Soon after I had begun the day's trek, I found myself in Namibia's largest private game reserve- I was thrilled to see that the route I was taking took me straight through it. Almost immediately I was faced with signs warning of giraffes and sights of beautiful wildlife. At one point, my way was blocked by a huge herd of Kuru- an African version of elk. I didn't view this interruption with the slightest irritation, though, since I got to take out my binoculars and view the herd of graceful animals as well as spot my first zebras!
Though I was expecting zebras donning purely black and white fur, I found that wild zebras have more of an earthy tone to them- the stripes stained with the reddish brown color of the dirt. Nevertheless I was struck once again with the amazingness of this continent. After all, I was just taking a normal road and yet I was having no difficulty spotting wild game! I looked upon the graceful beasts for a bit longer and eventually felt the tug of my destination pulling me forward. The destination was Sossus- the hop off point to see Namibia's famed dunes.
I had about another hour to drive, but Catch 22 passed the time and I soon found myself at the permit office in Sossus, waiting behind a group of large, irate Africaans men who were yelling at the Namibian woman behind the desk for not taking their word for it that they were in fact Namibians. The scene seemed to escalate endlessly- along with my wait- but eventually they came to an agreement and I was free to buy my day pass, again attracting a curious look from the official with my solitary status.
The first stretch of the 60km road to Sossusvlei was unassuming, void of dunes, but quickly gave way to huge red mounds of grainy Namibian sand on both sides of the road. As I drove along the surprisingly smooth paved road the dunes became larger and larger, surrounding me by the time I got the 2 wheel drive parking lot. To get to Sossusvlei, a large pan in the middle of the dunes, I had to make my way for another 4 km. Thankfully, I managed to hop on a four wheel drive shuttle which was full of Americans, to my surprise. The four young people occupying the swaying and swerving vehicle turned out to be Peace Corps volunteers taking a brief vacation from their posts in Lesotho. They came from all over the US and had all been serving for different amounts of time. A couple had actually extended their two year commitment for another year. I enjoyed talking with them about their experiences for the brief duration of the ride and continued to spot them around the valley when I eventually got there after paying the driver 50 rand and walking the last 400 yards.
Sossusvlei is one of the most amazing places I've ever been to. Its beauty rivals the current leaders of "Most Beautiful Places Derek Has Seen," which are Halstadt, the lakeside town in the Austrian alps, and Columbia University's campus (you can't call me unloyal!). After climbing over one final rusty colored dune, I was faced with a dry pan surrounded by large dunes, covered in hard, white clay that has cracked with dehydration and spotted with dead tree trunks in dramatic contortions. Though there were a handful of tourists around, the isolated nature of the place made me feel like the lone explorer of another planet. I couldn't resist taking copious amounts of photos.
After walking around the pan and seeing almost every tree in it, I attempted a climb up one of the larger dunes on the periphery of the pan. Unfortunately, the attempt failed miserably as I sloshed my way up halfway but ran out of both water and energy, ending the expedition as suddenly as it had begun. regardless, I still managed some good photos from my vantage point.
I felt that I had adequately explored the area and opted to start going back, now that the sun was at its peak and the heat was driving all the other tourists away. Out of my cheapness and sense of adventure I declined to take the shuttle back and decided to walk. It ended up being a little (meaning a lot) longer than I had anticipated. Apparently my conversation on the way there had masked the length of the journey, which I thought would take only 15 minutes, but actually took 45 minutes. Tired and thirsty, I got back to Aslan and drove out of the park, thrilled with the sightseeing for the day.
At the gas station in Sossus I filled up and was informed by the attendant that my fan belt was in danger of snapping, which could potentially leave me stranded. Appreciative of this forewarning, I took his advice to plan on replacing it in Swakopmond- the next day's stop. With such a warning fresh on my mind, I drove off into the unpaved wilderness once more, this time for an hour to get to Solitaire, the small town where I would lay my head for the night.
Again I was faced with a "town" that was composed of a gas station, guest house, and general store. This town, though, also had a bakery, where a man named Moose makes what is touted as the best Apple Crumble in the whole of Africa. He, however, only admits to it being the "best in town," a humble admission indeed. I grabbed a hearty, fresh baked piece and enjoy its divine flavors as I sat out on the lawn of the bakery, fighting off the ravenous birds that eyed the baked good jealously.
I finished off the Apple Crumble and made camp behind the guesthouse. At first, I thought I would be the only person camping, but I was proved wrong when a Spaniard and Swiss guy pitched tent and a lone traveler on a motorcycle arrived. I was immediately intrigued with the image of a tall blonde guy driving a beat up old motorcycle, piled high and wide with camping gear and supplies. As he passed me to go into town, I stopped and talked with him, and I am so glad I did! It turns out that he is a 40 year old Englishman who has, for the past four months, been riding that motorcylce- ALL THE WAY FROM ENGLAND! He's continuing down to Cape Town, where he will turn back and go home by way of Africa's east coast. Needless to say, I was stunned in admiration. He had some good stories, like breaking his clutch in the middle of the Congo, and said that Cameroon was his favorite destination so far, which I look forward to telling Toukam.
After pitching my tent and having my usual spartan dinner, I retired for the evening, hoping to rest better than I did in Hobas, which I did. The next morning I woke, took a gloriously hot shower, and drove northward towards Swakopmond. As I got closer and closer to Walvis Bay, the city before Swakopmond, the road began to improve and I soon found myself at the Tropic of Capricorn! It was an enjuvinating mark of progress.
The rolling hills that had accompanied me since leaving Solitaire soon morphed to a much more desolate landscape, as all shrubbery dissappeared and was replaced with endless sand and rocks- very similar to the first Namibian landscape I witnessed. Soon enough, though, I spotted large, tan dunes in the distance, marking my arrival in Walvis Bay.
Without looking at my map, I drove through the city, which is the second largest in Namibia. It's a port town in a neat grid of numbered streets with colorful and creative houses. Further down the coast, modern beachhouses line the beach and Esplanade Park. I stopped first at the beach, taking in the calm Atlantic Ocean that had been toned down by the extensive sand barriers in the port and spotted, along with some dead jellyfish, some flamingos! Though they were not as pink as conventional flamingos, it was still fun to see them walking around the shallow water.
Now having studied the small map of the city in my tour book, I drove around some more and eventually stopped at an internet cafe, where I made my first update. Soon, though, I was hungry and went next door to the Burger Hut and had my first real cheeseburger since coming to Africa! It was a delicious grilled beauty that did not go skimpy on any of the toppings and was accompanied by some of the best, and greasiest, french fries that I have ever had. It was heavenly.
The day got late and after an unsuccessful attempt to get into the port to look around I took Aslan northward once again on a coastal highway to Swakopmond. The highway alone was a sight to see- pressed up between the crashing Atlantic Ocean and the tall, menacing dunes. The beach became too tempting, and after missing the first turn off, I attempted to get there by the second. This is how Aslan became hopelessly stuck in the sand.
After coming to grips with my stupidity and failing to get out of the sand by my own methods, I locked up the car and started walking to an ATV adventures outpost that I had seen about a half mile back. Miraculously, I was soon alerted to the presence of a Namibian traffic police pickup truck, which had spotted my car and my personage and put two and two together. They offered me a ride back and soon had a rope between my pathetically two wheel drive vehicle and their powerful four wheel drive truck and pulled me out. I was incredibly appreciative and tipped them handsomely. Sadly, it didn't seem like getting stuck in the sand was a rare occurance for tourists. I cursed myself for my sad conformity.
It was only about 10 more minute before I got to Swakopmond, which is a great town that some say is more German than Germany. I disaggree with such a statement, but it is a wonderful town, and I was happy that I would be spending two nights there. After settling down in my hostel, I walked around the town and grabbed a great pizza at the Western Salloon Pizzeria, which boasts the motto- "Go Hard or Go Home". I couldn't agree more.
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