the engulfing forest as recently as the last century.

Also nearby is the Sokoke-Arabuko Forest, a remnant of the forest that once fringed much of this coast. Not surprisingly it is threatened, along with its unique inhabitants - the yellow-rumped elephant shrew, the Sokoke scops owl, Clarke's weaver. Tansy Bliss was a local woman who did much to help conserve the forest, and Garry Cullen, the hotel's managing director, likes occasionally to take a small group to her tree house at sunset to offer a champagne toast in her memory. It is an encouraging sign when a largish hotel pays homage to the environment which, in a sense, it owes its existence to. But what of potentially destructive activities, such as big-game fishing?

'To me heaven would be a big bull ring with me holding two barrera seats and a trout stream outside that no one else was allowed to fish in.'

Ernest Hemingway was a man of action and of the great outdoors. He loved fishing off this coast, and would have marvelled, as we do, at the huge trophy fish displayed in the bar and reception area. Admire the sleek graceful lines of the sailfish and marlins. Cower before the scowling trio of sharks above the bar, tiger and mako and hammerhead.

But all dead. What a shame! Fortunately, it rarely happens these days. The hotel strongly advocates a policy of tag and release on its game fishing excursions, and presents certificates to tag-and-release anglers. Even sharks are tagged and released if possible, although the story of the mice trying to bell the cat springs to mind!

'Food' fish which are caught - wahoo, kingfish, and snapper - are used as bait or in the kitchen. And don't take my word for the excellence of the yellowfin tuna sushi, ask the Japanese tourists!

'Rich people don't get bitten by snakes.'
'It's the poor people in the orchards and fields,' says James Ashe, one of the foremost snake experts in Kenya. Even at the age of 78 a mischievous light gleams in his eyes as he displays the extraordinary collection at the Bio-Ken Snake Farm in Watamu: 'Black mambas. People try to tell you they're little black snakes a few inches long.' Twelve feet more like it; sinuous, awesome, and mesmeric.

James is much respected in Watamu for his conservation and life-saving work. Only that morning a local woman had been brought in, bitten by a green mamba; but for James's antivenom, she probably would have died.

James is a friend of Hemingways, and the hotel holds a stock of antivenom. He does a fortnightly show for hotel residents; I would have liked to have been there the evening a waiter knocked over the box of snakes!

'There are some things which cannot be learned quickly, and time, which is all we have, must be paid heavily for their acquiring.' Hemingway again: and in Watamu there are those who have invested years in the acquisition of knowledge to help preserve ecosystems that can be wiped out by a few minutes of ignorance.

Richard Zanr? of Watamu Turtle Watch is trying to increase ecological awareness in an area where bottles of turtle oil fetch up to $15 on the black market and fishermen compensate for the decreasing size of their inshore catch by fishing with mosquito nets. But local people are responding to the financial incentives offered by the turtle release programme, and it was heartening to see a green turtle, brought in by the fisherman in whose net it had been caught, released again into the sea.

And Harrison, Hemingways gardener since its inception, using his wealth of knowledge to blend the hotel back into its environment. Flowers, trees, flourish everywhere - cycad, croton, flamboyant, frangipani. Harrison's eyes twinkle as he introduces each like a friend. The neem tree, he explains, contains medicine for 40 diseases; boil the leaves for malaria, take the bark for stomach trouble. And here's the lime trees he planted, now bearing fruit for the hotel's use. As I leave to head back to Nairobi, the receptionist gives me a paper bag. 'These are from Harrison to take home with you.' A dozen fresh limes. It is the small things, the attention to detail, that make the big possible.