Windhoek - There are times in people’s lives where they have but a moment to reflect if this is a wise decision?
Mostly, it is too late when that reflection occurs; the path of destiny is already being trodden.
Thus it was our odyssey to embark on an adrenalin adventure into the desert, self-driving and camping (with professional dune-driving advisory operators). We began our five-day journey departing from the crossroad hamlet of Solitaire in the east to the shores of Walvis Bay in the west of Namibia. The driving began slowly – the rules being, “follow in my tracks”and to “keep a watch for the vehicle behind you”. We streamed in single file, through coarse, barren brush with a glimpse of Hartmann’s mountain zebra and hunched gemsbok.
Further on, the tufts lessened and the sand filtered through. Up through our first dune, mild in comparison to others later... it was nevertheless disquieting when the wheels spun and the vehicle strained in low-range. Amid laughter and back slapping later, we continued deeper into the desert.
The first night was camping with basic facilities. The weather was hot, the evenings starry and the wood-smoke intoxicating. A shower is a shower no matter the temperature and the evening culminated in laughter, food and wine.
Day two began to change, both in weather patterns and vista, and a respectful awareness that although this was a living desert, not much could survive without the necessary adaptations or, as in the case of man, water. The soft dunes rose higher and higher and undulated for thousands of kilometres; a flat colour of ochre rising sharp on the transverse where the elements had created pointed sculptures. Tyres were deflated, low-range activated again and we were gunning for the top.
The sturdy vehicle strained against the gears and shuddered to summit… up and over… and hanging at a 43o angle on a 103m precipice. Edvard Munch’s The Scream was painted from a Namibian duner’s expression! Inching slowly down, the dunes accompanied our descent with the orchestra from the sand avalanching next to us. A gentle, deep-throbbing groan was the harmony as we levelled out and had us whispering quietly about desert gods.
A nursery of welwitschia nestled on a plateau, watered by inland fog created by the heat of the desert and the incoming cold from the Benguela Current. And then the weather dipped. As we neared the coast, the temperatures dropped from 39 to 12oC and the mist crept in.
Four layers of clothing had us huddled around the bush television of campfire and congratulating ourselves on surviving… so far.
And a bushy-tailed silver fox appeared from nowhere, slithering ghostlike in the shadows. Ever the opportunistic scavenger.
Towards Walvis Bay, our trip culminated with driving on the beach, which was barren and windswept; littered with seal bones and scraggy jackals looking for the next feed.
A wreck of an old ship had housed a hyena pair that scattered seal skulls and rib cages, leaving the remnants lying partly submerged in the dunes.
It was cold and miserable, the stench of carcasses filled the air while gulls, cormorants and jackals tore at the dead, stinking flesh.
The desert is magnificent.
She feeds her charges who have adapted to her harsh demands. Beautiful and powerful, she welcomed us to visit, experience and leave. No outstaying our welcome was tolerated. We thanked her for her hospitality and respectfully withdrew.
Saturday Star
SHARE YOUR TRIP
This is the first in a new feature where you, the reader, will have the opportunity to share your own travel experiences – with your photos and your recommendations.
If you have a travel memory you’d like to share, put it down in fewer than 800 words and include photos if you can. We’d like to keep it informal, so this is not open to professional journalists. We’ll collect the best ones and, in a year’s time, will choose our best Reader Experience. The author will win a nice little prize.
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