Soussevlei is Namibia's number one attraction. Beige shifted to orange and the acacia trees of 'Africa' started to appear. Buses lined up, campgrounds had 'overflow' sections and we crossed paths with more people in one spot than in the entire country up until then. Waking up at sunrise it was easy to see why. Towering sand dunes glow red in that light, and dead trees in salt pans make everyone exceptional photographers.
Getting there even provided an adrenalin rush - driving ourselves meant hitting our first sand dunes in Landy. The blood pressure rose as we passed not one but three vehicles stuck axle deep. She made it in and out again without a hitch, so we swapped drivers and went back to do it again!
It was our first brush with angry authorities too. Signage clearly indicated that park gates shut at 6.45pm, but when we got to some dunes in the late afternoon there was a super friendly South African tour guide perched there. He was waiting for a photographer out in the sand. With a fridge full of cold drinks and lots of stories to tell, we got carried away chatting with him, missed the dune sunset ourselves and got back to the car in the dark. An hour after that, having been overtaken by tour guide and left out on the road alone, we arrived at a locked gate. Girl went door knocking to the houses nearby and was pointed to that of the gatekeeper.
Gatekeeper was ropeable; putting girl through a 15 minute ordeal that had her seriously concerned it would be her first chance to pay an African bribe. When it got more heated girl started laughing at the absurdity of it all (don't ever do that!). Furious we'd stayed behind to take pictures, the irony was that after all of the talking and drinking not a single picture was actually taken! We were eventually saved by said tour guide who, after flying past us, had stopped again to take some shots in the dark. His arrival 20mins after ours provided enough of a rage to let us off the hook and out of the gate.
From there, Solitaire was famous for apple strudel. We ate one and stayed two nights; soaking in the pool and drinking more cold beverages. After our days in the desert, it was bliss. We were still in the desert of course, but in the desert with a pool.
Continuing north, Namibia's cosmopolitan capital is at the crossroads of the country and marked the halfway point of our journey through the land of diamonds. A chance to get some culture on and some socializing in. We rolled into town late afternoon and sought out famous backpacker lodges, with the goal of meeting some like minds. They were both full, so we scrounged around for a third option.
At 'Paradise Gardens' we were greeted by a disheveled German lady with bleached white hair and a dog to match. Indicating the yard available for campers, she spied an ominous cylinder on the ground. Picking it up she declared it was a sock. "A sock my dog has eaten and now shit out". The camp ground tour continued with sock nugget in hand. We opted for a poolside cabana upgrade. Well away from the dog turds.
Craving some travelers stories, girl descended upon the kitchen. A young bunch of German students were gathered. Fresh faced and out to save the world, they'd come to Namibia to do internships in Africa. Having proudly boasted of the days they'd spent on projects to 'help' these people, conversation turned to girl.
Girl explained that she'd only arrived that day and was on her way through Africa. "And what is the purpose of this journey?" asked one. The response being quite honestly that the journey was the purpose. They were unimpressed. With nothing to offer those single handedly saving the world, she was readily dismissed. Krept back to the cabana to guy, left to contemplate purpose.
With the fun places booked and enough time to have done some shopping and seen some sights, there wasn't much reason to stick around. We hit the road bound again for the coast.
At Walvis Bay we met some Dutchies with a truck on their way through Africa. We hit it off and then hit the town, in hope of finding some locals who might take us to a spot called Sandwich Harbour.
The search was a success. We purchased permits and were met the next day by Gerry and his F250, a jeep and 14 other people. This time we REALLY hit the dunes. We got stuck, got out and got stuck again. We screamed, laughed and screamed some more. Eventually the going got too tough and the Landy was left in the sand. Everyone piled into the massive Ford and from there the dunes became huge. Trying to film it resulted in much footage of peoples laps and a soundtrack of more screams. At the top, the view was spectacular as dunes met the sea hundreds of metres below.
Sundowners in the sand, cheese platters and some hair raising moments as we sped along the beach trying to beat the dark and the tide back to town.
It was a day that couldn't be beaten: the hospitality, kindness, adrenalin and views were priceless. To say thanks???
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After such a rush in the dunes, sticking around was a pleasure. We found flamingo in some smaller dunes and took a boat cruise to see more birds. Having had our twitching fix, we turned our attention to the flora of the region, aiming for the Welwitchia trail near Swakopmund.
The Welwitchia's live in a zone that gets less than 20mm of rain a year. They only ever grow two leaves, and some of them are 2000 years old. A destination in themselves, the drive to find them was also a sight.
Along the way, salt flats provided an incidental tour. Asking permission to take photos ended in being breath tested and admitted to the salt mine. Without hi-vis or a site induction, and with plenty of friendly staff who were eager to show us how it all worked. We wish we'd asked to drive the loader! Namibian hospitality remains second to none.
We passed lichen fields, where ground dwellers live off the fog from the sea and the self explanatory moon landscape, stopping to show off some of our own craters on moonscapes. (Thank us later!)
We camped in the middle of nowhere, watched the real moon rise and then leapt out of bed at the arse crack of dawn when a baboon barked from the hill behind us. The food box was out and we weren't about to lose our stuff again! (Nothing gets girl moving like the prospect of missing breakfast!)
It was lonely, windswept expanses from as we hit the Skeleton Coast. From sunny and hot to freezing under the fog within a few kilometres. As the road wended north the fog got thicker and the scenery positively eerie. It's no surprise the Portuguese called it "the gates of hell". Capsizing a boat and landing here would definitely seal your fate. Ironic, because the other kind of seal thrives here.
Around 100 thousand Cape Fur seals call it home in a single, massive colony. They're a sight to behold and a stench unforgettable. Watching them fight, bark, play, sleep, suckle, swim and do anything was fascinating. A whole day almost disappeared. We were ready to head back when out of the sea hobbled a pup with plastic twine scoring his neck. He looked miserable. Every few steps stopping to scratch at the wound. He placed himself away from the group and sat, weeping and rubbing at his neck. It was heartbreaking.
A quick call to the lodge yielded the number of the park manager, but Sunday afternoon and they weren't interested. "Get him tomorrow" meant leaving him was a death sentence. Having walked out there, we didn't have supplies. We gathered a sharp stone to cut the plastic string, then lost our nerve. The info sheet said seal stampedes kill pups. We didn't want that on our hands.
We stood around for ages scheming, but the stars aligned when a local showed up. He happily handed us a knife, told us we'd never get close to the seal, then jumped the barrier and headed towards the beach without causing a stampede. The struggling pup had moved further away and it was now or never.
It would be nice to say things went with Steve Irwin precision. Our quick planning session meant we'd get close, slip between him and the others, toss a jacket over him to stop him, hold him down, cut the twine and be done in seconds. The reality was slightly different.
His instincts said we were looking at him like he was prey. Accordingly, he bolted before we were close. The jacket fell short but girl got a grip. Seal turned and latched onto her inner arm. After much squirming, biting, howling and near escapes, guy retrieved the jacket, put it on seal's head and girl sat on seal.
Firmly pinned, the damage was gruesome up close. Cutting deep into flesh, getting under the string wasn't easy. It definitely didn't happen in seconds but eventually the gnarly twine was in hand and the seal was free. He ambled off to the group and disappeared in seconds. Hopefully to lead a long seal life.
Up next: Wending North