Aden , Yemen ( CNN ) It did n't look like much , but we 'd been told it was typical of the kind of craft ferrying the route between Djibouti and Aden . Better , everyone advised , to be low key , even if low key meant faded lights and three water pumps chugging at all times . The wooden vessel was called Mecca — after the holy city . We were told we 'd be at the port in Aden by the next morning , but as the hours ticked by it soon became apparent that that was wildly optimistic . Morning came and we were still only halfway there . We 'd been given a secure route , charted for us by the Djiboutian Coast Guard . It meant hugging the coastline , trying to stay as much as possible out of the deeper water in the middle of the Gulf of Aden where the world 's navies seemed to be squaring off . It was almost double the distance of the direct route . Add to that a strong current -- and stomach-churning seas -- and it felt like we would spend an eternity on board . After our second sunset , we were finally close enough for my phone to ping with a Yemeni welcome message . However , we could n't risk arriving at night ; even getting too close to shore would risk being mistaken for a re-supply vessel and potentially taking a Saudi hit . The captain slowed the boat to a crawl so the remaining miles would stretch until daybreak . Finally , morning came . It was time to go into town to see what life was like for the people of Aden . We were n't really sure what to expect but we did know we could n't stay for long . From the moment we stepped through the gates of the port , we were met by noise and desperation , shoving and shouting . `` Where are you going ? '' `` I 'll pay , I 'll pay '' `` Are you here to take the Americans ? '' I shouted back that we 'd return soon . We had just five hours on the ground and we needed to visit the hospital , the shuttered markets , the frontlines . There was so much we needed to see . The crowds clustered around our camera lens , asking `` Why ? '' `` Why is this happening ? '' `` Why has n't it stopped ? '' It felt like no time had passed before we were told we had to go . The shelling had begun . We 'd been hearing pops of sniper fire all day but now we could hear rounds of automatic weapons and they were getting louder . As we arrived back at port , we found we were n't leaving alone . After waiting at port , praying a passing ship would dock , ours had become an unexpected lifeline for some of the families caught in the fighting . The Harbor-Master asked if we could take 60 refugees . It did n't feel like the answer could be anything but yes . What we did n't realize until it was too late was that the refugees were being charged $ 300 a person : An `` exit fee . '' Those who did n't have the money were pushed back behind the wrought iron gates of the port . Those that did shared our day-and-a-half trip home . As the shores of Djibouti grew closer , you could see the uncertainty begin to take over . Many of them had come from comfortable lives , before the war shattered them . They had left homes that once hummed with air conditioners and televisions . Would the camps have TVs , they asked . No , they would n't , I said . What I did n't say was that they 'd be lucky to have electricity . But woven amid the uncertainty was the relief of escape . Some of the refugees took over our ship 's galley -- the kitchen . They 'd found a former chef amongst their number who commandeered the store cupboard , sending out a pick and mix of heaped trays . We got tuna spaghetti and more Turkish coffee than our cameraman Byron could possibly drink . Because we 'd brought refugees back with us , we were asked by the Djibouti Coast Guard to dock in the country 's north , in Obok , so they could be given the proper status while they wait to see what happens back home . The immigration officials were -- understandably -- a little bemused by our presence amongst a boatload of people fleeing Yemen , but to their credit they decided the important thing was that these families were now safe . From there Djibouti Port was just a few hours away , hours that stretched into infinity for the families ringing my phone to check that their loved ones had made it into harbor . Over the last few hours , people had shyly come up to ask if they could borrow our phone to tell their families they were safe . Now a deluge of anxious parents , siblings and partners flooded my ear , asking how it could possibly be that we were n't yet on dry land . But eventually we were , and as we watched the Djiboutian officials unload what remained of people 's belongings onto shore , it was a reminder that these were the lucky ones . Thousands more are still waiting back in Yemen , hoping they too will reach a safe port .
CNN 's Nima Elbagir describes the boat journey from Djbouti to Aden . Vessel returned with three refugees desperate to flee fighting in Yemen .