I am writing this entry aboard a rickety fishing boat in the middle of Lake Malawi.

I'm nestled between two pigs, some large bags of fish and about 20 fishermen. I'm hoping that once I get used to the smell, the fish bags will become comfortable sitting apparatus - something that is much needed for the long and sometimes treacherous journey back to the mainland.

For the past few days I've been visiting Likoma Island, which lies in the northeastern part of Lake Malawi. The small tropical island sits in Mozambican waters, but is an enclave of Malawi. Mary's Meals feeds more than 3,000 children at seven schools on Likoma, but getting the much-needed food to the island can be a huge logistical challenge. Something I experienced first-hand on the 9-hour boat ride out to Likoma.

Firstly, the main boat - called the Ilala - which transports passengers and goods to and from the island, broke down. It's an old boat, which has been operational since the 1960s, and I'm told that breakdowns are frequent.

The next option is for the likuni phala, which Mary's Meals provides for the children, to be transported on a smaller fishing boat. I arrive at the port on the mainland to find dozens of Mary's Meals bags being offloaded from a truck onto a vessel. The boat is packed to the brim with people, sofas, fridges, food, bottles of fizzy drinks, live chickens, some pigs, tonnes of fish, maize - basically everything you could want is on this boat and I start to wonder how on earth it will be able to set sail.

I turn to my colleague, Geofrey, who is the regional manager for the Northern part of Malawi, and ask if we're going to be able to fit. He shakes his head and says the boat is full. I can't disagree-every inch of space is taken up. I'm pleased, though, that the food has made it on.

We set about trying to find another way of getting to the island, and then stumble across a fisherman who says he's on his way and will take us with him. I look at his boat. It's very small - the type that you see in those idyllic pictures from Thailand - and it has no cover. But with no other option to get to the island, we agree and all pile in.

When we're about 30 minutes into the journey, the fisherman and his colleague are having a serious conversation in Chichewa. I ask Geofrey to translate and it emerges that they've not been to Likoma before and don't have a compass with them. The captain sees the concerned look on my face and reassures us he knows where he's going. "It's just straight", he says. I don't know much about sailing, but I'm quite sure "straight" isn't a nautical term!

We begin chatting and I ask him about the lake. It's 700 metres deep in parts and is the ninth largest lake in the world. It also hosts more species of fish than any other lake.

He explains that the waters across to Likoma can become very choppy, and then begins to embark on a story about how he once had to be rescued by the coast guard because it was so rough. It's at this point that one of my other colleagues, John, pipes up and asks me to stop inquiring about nautical disasters whilst on a boat.

We change the subject and talk about Mary's Meals, which is currently feeding more than 698,000 children at school in Malawi and 923,572 children globally.

"It's an excellent programme," he says. "I've not been to Likoma before but a very close friend lives there and he says since Mary's Meals have begun feeding more and more children are going to school."

"You can see how challenging it is to get across the lake, and everyone there is so grateful."

As we chat I feel privileged that I'll be able to see first-hand the difference that Mary's Meals is making on this remote island.

Seven hours have passed and in the distance I can finally see land, but the wind is picking up and the waters are becoming very rough. We've just entered rainy season in Malawi and often the weather can change very quickly. I look up at the sky but thankfully it's clear, I just hope it stays that way until we reach land. It would be a disaster if it started raining as this boat doesn't have a cover on it.

I'm told that it's another 2 hours to Likoma and the waters will stay this way. Waves begin to crash over the boat and we are thrust from side to side. I look at John's face and he looks slightly worried, I look back to the captain and he seems unmoved, which reassures me. I don't normally get seasick, but I'm starting to feel a bit nauseous. Geofrey is also looking quite ill. He manages to find a small place to curl up. One of the other fisherman is also looking very pale and has his head sticking over the side of the boat.

After what feels like a lifetime we finally arrive and it feels good to be on land again. We dock next to the boat, which has been carrying the Mary's Meals food. Dozens of women are wading out to the boat, fully clothed, to collect the bags.

"They're the volunteers," says Geofrey.

"They come every month to collect the food. They wade through the water in their clothes and then walk for miles to the deliver the food to each school because there are hardly any cars on the island."

It's humbling to witness the commitment of each and every one of these women. One of them then turns to me and begins to thank me for what Mary's Meals is doing. I explain that it's not just Mary's Meals supporters, but the commitment of mothers like her that make the programme possible.

I then ask her why she does what she does.

"Before Mary's Meals came to Likoma, children were dropping out of school because they were hungry. Now our children are healthy and happy," she says proudly.

"We want to be part of making them grow up to be successful."

We follow the volunteers on their long hike to the schools. I'm in awe of these women: every one of them is carrying two 20 kilogram bags of likuni phala on their heads. It's boiling hot and the sun is beating down, but no-one is complaining; instead, the volunteers are smiling and laughing and one of them even breaks into a song.

After about an hour we arrive at the first school and are greeted by lots of excitable children. They all crowd around and start laughing and jumping in the air.

I'm led into a classroom where about 70 children are sitting looking intently at the teacher. She explains who I am and then asks the children what they think of the food.

A 12-year-old girl raises her hand.

"I don't have any breakfast before I come to school," she says.

"Before Mary's Meals came I was dropping out from classes because I was too hungry, now I look forward to coming because I love the porridge."

Getting to Likoma was certainly a challenge, but I'm grateful I've been given the opportunity to see how much the food really means to the thousands of children on this remote and secluded island.