Namibia - The Spectacular Namib Desert, Skeleton Coast and Much More...

This summer two good friends and I decided to join an overland, safari style tour of Namibia, the country best known to North Americans as where Brangelina gave birth. But movie stars aside, Namibia is actually one of the most dramatically beautiful countries in the world. The scenery is amazing!

The tour got off to a less than perfect start when hung over Fabian missed the bus. What ensued was a high cost, high speed taxi chase up the coast in an effort to catch Luke, myself and 20 others before we entered the wilderness. Luckily he found us 80 km north of Cape Town, but not so luckily it cost him R800. Our ‘bus’ was actually a large scale safari vehicle named ‘Ella’, built for African off-road driving and yet having zero suspension; our tour group was an international mix dominated by Swiss. After a brief stop in a traditional bushman’s camp, we headed hundreds of kilometres north to the Cedarburg Nature Reserve where we camped in a vineyard under a full moon, then through serious Boer farm country, through little mining towns, over Namaqualand and the Orange River to the Namibian border. Along the way we stopped in small dorpies and camped by the Orange River where we swam against the strong current while trying to avoid leaches, surrounded on one side by the barren, black flat top mountains of the Namib Desert and on the other by the cultivated agriculture of South Africa.

The next morning we crossed the border into Namibia, which was a slow and needlessly bureaucratic endeavor. On the other side, the massive Namib Desert (90,000 square km)and the world’s second oldest loomed, all black stone flat top mountains and grey parched plains (the area receives less than 10 mm annual rain fall- take THAT Vancouver!) that eventually transition into red and then golden sand dunes. The desert is completely flat, in some directions as far as the eye can see, except of course for the mountains, which are also flat topped. While it is really beautiful in a totally lunar way, the idea of ever being stranded there is terrifying, worse so because it is riddled with snakes and scorpions - and this was to be our home for the next week.

First stop was Fish River Canyon, the world`s second biggest and Africa’s largest. So often in Africa I see the most incredible places and I wish there were words to do justice when describing them to my friends back home…but there just isn`t the adequate verbiage; this is one of those places. To give you an idea of the size, the canyon is 160 km long, 27 km wide and 550 m deep, and as with its Grand American counterpart, a river runs through it. In summer, temperatures reach 48 degrees, but luckily for us there was some overhead cloud on this particular day. We ended up braaing (BBQ-ing) dinner on the rim of the canyon, entertained by the most incredible sunset of my life.

The next day, we collapsed our dusty two-man (but three occupied) tent and headed off on a ride so bumpy it was almost concussion inducing, across rock strewn desert trails to the 50,000 square km Namib Naukluft National Park, Africa’s largest game park. Here the colours turned golden – the rocks were gold, the (dead) grass was gold, the earth was rust red, the trees were a golden green. From here we hiked into another canyon, this time called Seisrim, which was also amazing but in a different way. It looked like it should have been in the Middle East rather than Africa with it high, strangely shaped walls. It was like walking through a sun dappled crevice in the earth. The canyon isn`t even visible from the surface until the last couple of feet, and then all of a sudden it opens beneath you. That evening we camped in another desert spot, complete with tumble weeds and whirlwinds, enjoying a bottle of wine and another gorgeous African sunset over the distinct flat top trees…and watched as antelopes and springboks crept into our camp to forage for food. Later that night we had a visit from a brown hyena and one camper was lucky enough to find a large black scorpion… which brings me to the fact that when you wake up in the middle of the night in a tent in the desert and nature calls, it is not only annoying but kind of scary. Since tents must be zipped at all times, the scorpions can’t come in…but they, and snakes, can both be waiting for you in front of your flap and if you are bare foot…well…I don`t want to think about it.

The next morning`s 4 am wake up call was painful. Thirty minutes later we were waiting at the entrance to the famous Sossusvlei Dunes, the world’s tallest and basically the model sand dunes you see in most calendars, posters, post cards and magazines. Dune 45 in particular holds the title of world’s most photographed sand dune. Our mission: to hike to the top to watch sunrise over the towering red dunes of the Namib. From the base it looked like an easy 200 metre hike up. No problem, I thought. Wrong! Hiking 200 plus metres up a steep 170 metre high dune with powder fine sand falling away under your feet is exhausting! But when I finally reached the top and surveyed the scene below, it was worth the pain. We were surrounded on three sides by massive red dunes for as far as the eye could see, sparkling under the golden rays of the sun as it began its daily climb. Below us spread a massive ancient clay pan. When we were done taking a million photos and the sun had risen, we tumbled down the steep side of the dune, falling and rolling and laughing in the sand. At the foot of the dune we hopped in a little safari jeep for a ride through the desert to Deadvlei, an ancient flood plain covered in fossilized tree stumps. Along the way we passed ostrich, oryx and springboks seeking shelter from the blistering sun under the few scarce trees. Hiking through more desert to the plain, I felt like a character in a ‘lost in the desert’ movie. Even though it was barely 8 am, it was already more than 40 degrees, and the sun reflecting off the red sand was relentless. Deadvlei seriously looked like the surface of the moon, a really bizarre sight well worth the hike. On the drive back we again spotted plenty of game: flocks of ostriches, antelope, oryx and Mountain zebras.

Later that day we headed to a private farm, set between golden mountains for a final night of desert camping. Here we met a bushman guide who took us though the fields tracking micro desert life such as baboon spiders (as much as I hate spiders, these are kind of cute – they live below a trap door in the ground which they pull shut) and told us about local bushpeople traditions. That night, surrounded by kokerblom and aloe trees, zebras visited our campsite, walking between our tents as they sought their watering hole. A leopard has also been known to hang around the site but luckily decided not to pay a visit on this particular date.

By this point in the tour everyone was suffering from horrendous desert dust inhalation allergies…the wheezing, sneezing and sniffling was getting pretty out of control, as were the snoring noises coming from most tents at night.

Throughout the tour we stopped in lots of funny little desert villages with populations less than 20, such as Solitaire (another stop off on the Jolie-Pitt Namibia trail), famous for it’s apple pie, and another dorpie whose name escapes me but was filled with excessive amounts of taxidermy and famous for its biltong.

Next up, we headed over more desert trails, crossing Henry Miller's Tropic of Capricorn en route to the Atlantic coast. It was strange scenery with the desert continuing right to ocean’s edge, so there is no real ‘beach’. And from the ‘beach’, there is nothing but flat desert for as far as the eye can see. The first stop was Walvis Bay, a nondescript little seaside holiday town where we found a massive red jellyfish washed up on the shore. The Atlantic here is a deep, twinkling sapphire blue, a really beautiful colour that contrasts against the caramel coloured sand…but the seashore itself was nothing special.

Thirty km down the road lies Swakopmund, a place Fabian and I (as Germanics) found hilarious. I should start by telling you that Namibia is a former German colony dating back to the scramble for Africa. So here in the middle of the desert and wildest Africa, surrounded by thousands of km's of sand dunes and with mostly unpaved sand streets lies this perfect little German town, and I mean straight out of Deutschland. The people are German, the language is German, the food and beer is all German, streets and buildings have German names, and the buildings are all Bavarian. For someone who has spent a significant part of her life in Germany…well, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It gets incredibly foggy here and is actually cold by Namibian standards, never more than 25 degrees. The town is filled with quaint historic buildings, and has an old red lighthouse and picturesque seaside cottages. On one side you can see the massive sand dunes of Sandwich Harbour which lead right into the ocean, on the other the Skeleton Coast stretches out for hundreds of miles. We explored this awesome little town for a few days (civilisation was welcome after sleeping in desert tents for a week) and ventured up the Skeleton Coast to visit one of the famous shipwrecks. The Skeleton Coast earned its name through the many, many wrecks caused by stormy Atlantic waters. When sailors lucky enough to survive made it ashore, they perished instead from thirst in the Namib Desert. The same applies to animals – many starve to death in this region. On the day of our visit a baby jackal lay dying on the sand. I desperately wanted to help but it was too far gone. There were also random bones (probably seal or whale) scattered on the beach. Such is the harsh reality of life in this treacherous but beautiful region.

Because Swakopmund is the adventure capital of southwest Africa, we decided to spice up our lives by going quadbiking on the sand dunes outside of town. I should have known that having personally never operated a quad bike (I back-seated once in Santorini which was awesomely fun), the massive golden sand dunes of Dorob National Park were probably not the wisest place to start. I almost set a new record for stalling (*ahem* nine times) though was told not to fret because ‘Chinese people are worse’. Manoeuvring those things through sliding sand is hard, and I kept feeling like I would tip as I scooted across the sides of dunes. Some dunes had sheer drops of more than 100 metres, and on these I wimped out and asked the very cute and terribly flirtatious guide…hmmm...to take me down on the back of his. It was so much fun but really scary at times. The desert looked like the setting for Lawrence of Arabia. As the sun began to set over the dunes we headed towards the ocean. Perched atop the last hill overlooking the water we watched as the bright pink sun sunk over the golden sand and sapphire water. It was so breathtakingly beautiful.

With our adventure drawing to an end, we headed to Namibia’s capital Windhoek, about five hours east of Swakopmund. En route we were stopped by one of the ubiquitous road patrols – they were everywhere and we couldn’t figure out what all these road checks could possibly be for. Turns out it was power tripping local ‘police’ looking to procure bribes. Despite being in the middle of the country they made us show our passports and we had to sit for 20 minutes while they passed them around. They even threatened one guy who only had South African ID saying they were going to throw him in jail. The way these men were posturing was really pathetic – good to see BEE at work. I have to say, we encountered a lot of really sour people of all denominations in Namibia. In fact, we could only really recall two or three people who were even friendly by trip`s end. Between us we had a German, a South African and a Canadian, so it’s not like they were expressing a dislike for a particular accent or country. Perhaps the desert hardens the people. Who knows, but they provided the singular disappointment on an otherwise fantastic journey.

Anyway, we were in for a surprise in Windhoek: it was spotlessly clean. If you have travelled in Africa at all, you know this is not the norm for a city here. It is a very pleasant (though uncomfortably hot) little place full of pretty churches and boulevards named for autocratic dictators internationally despised yet admired by the Namibian government. We walked around the government buildings and visited a historic fort and museum, but eventually the heat of the day drove us to the local shopping mall for respite.

On our return trip the national border was once again a total nightmare. At 4 am the authorities made all 50 people debark our bus, searching every suitcase one by one until no bag remained unopened. Obviously the border staff were bored.

For the most part, we loved Namibia. It is so spectacular, dramatic and remote – the scenery in both the desert and on the coast is incredible. It may be the most stunning country I have visited and is a really special place. It`s a shame about the people. But even they couldn’t ruin an utterly magical trip, taken with good friends and on which more friends were made. I feel privileged to have visited Nambia – it really is that amazing.

The Seychelles- Mahe, Praslin, La Digue, Moyenne and Cerf Islands

The two month summer break provided a good opportunity for further exploration of Africa. Itching to use my new snorkel, craving the obscure and intrigued by the settlements off Africa`s east coast, we decided to head for the Seychelles, a chain of 115 equatorial islands 1600 km beyond Kenya in the Indian Ocean.

Spread over one million square km, the Seychelles archipelago is comprised of tiny islands with a total population of just 88,000. While technically Africa, they feel far more Caribbean in flavour. The people are Creole, a blend of French, Indian, African and Asian spanning hundreds of years and many generations, and the three official languages are Creole, French and English (the latter two thanks to colonisation in the 1800s) – with Creole being the most widely used. With their Rastafarian dreads, love of reggae, laid back manner and exotic looks the people made me think most of Jamaica.

The equatorial location makes for an incredibly steamy, humid climate – on any given day there is generally a mix of thundering tropical downpours, low hanging cloud and brilliant blue skies. This translates to lush, verdant, almost teeming plant life – including banana trees, frangipani and hibiscus and the Coco de Mer x-rated palm trees, which I will explain later. The larger islands feature narrow two lane roads characterized by hairpin turns that wind, twist and turn through rainforests. These roads are not for the easily car sick.

Mahe and Praslin are very mountainous, with granite peaks towering above the tree line and giant boulders casually scattered throughout the islands – in people’s yards, by the roadsides and along the beaches. More than 50% of the (very few) inhabited islands are dedicated national parks and nature reserves, so plants, bugs and animals run the show. Regarding wildlife, giant Aldabra tortoises can be head groaning loudly throughout the islands, and lizards and geckos are constantly underfoot – and in your food, since I found a gecko hanging out in my cookie box while snacking one evening. While there are lots of colourful birds flitting around, bats are far more common and can be seen flying overhead at the beaches and heard twittering in the trees after dark. The islands are also rife with massive snails. At first I wondered why there were giant seashells scattered around non-beach areas, then I realized they were in fact giant snails.

We chose to make our home base on Mahe, the largest island (which is still tiny) and from there visited four other islands: La Digue, Praslin, Cerf and Moyenne. Mahe is covered by a comprehensive bus service which makes it easy to explore. The buses are old, blue and slightly rusty (with zero suspension) and barrel along the narrow roads taking the steep hairpin turns at top speed, mowing down passing motorists. Taking the bus was like riding a roller coaster- at times terrifying, but always exhilarating. Plus, at five rupees a trip it was the only bargain to be found in the islands. We did opt to rent a car one day, and driving with these buses turned out to be a pretty intense experience.

We stayed at a little beach front guesthouse in Beau Vallon, a small town three km from the capital city of Victoria. It was a nice area though the food selection was not great. Then again, the food everywhere was ridiculously overpriced and mediocre at best. From Beau Vallon we visited some incredibly beautiful beaches, including Anse Major, Anse Takanaka and Anse Intendence. Most are quite hard to access and include hour plus hikes along lush, overgrown rainforest trails, where a sudden clearing through the trees reveals a beach spreading before you. The beaches were a little different then I expected, and swimming could be challenging thanks to really strong currents and undertow. Many people, including one of the Seychellois prime ministers have drowned or been dragged out to sea. It is definitely the strongest I have yet to feel. Also, the waves are huge, so shells and coral wash up on the shores crushed, unlike in Zanzibar where you find really incredible intact seashells on the beaches. The sand is more golden than white and is not as fine-grained as I had hoped. Because the main islands are granitic, there are massive rocks and boulders strewn on most beaches, some in really outlandish, almost lunar shapes, which makes them totally unique and unlike anywhere else. There is a lot of greenery and plant life since most are surrounded by rainforest, so you feel much more in nature. On the more protected snorkelling beaches, the water is so crystal clear you can see tropical fishes swimming around your feet almost immediately. Medium size crabs skittering across the sand are a common sight, as are massive sea turtles and flying fish that skim across the surface of the water at high speeds for up to a minute at a time. We were lucky enough to see hundreds of the flying fish on a boat trip between islands – they make for an unusual sight, and at first I didn't quite believe what I was seeing.

As Victoria is the hub for all traffic through the island, we ended up there for brief periods on most days. When it rained the hardest – intense, roof crushing tropical downpours - we decided to explore the city since beach visits were futile. It’s cute and clean though not an exciting spot – there are no hotels or nightlife, but this is hardly surprising since no one travels to the Seychelles to see the city. It is still very colonial – there are French and British influences including a miniature Big Ben, an old mission and stone clock tower and typical 19th century tropical architecture. It also has a really nice botanical gardens with giant tortoises and lovely flowers.

We tried to visit Le Jardin du Roi spice garden in Les Canelles, which entailed a 1.5 hour bus trip to the south of the island and then a 1 km hike up a hill so steep, it could have been a black diamond ski run. When we finally reached the top, we were feeling pretty good about our accomplishment in 37 degree steamy heat. But upon arrival, the owner decided she didn’t feel like opening that day…so that was a painful bust. More successful was a visit to the ruins of an old slave school in the Mission just outside of Sans Soucis at the very top of Mahe. From the lookout you could see any number of the islands below and gorgeous beaches and lush rainforest for miles. Down the road we found an old tea plantation and factory, also an interesting spot to visit. And on our last day we lazed around at the Ephelia Resort just past La Misere, set in a mangrove forest with a tiny private beach called Anse L’Islette.

Praslin, the second largest island feels even lusher than Mahe, which is pretty difficult to imagine. It is about an hours sail by catamaran and has one small town, Baie St Anne. Again, it is mountainous and very steep and is covered in thick rainforest. Even the water around Praslin seems emerald coloured – adding to the effect that the whole island is shades of green. From the ferry dock, you can see thousands of tropical fish in the water below. The traffic at the port is a mix of gypsy style Creole ships and massive, luxury catamarans rented by wealthy visitors for island hopping. Praslin`s main attraction is the Vallee de Mai National Park rumoured since the 1700s to be the location of the biblical Garden of Eden. Besides being stunning, the park’s claim to fame is that it is the home of the rare Coco de Mer palm tree. What is so special about this palm tree? Well, it has male and female versions; the male is large and extremely…phallic. The female…cannot even be described politely.

We also took a boat to the tiny, tropical paradise of La Digue, which I loved so much that I am at a loss for words. There are no vehicles on the island other than utility trucks, so all transportation is either by ox cart or rented bicycle. It is populated with quaint little guest houses interspersed with vanilla plantations and rainforests. A reef surrounds the beaches, making the water calm enough for really great snorkelling. Sadly, the coral is no longer as colourful as other spots due to lingering damage from the tsunami and climate change, but the fish are gorgeous and if you’re lucky you might spot a giant sea turtle. There is also a scattering of historically important buildings and of course, an Aldabra tortoise colony. We rode on our rusty old bicycles through the historic park, vanilla plantation and old cemetery to the main attraction, the world’s top rated beach Anse Source d’Argent, and….wow. It was so beautiful, we just stood there laughing for the first few minutes. The whitest sand, the clearest water through which you could see the coral and fish just from standing on the shore, massive palm trees providing much needed shade, and huge granite rocks carved by the tides to resemble giant shells and providing miniature private inlets all along the beach. La Digue is unarguably paradise. One local sat on the beach weaving hats from palm leaves, another sold fresh coconuts, papayas, start fruits and mangoes. We spent much of our time there snorkelling and managed to burn our back sides so badly neither of us could sleep on them for a week. It literally broke my heart to leave and I hope I make it there again some day. Sailing back to Mahe, our boat was accompanied by flying fish for the duration and we watched one of the most spectacular sunsets I have ever seen. It was another one of life’s perfect moments, and I felt lucky bearing witness to something so beautiful.

After eight days of in depth exploration Johannes was exhausted by my travel Nazi antics, so I left him at the hotel and joined a tour on a tiny glass bottom boat to two further islands, Cerf and Moyenne. Moyenne, the only privately owned island in the Seychelles, is held by Brendan Grimshaw, an 86 year old Brit. He bought if for 10,000 GBP in the 1970s, and has since devoted his life to creating a nature reserve and sanctuary. Media refer to him as the real life Robinson Crusoe, which seems pretty apt. On his little island, tortoises rule and have the right of way at all times which is sweet but means that the smell isn’t great. There are also a number of old pirate graves dating back hundreds of years, and the standard accompanying legend of hidden treasure. They suspect it is buried with a pirate but it is illegal to dig up a grave and therefore will remain a mystery.

Surrounding Iles Moyenne and Cerf is the protected St. Anne Marine National Park. Here there is some great deeper water snorkelling which I enjoyed except for cutting my ankle quite badly on the ship's propeller, leading to remembrances of Praslin's fatal bull shark attacks last year. From the boat we tossed bread into the water and watched the tropical fish feeding frenzy that ensued beside us.

We also cruised around Ile Longue, until recently the jail island from which prisoners often swam to Victoria to buy booze and cigarettes. They have since relocated the facilities, realizing that imprisoning criminals in a tropical paradise with full beach access doesn’t exactly discourage breaking the law. We finished our little tour at Ile au Cerf , a small island in the Marine Park with average beaches, where we had a locally cooked Creole buffet lunch. I was sad that on the second last day of our stay, I had finally found the best food – local coconut fish curry, squash salad, papaya ice cream…it was really good.

On the final day we rented a car and drove the circumference of Mahe, and through many of the rainforests and mountain ranges in between. It is impressive how non-touristy the Seychelles have remained. Even Mahe, the hub of the islands is more than 50% protected rainforest. Driving, one passes through many tiny local villages, past beautiful old churches, mangrove forests and of course amazing beaches, many of which feel totally undiscovered and pristine. The locals live well and the Seychelles have the highest HDI ranking in Africa. There are no townships, but rather sizeable, colourful colonially inspired houses with lovely gardens and long, steep drive ways often at 100 degree angles. You will need a good set of brakes to live here!

In conclusion, I loved the Seychelles. It felt really relaxing to be so deeply immersed in nature for ten days. The beaches are spectacular and the rainforests so dense and alive. To visit feels as if you have discovered a secret tropical hideaway, far from mass civilisation. Plus La Digue might just be the most beautiful tropical island in the world. However, to travel here is really, really expensive. The tourist board has carefully selected a target market of honeymooners and wealthy Europeans in an attempt to retain both exclusivity and stop the environmental ravages that accompany mass tourism. The value for money isn`t great – you pay Euros for most items and even by Euro standards they are expensive. And there is no justification for the terrible state of the food (Ile au Cerf excepted). But if you have the money and feel like travelling to islands that are literally thousands of miles from anywhere, these would be the ideal place to come.