Breakfast was composed of some rice krispies cereal and toast, eaten out in the freezing cold. I didn't mind, considering how drastic of a change it was from my usual. At the reception, I tried to change as many of my Namibian dollars into South African Rand, so that I could pay the border tax when I got to Botswana- hopefully averting another cash disaster. Finally, when I thought I was finally ready to hit the road, I realized that I didn't have my sunglasses and was relieved to find that they had braved the cold night on a shelf at the bar after some good Samaritan had found them. With all my belongings now found and in place, I popped another CD in the stereo and sped east out of Windhoek, passing the airport that lies surprisingly far from the city, and towards Gababis- the only major town between the capitol and the border.
The scenery that I found once I had left the hills of Windhoek was defined by flat expanses of dry grass interrupted by many bushy trees. It was to be the landscape of the next three days.
After a couple hours I arrived in Gobabis, where I filled up my tank and continued on with only about 1.5 hours until the border. There, I made my way quickly through immigration on the Namibian side and passed by a friendly sign thanking me for my visit. Soon after, I was faced with Botswanian border control. It was quite straightforward, and I was even able to get rid of my Namibian dollars by paying my car tax with them! It was thrilling.
The first major difference that I noticed upon entering Botswana was the lack of fencing along the highway, which resulted in myriad animals of varying species occupying the road and inopportune moments. In spite of this fact, the local Botswanians in front of me drove at a furious pace and would helpfully slow down and put their hazard lights on in the event of a nearby animal. The road itself was well maintained and paved and had occasional places to rest and eat lunch.
Though there are far fewer large towns in Botswana, a bunch of small villages make up for the difference. On both sides of the road I passed small outposts of thatched-roofed huts with no roads or facilities, populated by individuals donning colorful African garb and riding donkeys to herd their livestock. It didn't take long for me to realize that Botswana was a far less wealthy country than Namibia.
It took about 2 more hours to get to Ghanzi, the only large town I would visit in Botswana. It too had a dirt roads, but boasted two supermarkets and a bunch of buildings including a gas station and bank, where I withdrew some local currency, called Pula. I grabbed some lunch from the trunk of the car in front of the bank, which was a out of place looking Barclays, before quickly touring the town by car and getting back on the highway, hoping to visit D'Khar, a San people town with a museum and crafts. It took about 20 minutes to finally get to the town, and when I arrived I found that everything was closed, as it was a Sunday.
Faced with what had been a boring and uneventful day, a spirit of adventure began whispering in my ear. It calculated how much time I had to be in Upington and suggested that maybe I could manage to go all the way around Botswana and back to South Africa instead of cutting through the monotonous Kalahari. After all, I was used to driving long distances, wasn't I? It would be fun to find places to stay and see the whole of Botswana in a matter of 4 days!
I took out my maps and started doing some calculating of my own and, finding that there were immense distances included in that route and not too much to see even then, I turned back from D'Khar and headed to my campsite in Thakadu Camp, about 5 minutes south of Ghanzi.
This camping area had been recommended by my guide and after a short drive on a rough unpaved road, on which I spotted some large game animals, I was speaking with Chris, the good-humored burly red-faced English-accented Zambian who owned and ran the place. He gave me the run down of the property, which is about 5,000 acres and was converted to a game reserve and camping spot 10 years ago after he had used the land for a dairy farm since 1988. In addition to camp sites, the place has a restaurant, bar, and watering hole illuminated by floodlights to show of the game at sunset. The place was so nice, in fact, that none other than Hugh Grant and Prince Henry had stayed there- and Chris had pictures to prove it. I immediately knew I had chosen well.
I set up camp quickly and spent some time reading and listening to, you guessed it, Catch 22, before walking back to the reception/restaurant/bar, where I chatted with Chris while sipping a rum and tonic. As it got later, locals from Ghanzi arrived and ordered dinner. Realizing that this was also a favorite place of the locals, I decided to eat dinner there and ordered a Kudu steak and mashed potatoes. When the wild game dinner arrived, I enjoyed every bite of it.
It got late and, remembering the lack of a fire at my previous camping nights, got some firewood and had a nice long fireside evening. I'd like to think that I was pondering the mysteries of the universe as I poked and prodded the orange flames, but I recall those fireside thoughts being much more down to earth. Soon the flames devolved into embers and I decided to retire. It was a long, freezing night, but I managed to get some shut-eye.
The evening before I had spoken to Chris about my route and we had both agreed that four nights in the Kalahari was definite overkill. With that in mind, I awoke ready to drive all the way to a border town, skipping the village and town that I had planned on sleeping in. The day started off hilariously when Chris' pet lamb came into the bathroom as I was showering, bleating loudly as other campers tried to shoo it away. It was a uniquely rural experience.
Soon I was packed up and driving down the dirt road again. I turned back onto the highway and made for Tshabong, the border town I had decided on staying in. To my dismay, the 6+ hour drive resulted in nearly no change in scenery, though I did manage to see a bunch of animals. including a large African eagle, a bunch of birds ranging in color from bright red to aqua blue, and the occasional ostrich and wild horse.
Halfway through the trip, I went into a small town to find a mechanic, since earlier in the morning I had spotted my exhaust pipe hanging slightly from the chassis. After searching for a while, I settled on a welder I had spotted. To my delight, he said that the problem was not serious and the pipe was not about to fall off, but he couldn't fix it. Happy that I was not in danger but bothered that the problem persisted, I continued on my route, though I cut out all the dirt road shortcuts I had considered. It was another 3 or 4 hours before I finally arrived at the turn off for Berrybush farm, the lodge that Chris had recommended.
Berrybush lies on the outskirts of Tshabong at the end of a long, sandy road. I didn't realize just how sandy this road was and if it weren't for the momentum I had built up, I would have once again found Aslan stuck in the sand. Luckily I just barely made it through and was soon shaking the hand of Jill, a petite blond woman with premature wrinkles from her habit of smoking.
Coincidentally she was also a Zambian and treated me very kindly as well, giving me a double bed room for a low price. The room itself was pretty hilarious, with its exposed brick walls, bare light bulb, and blanket made out of animal fur.
I took a brief walk around the small property, not spotting any of the Springbok that Jill had mentioned lived on the premises, and returned to my room, where I read some more Karamazov, since I had finished Catch 22 on the way down. At about 7, Jill knocked on my door and announced that dinner was ready. As an appetizer, we watched some TV with her friend/son/boyfriend (I'm unsure which it was) and she soon served up a delicious meal of Shepard's Pie, salad, and vegetables. I really appreciated the meal as well as the company. After dinner, we watched Survivor as Jill's many dogs ran all over the place.
Soon it was time for bed and I thanked Jill enthusiastically for the meal and the accommodation, which she said were a pleasure to provide, and headed back to the room. It was amazing to me that Jill had lived on and run the place for 28 years- I can't imagine doing anything for that long! After getting ready for bed, my eyelids grew heavy with thoughts of entering South Africa once again the next day with two days before I had my reservations in Upington.
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