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.
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