Kolmanskop & Luderitz, Namibia:
The pamphlet clutched in my hand reads, “Diamonds were discovered in this area of Namibia in 1908 while keeping railway lines clear. A diamond rush ensued and so rich were the deposits that diamonds could be picked up freely by crawling on one’s hands and knees. Fortunes were made, lost, and remade. Stones were gambled and used as currency, facilities grew to support the miners and steadily structures emerged from the sand, giving birth to Kolmanskop.”
I wander in fascination around this ghost town and imagine what life was like. I marvel at the concert hall and bowling alley and wander up a hill to where a large, concrete above-ground swimming pool with a commanding view stands empty. Is that a spirit standing tall on the well-worn wooden diving board? I turn to look out over what’s left of the deserted town, and the endless desert that is slowly consuming it, and when I turn back, I am alone.
Mining ended here in the late 1930’s though the town continued to be used as a transport depot and the hospital remained open until 1956.
Not far away, the colonial port town of Luderitz has a pretty harbour dotted with sailboats and sand-dune shores. We sit in the sun and enjoy a seafood lunch and I find an internet café to email home, which seems very far away.
Into the Namib Desert:
Off again aboard the Beast on a foggy, drizzly morning with nothing but gravel roads and barren landscapes as far as the eye can see. I plug into the MP3 player my musical son presented me before my departure. Enjoying his eclectic selection of music as it carries me pleasantly along, I wonder how things are going at home, and feel a pang of guilt for not having given home much thought.
Suddenly, our Captain pulls the Beast over to show us a huge and odd-looking bird’s nest wrapped around the branch of a tree. The Sociable Weavers nest boasts rows of holes like some birdie condo. He tells us the nests can grow so massive they break the branch and can get so hot inside from the accumulation of droppings they spontaneously combust, burning the entire tree to the ground. Our cranky Captain then announces, “You need to walk now!” Then he proceeds to drive off, leaving us to trudge up the deserted road swatting at flies and muttering amongst ourselves, eventually catching up to the Beast where he and our Camp Assistant have been relaxing while letting the truck engine cool.
Sossusvlei (Waters End), Namib-Naukluft Park, Namibia
Strike Three for the Motorbikes:
An early arrival to camp for the truckers, and no-show bikers leaves us setting up tents, worrying and awaiting news. Another crash and two members of one family are down. Only one is out though, as the fortunate daughter seems to be ok and rides pillion for the remainder of the journey.
Dune 45:
The Namib desert is famous for its red dunes and canyons; described as a living sea of burned and blackened red basalt that spilled out of the earth millions of years ago. The dunes at Sossusvlei reach as high as 300 metres and are part of the oldest and driest ecosystems on earth.
Up before daylight, we are off to Dune 45 for a sunrise climb. The wind is cold and bites my lungs as I ascend along the edge of the dune, slipping backwards with each step. With my heart thumping, I witness the dawn of a new day. In Africa! I am standing on the dune that has graced the desktop of my PC for months. The feeling is surreal, and the incredible beauty of the ever-changing ancient red dunes around me is soul-awakening.
Dead Vlei (Dead Marsh):
Whisked over sand roads by 4×4’s we are left to hike to the ancient ecosystem of Dead Vlei. Our proud, and quirky, Namibian Captain guides us, sharing his knowledge of the flora and fauna as well as teaching us some basic desert survival skills. When I notice (out loud) that he is without a water bottle, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Have you seen the size of my feet?”, he dismisses me with a deadpan face. As if he can, mythically, store water in the giants.
We approach a valley. Below is a bleached-white pan. Dotted across the area is a stand of Camel Thorn Acacia trees, skeletons that are thought to be over 600 years old. We hike down and walk among them quietly. A burl protrudes from one, looking like some intricately formed ancient brain. Africa has much to teach me if I take the time to listen.
Across the Tropic of Capricorn:
After a night in Solitaire (Khomas Region), we continue our journey up washboard gravel roads through a vast and wild landscape. Scrubland, desert, distant mountains, and rock-cut canyons take us across the Tropic of Capricorn, a photo op not to be missed. With cameras draped over our Camp Assistant, we pose at the signpost marking the most southerly latitude at which the sun can appear directly overhead.
As we approach the Atlantic Coast once again, this time at Walvis Bay (Whale Bay), we find ourselves amid a passing sandstorm that creates snow-like drifts across the road. Here we pick up three new adventurers at the airport then forge our way to our next destination, where we will be under rooftops for the next two nights.
Swakopmund, Namibia
Swakopmund is a pretty city on the Atlantic with German-style colonial architecture and a beautiful oceanside setting. We are staying in a community of tiny dwellings within easy walking distance of downtown and the ocean.
Dinner in the Desert:
At dusk, the Beast whisks a small group of us to destination unknown. As the lights of “Swakop” fade, the clear night sky guides us along a lesser traveled sandy road until we come to an abrupt halt. We have come to a railway line that has no vehicle crossing. Filing off the Beast, we pile into the back of pickups that have appeared out of nowhere.
We jostle along a bumpy road and as we approach the scene of our evening events, a song comes to mind: Maria Muldaur’s “Midnight at the Oasis.” In front of us is a huge tent, idyllically set under the stars and full moon, with huge dunes framing it on three sides. There is a bonfire burning and candles glowing in pots around the perimeter of the tent. The only thing missing are the camels.
The tent is cozy; with woven carpets, hand-painted murals, and large comfy cushions set around low-slung round tables which are beautifully set. We settle in and enjoy an evening of good food and wine. An après dinner smoking table is set up with a large multi-stemmed hookah pipe and sweetly scented tobacco fills the room. At the end of the evening, we jovially roll back into the trucks, all in good spirits.
Skeleton Coast
Continuing ever northward, we travel along a salt road on a section of Namibia’s Skeleton Coast. The name refers to the bones that lined the beaches from whaling operations and seal hunts, but more than a few were likely human. The area is referred by the Indigenous San as, “The Land God Made in Anger”. This treacherous coastline is associated with shipwrecks, and stranded sailors walking for days in search of food and water. We stop to look at a run-aground, rusted-out fishing trawler, and to check on three travelers (uninjured) who have had a mishap in their little car. Even the straight and narrow roads of the Skeleton Coast can unforgivingly catch you off guard.
Damaraland Region
The area between the Skeleton Coast and Namibia’s Central Plateau is named after the Indigenous Damara. We stop at a roadside stand where women in brightly coloured traditional garb are selling hand-made souvenirs.
These wide-open spaces are also home to many desert-adapted species. Our Captain stops to show us large round tracks and dung. Elephant! I keep my eyes peeled as we continue but the great beast is long gone. These tracks are just a sneak preview of what’s to come, and I am filled with excitement for the days of discovery still ahead.
To be continued…
