The Surreal Landscape of Deadvlei

September 5, 2010

Deadvlei is a surreal landscape of petrified trees and a flat white salt pan, surrounded by brilliant red sand dunes, probably the second most common image of Namibia (behind only the dunes of Sossusvlei). After our incredible morning watching the sun rise from the high perch of Dune 45, we headed further into Namib-Naukluft Park, rolling along the long flat road, passing through a sort of valley, surrounded on both sides by row after row of undulating dunes. Some are up to 200 meters high (660 feet), others a little flatter and wider, all with the picturesque snaking ridge lines running up the front of the mass of sand, creating one half colored in orange by the morning sunlight and the other half still a dark shadow. At the end of this incredibly scenic road lined with dunes numbered on one side from about 1 to 30 and then running back along the road from around 31 to 60, we came to another small parking lot where we met Boesman (the Afrikaans name for Bushman), our guide for the desert walk into Deadvlei. The shoeless white man in his late 30s or early 40s, clad in khaki shorts and shirt, had come highly recommended by our tour guide and driver who had spoken quite well of him. We piled in the back of his open pickup truck for a short drive down the sandy 4WD road, bumping up and down for a few minutes as we continued to pass a few more scenic dunes on each side with random bits of shrub/tumbleweed and even a few small trees here and there.

Coming to a stop, with his strong Namibian/Afrikaaner accent, he beckoned us out of the truck and began to pour out his incredible knowledge of the area. He explained the vegetation, the history, the people, the animals; it seemed there was nothing he didn't know about the area. He showed how the dunes were shaped in the summer by the winds coming from the desert towards the coast and in the winter by the winds coming from the coast to the desert, explaining that those in touch with nature could actually tell directions by the way the curves on the dunes were facing at a certain point during the year (and this is also why this dune field is fairly stagnant, not moving towards or away from the coast). In fact, these dunes come from the sands of the Kalahari, the oldest desert in the world, and they get the red color from little bits of iron in the sand that actually rust. He also mentioned that he'd be walking quickly ahead of us and not to worry about keeping up, as he'd stop along the way to point things out. After his first few steps in the hot sand, we could see that he wasn't kidding, speeding way ahead of us after every stop, showing a plant that opens with a drop of water after laying dormant for long periods of time and telling us so much information about the recent animals having passed through the area based on just a few prints in the sand. With his incredible knowledge gained from his father and growing up in the area, he explained more and more about the desert, and we soon tracked a few bugs up and down one of the small edges of the dune, finding many different tracks left by bugs, spiders, etc.

We then arrived at the edge of Deadvlei, the terminus of our walk, and Boesman explained a little about the area. Vlei simply means 'pan' (as in salt pan), and it got the "Dead" part of its name as it has been cut off from any water by the surrounding closed area of dunes for hundreds of years, leaving scattered, brittle, petrified trees standing where water once reached them between six and nine hundred years ago. As we walked up the small dune closing off Deadvlei from the rest of the area, we looked over the two circular white patches of hard dirt among the soaring red dunes behind it, dotted with a few small black trees, remnants from long, long ago. Walking down the hill into the vlei, the area did take on the other-wordly feel for which it's known, certainly an incredibly unique place. The white ground was caked and cracked, though fairly smooth to my bare feet, and though it looks small in comparison to the huge dunes behind it, walking among the landscape and dead trees gave us a feel for the size, a kilometer or two from end to end. The strong reds, whites and blacks of the area, combined with the isolation, harshness and cloudless blue sky made for some great photos, though they couldn't even capture the odd, yet interesting feel of the place.

We walked around the amazing area for about 30 minutes before heading back to meet up with Boesman and walk back to the truck, learning more and more about the desert through his great stories. He even found us a gecko in the sand, explaining how it would burrow into the sand if it felt the presence of a bird of prey overhead, so he threw his hat perfectly over the lizard, and we watched as it disappeared into the sand below, but that didn't last long as Boesman sprinted up the side of the dune, jumped down and dug it out within a few seconds. Soon after, he found a trap door spider buried in the sand, demonstrating how to open its door and enticing the spider to come up and look for potential food and shutting its door back again, all in less than a second. The most amazing thing about all of this was that despite doing a few tours a week, probably for years and years, Boesman was still incredibly interesting and enthusiastic to share his environment with each of us. To finish off the tour, he enthralled us with a few traditional stories from the San people/Bushmen of the area, with most of us hanging on his every word, telling a classic tale of a hunter listening to his wife and forgetting the words of his father/ancestors, ending up killing a pregnant animal, which is something that would never be done by a true man of the wild. He also told us more about the San people that originally inhabited the area, adapting perfectly to the desert. Their short stature and yellow skin allowed them to hunt effectively in the desert, and strange adaptations, like being able to eat 10 kilograms of meat in one sitting to store in their bodies until the next meal, made them well-suited for that sort of life. So distinct, they were viewed as a different race of humans, allowed to be hunted until the early 20th century, and there are very few of the traditional people left, as some have been killed off or chased away, others intermixing into the rest of the society and losing their evolutionary advantages. As some of the San people were killed when coming near the dunes of Sossusvlei by other cultures, the area was given the name, Tsossus, meaning the Place Where People Disappear in the Sand.

After taking in the incredible views of Deadvlei and learning from Boesman, we headed back to the camp to relax in the shade and get out of the hot afternoon sun. Later, we headed in the opposite direction, driving over to the edge of Sesriem Canyon, a 30 meter deep canyon that stretches for a few kilometers just on the outside of the park. In one direction, the canyon walls of composite rock, pebbles and hardened sand narrowed to the width of just about 10 yards, with a few tiny pools of standing water before closing off with a few impassible, pock-marked walls. Moving back in the other direction, the canyon opened up, widening out into a dry riverbed with yellow grasses and medium sized boulders strewn about. Simon and I walked through the area under the late afternoon sun, heading back up the rocky incline on the other side of the canyon as the setting sun slightly changed the color of the area, falling behind the horizon just as we got back to the truck and headed back to the camp for the night. Back at camp, a few dust storms had passed through, filling our tents with little bits of sand through any possible opening and flipping over Simon's unpegged tent and depositing loads and loads of sand into it.

Both Deadvlei and Sossusvlei had very high expectations in my mind, and both of these beautiful spots lived up to their billing as some of the most impressive areas in Namibia and some of the best desert landscapes in the world. Unfortunately, we had to keep moving, leaving the next morning back towards the Southern part of Namibia and eventually making our way to Fish River Canyon.

(A beautifully sculpted dune along the road in Namib-Naukluft park, on the way to Deadvlei. The lines and shadows were wonderful in the early morning light.)

(Though you are only allowed to climb on a few of them, such as Dune 45, the lines of dunes on each side of the road offer spectacular views along the way.)

(Nearing the end of the road, we transferred from our large group truck to the back of our guide's small truck to traverse the last few kilometers of the sandy road that sees more than a few inexperienced drivers get stuck.)

(Our guide, Boesman - Afrikaans for Bushman, let us out of the truck on onto a few of the smaller dunes, offering insight and stories about this seemingly lifeless landscape. Having lived in the desolate area, just like his father, he captivated us with his knowledge of every aspect of the area, along with a few great stories about the history of the place and the native inhabitants.)

(The beautifully oxidized sand reveals wind ripples from the strong gusts that alternately come on from the cold ocean or away from the desert, depending on the season. Boesman actually taught us that you could find your way only using the directions given to you based on the curvature of the sands, though I think he might be the only way brave enough to try something like that. Despite the strong winds that occasionally flare up, the dunes are essentially stagnant, as they move in alternating directions during the year.)

(Ahead of us, as usual, was Boesman. He initially warned us not to try to keep up, as he'd teach us a quick lesson and then speed-walk away, chasing after his next set of bug tracks or hidden foliage. Despite the heat of the sand, he prefers to go barefoot, possibly just to add to his mystique.)

(As he noted, the sand can tell many stories of the animals that live there. Here on the side of the dune, he showed us a few separate tracks of different kinds of bugs or spiders. Later on, he also caught a desert gecko for us, with a deft throw of his hat to simulate a bird passing overhead and sprinting up the dune to catch the burrowing lizard in its tracks.)

(Again, speeding ahead of us to his next stop. Despite leading nature tours many, many times throughout the year, it was obvious that he loves this area, and that enthusiasm made him one of the best, most captivating guides that I've ever had.)

(After cresting the hill of one of the smaller dunes, we had our first view of Deadvlei, the white salt pan that you see behind me. Not to be confused with the ridiculously white feet seen at the bottom of my legs. No, I'm not wearing socks.)

(Surrounded by massive sand dunes and eventually cut off from its water supply, the salt pan was closed off, and the few trees of the former watershed petrified 600-900 years ago, leaving an eerie, other-worldly landscape in its wake. This area is known as Deadvlei, simply meaning dead (salt) pan. They kept telling us that the movie "The Cell" with Jennifer Lopez was filmed her a few years ago, but apparently no one ever saw that movie because it didn't really mean anything to any of us.)

(Distances can be deceiving in this unique area, and the diameter of the large pan actually reaches something like 3 kilometers. We had about an hour to roam around the amazing landscape, and I was in awe of every second of it.)

(Another quick view of Dune 45 on the way out of the park. In the midday heat, only a couple of cars remain in the gravel parking lot that can get fairly full for the morning trek to see the sun rise over the dunes.)

(In the late afternoon, after a short break back at the campsite to get out of the midday sun, we headed over to nearby Sesriem Canyon, about 100 feet tall at its highest point. Narrowing into nothingness at one point, it was an interesting little hike.)

(In the other end, the canyon eventually just flows out into a large riverbed, allowing us to climb around and return along the top rim of the canyon, just in time to see the sun set on our incredible day among the amazing deserts of Namibia.)

(Another view down from the rim of Sesriem Canyon, walls made mostly of a composite of large pebbles and cementlike sandstone.)

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Amazing Sossusvlei, Dune 45, and Solitaire Apple Strudel

September 4 - 5, 2010

The iconic image of a glowing red sand dune shaped by the winds is one of the classic shots of Namibia, and it is probably what drew me towards this country, so I couldn't wait to get to our next stop: Sossusvlei. Moving on from our few days of adventure and comfort in Swakopmund, we crossed back into the sunny desert and away from the misty coast, again driving past hours of flat sand and gravel plains with very little vegetation to speak of. Despite the constant sun, the sky was still a bit grey due to all the sand and dust in the air. Without much change in landscape, we entered into Namib-Naukluft National Park, the huge reserve that encompasses the dune fields, a few canyons and sprawling areas of protected desert. As most of us were being lulled to sleep by the bumps and rattles of the fairly decent dirt road, I looked out the window to see a few huge rock walls growing up beside us as our flat road ended, and the road began a descent into a huge canyon. Kuiseb Canyon almost came out of nowhere as its walls are about the same level as the surrounding terrain, with the road dropping down and following the course of the often-dry riverbed weaving through the middle. A few lines of trees stood along the banks of where the river sometimes flows, though we only saw a few spots with water. The canyon itself is fairly impressive, particularly to geologists, as the layers upon layers that make up the area are easily seen in horizontal and vertical stacks, depending on the uplift of the particular area. In fact, two German geologists hid out in the canyon for a few years during World War II, not wanting to be brought into the war. One of them, Henno Martin, wrote a book about the experience called The Sheltering Desert. I can't imagine living in such a harsh landscape with so little to eat or drink, especially when the heat of the summer would be in full effect.

We made a quick lunch stop in another dry riverbed, meaning that we found shade under one of the few trees in the area, and soon after we passed the Tropic of Capricorn, moving from the warm tropics down into the cold winter/spring of Southern Africa, but it actually didn't feel any different. Not long after this stop, we came to an aptly named town called Solitaire, a tiny outpost in the middle of the desert, miles and miles away from anything else. The place has become famous as a snack stop in Central Namibia, partially thanks to being written about in Ewan Macgregor's book, Long Way Down, where he and his friend rode down the length of Africa. We pulled up to the small gas station and cafe, flanked by a few old car and truck frames slowing rusting away next to clumps of cactus, though there were a few other tourists around, all of us heading into the cafe for the attraction of the area, the apple strudel. This dessert is said to be the best in the country or even the region, and the serving was huge, though most of us thought it was a little dry, particularly for the desert, and unimpressive. Not long afterwards, we arrived at our campsite on the edge of the massive dunes of Sossusvlei, though we were still 45-60 minutes away from the key attractions of the park, which we'd see the next morning. For the night, we walked around the isolated area, admiring the low mountain ranges encircling the horizon and watching the sun set over the hills from the vantage point of a tiny sand dune standing above the plain. Simon, Gursheen, Slavek and I then started walking back before being surprised by a slithering snake passing right in front of us in the sand. Gursheen has a snake phobia, so she obviously wasn't happy and screamed a bit, though the snake didn't care to hang around and investigate us. Thinking we were probably past the worst of it, we continued on, and another snake scurried along ahead of us, into the small shrubs around the outskirts of the large campsite. Asking around, we found that the first brown and yellow snake was probably some sort of coral snake, and the second medium sized one, pure black in color, was almost definitely a young spitting cobra, so we were happy that the snakes didn't take much interest in us.

We woke up around 4:30 or 5 the next morning, wearily piling into the truck and heading up to the park gates, needing to get there the moment they opened the gates. Once open, our truck, along with three or four others sped along the well-maintained dirt road in the darkness, making our way to the centerpiece of the park, Dune 45. As a coincidence, this dune is 45 kilometers from the entrance gate, and many people mistakenly think this is where the name comes from, but the huge dunes lining the road on each side were simply numbered from about 1 to 60, and this just happened to be the 45th one. On the way there, we were passed by a crazy driver from one of the other groups, ignoring the risk of wildlife along the road, though we all arrived nearly the same time at a small parking lot on the edge of the dune. Though there are many dunes around, Dune 45 is the most popular for its proximity to the road, massive size and relative ease of climbing (and I don't think you're actually allowed to climb most of the others). So we staggered out of the truck and started making our way up the ridge line of the dune, beginning with a fairly flat slope but soon raising up to a steep climb on the sand. Being a desert, the morning was quite cold, many of us bundled up in hats, jackets and gloves, though we knew that would soon change once the heat of the day would set in. As we got higher and higher, the first hints of morning light began to illuminate the area, revealing a massive panorama of dunes in all directions, not to mention the steep sand walls sliding off to either side of us on the ridge. Some people opted to only go up most of the way either due to fatigue or wanting to get back down faster, but we continued on, making our way to the top, with probably about 40 or 50 of us all sitting somewhere along the ridge, taking in the awesome views and waiting for the sun to rise up over the hills. Finally, the rays of light and the yellow-orange sun began to appear directly across from us, rising majestically above this natural wonderland, lighting up the red sand of the area, much more brilliant than many of the yellow/gold dunes that you often see. Dune 45 is about 130 meters high (about 420 feet), so we had some great views over the surrounding area. Despite not having the moment to myself, this was still one of those moments that I had built up in my mind as a must-see sort of thing, and I was not disappointed.

After admiring the views a little longer, I decided to take off my shoes and head down the side of the dune, following a secondary ridge that made it just a little less steep and also wanting to not wait in line as everyone descended down the original path. The first few steps off the side were steep, though my feet sunk into the rust colored sand and felt fairly stable, so I soon began to run down the side of the huge sand dune, delighting in having this part of the place to myself, as well as taking in the views of the changing colors of the early morning in the valley. About five or ten minutes later, I was down at the bottom, looking up and realizing how high we had actually been, as it was way more apparent when looking from the steep side as opposed to the front with the gradual incline. I circled around the dune, watching it change shades of orange and red before getting back to the front of the dune for a few pictures of it with just one or two dry and/or dead trees standing in a few spots around the front of the dune. Waiting for us below were our driver, cook and guide, having made us a nice breakfast to enjoy in front of this magical place. I had a quick meal and explored the area for a little while longer, almost not believing that I was actually at the foot of this dune field that had been in my mind for so long. Eventually, we had to move on, trying to take advantage of the cooler morning air and moving further into the park, to a spot called Deadvlei.

(A quick stop through the dry, stacked rocks of Kuiseb Canyon. Two Germans actually hid out in this canyon for a few years to avoid becoming a part of World War II. I, on the other hand, am fairly conspicuous in this picture.)

(A small trail running through the desolate canyon. Driving from the coast and Swakopmund through flat, gravel plains, we found ourselves descending into the huge canyon.)

(Crossing South over the Tropic of Capricorn, heading into the temperate, frigid climates outside of the tropics. As you can see, I was enthralled to be crossing over an invisible geographic demarcation.)

(The apple strudel in a tiny, isolated town appropriately named Solitaire. This dessert is said to be legendary and the best in Southern Africa, but I wasn't really all that impressed. It wasn't bad, but it was pretty dry, especially after travelling for hours through the desert.)

(Solitaire mostly just consists of a gas station, cafe and shop alongside a few farms and a whole lot of nothing. Just outside the cafe are some of these remnants of cars, fuel pumps and some cacti.)

(These cars and the strudel are pretty much the extent of what you'll see in Solitaire. The place gained some popularity as it was mentioned in actor Ewan McGregor's book when he and his buddy rode their motorcycles down across the entire continent.)

(We arrived at Namib-Naukluft Park just before sundown, giving us a bit of time to set up our tents and go for a walk in the sandy plains to enjoy the sunset. Coming back, we crossed paths with two snakes at very close range, the second of which being a spitting cobra, though both of the snakes continued slithering on their way without paying much attention to us.)

(As with many of the groups staying just outside the park, we awoke early and sped into the park the minute the gates opened, allowing us an early morning hike up to the top of majestic Dune 45 for a view of the sunrise over the rows of sand dunes.)

(Though we weren't alone, it was still an amazing sight to watch the sun light up the valley surrounded by lines of massive red sand dunes in every direction. The hike up to the top of the dune, over 400 feet tall, was a little difficult, but it wasn't horrible, as the heat of the morning hadn't set in. On the way down, I opted for a more direct route.)

(Instead of dodging tourists on the way back down the spine of the wind-sculpted dune, I decided to just go off the path and head straight down one of the steep sides. Running down the dune barefoot, my legs sunk in calf-deep with each step in the soft sand, still cool from the previous night. In addition to being a great way to get down, this saved a lot of time and allowed me to get around to the front of the dune for a few more pictures before the rows of tourists made their way down. This picture is courtesy of Slav.)

(Around the side of Dune 45, named for being the 45th of the numbered dunes in the park, coincidentally 45 kms from the entrance to the park. On the ridge, you can see the tiny specks that are a few people climbing down the sand. In the foreground, the gravel desert typifies much of the area.)

(A few petrified trees at the base of the dune gave us a sneak peak of what we'd soon see in Deadvlei later that morning.)

(The magical morning light added to the wonder of this place filled with unreal shades of yellow, orange and red.)

(The view of the 'front' of Dune 45 from the parking area. After returning from our climb, our driver, cook and guide were nice enough to have a big breakfast waiting for us, giving us a few more minutes to stare at the beautiful landscape before heading further into the park for a short trek to Deadvlei.)

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Quadbiking the Deserts of Swakopmund

September 2 - 4, 2010

Continuing on my adrenaline filled day after sandboarding, a few members of my group and I decided to go quadbiking through the dunes around Swakopmund in the afternoon (better known as riding ATVs to us Americans). A driver came and picked up our group, though we drove for about three minutes, circling around to the backside of our campsite, realizing that we could have probably walked there just as quickly, since the site was literally just outside the fences of our area, which is also the edge of the strange town of Swakopmund. Along with me for the afternoon were Simon (British architect guy), Bruce and Stuart (British brothers), and David and Jennifer (retired Aussie couple that were my teammates for chore duty throughout the trip). We were given a very brief bit of instructions, and then we were on the quadbikes, revving the engines and ready to go.

Swakopmund is surrounded by sandy desert, so it's not hard to find empty areas to ride, though thankfully this company sticks to a piece of the dunes to the South of the city that are blocked off for their own activities, preventing too much environmental damage to the rest of the area. Buzzing down a road for just about a minute, we entered the beautiful golden sand dunes, laying down tracks as we went along, slightly tentative at first, though we soon got the feel for what our machines were capable of. Bruce, being one to always go full-speed, opted for the manual transmission bike which had a larger engine, so he soon disobeyed the instructions to stay in line, weaving in and out and past us at times, slicing fairly close to us at times with a huge smile on his face. Riding up and down over the huge rolling dunes with no one else in sight, we began making our way to the faces of the dunes, riding up the front of them at a steep angle and then turning back downhill just as the quadbike would lose momentum (if you don't turn, you'd lose all momentum and then roll down the hill), then picking up a huge amount of speed as you raced back down the large dunes, catapulting back up another mound to the next dune. We did a few circles on some of the more enjoyable ones and continued making our way around the area, having to stop a few times for Bruce who either was too far ahead or behind doing his own thing or, on two or three occasions, stuck in the sand while trying to shift when he shouldn't, leaving himself stuck digging into the soft sand and needing the guide to come pull him out. (Bruce and Stuart always mentioned how he loved to go all out in anything, and he told me that he's made sure to never get a motorcycle, as he knows he'd kill himself, so this didn't surprise me.)

After about an hour of riding over the dunes, we took a quick break, looking over the spectacular patterns of the rolling dunes going off in every direction. The late afternoon sunlight illuminated the area with a brilliant golden hue, making the exhilarating experience that much more magical. Each of us had loved the first half of the journey, and we couldn't wait for more. We turned around and headed back towards the base, taking a track closer to the coast this time. As before, we circled up and down the face of some of the larger dunes before coming to the top of a few huge ones where we actually had to slow down quite a bit to make it safely down the steep descents. Not long afterwards, we came over another ridge, revealing the setting sun reflecting off the dark water of the ocean just a few hundred yards away, providing a perfect ending to an incredible experience. Another guide also got a small gecko in the sand around us, showing his version of an "African earring" with the gecko clamping on to his earlobe with his mouth and not letting go. I had not originally thought that I would do the quadbiking, but I was so glad that I did; it was almost worth it just for the perfect views over the massive field of sand dunes, and the quadbiking part was amazingly fun in and of itself. It was so good that a few of us even talked about doing it again the next day, though we eventually decided not to do that. Another few people in our group did the quadbiking the next morning, and although I'm sure it was great, they had mist and clouds, so I was glad that we had the spectacular views and late afternoon sun when we did our trip.

I also thought about doing a little bit of solo paragliding on the dunes with three of the group members the next day, climbing up the dunes and floating down a little bit above the sand on the air currents, though I decided to relax and save a bit of money, instead taking the day to rest and get caught up on a few mundane things like laundry. Again, the day was mostly shrouded in mist and a bit of wind, making it quite cold on the coast, while it was very hot and dry just ten minutes inland. For dinner, a few of us went to an Italian place the first night; this is one of the few places in Namibia with many culinary choices, so we had to take advantage of it. Some had local meat (oryx) or fish, while I opted for a massive calzone that I barely even finished. It was so good, in fact, that I convinced Simon, Bruce and Stuart to go back to that place the next night, with each of us ordering our own calzone, since they were also impressed by it the day before. This time I went for the springbok version, filled with a bit of the tasty game meat (again, similar to beef) and a sort of stirfry mix. When the four huge calzones came out, we saw a lot of the other guests pointing and talking about our food, as they are quite impressive sights. All in all, I didn't think I'd have much to do in two and a half days in Swakopmund, but I had a great time with the sandboarding and the quadbiking, and the great calzones just added to my enjoyment of the place.

Leaving town, we had another dark, misty morning, heading down the coast to Walvis Bay, one of the most important harbors on this side of the coast and actually the second biggest city in Namibia, though that's not saying much. We passed a few elegant houses lining the waterfront, but most of the city was fairly generic, backed by some large fishing boats and freight harbors. We stopped just past the town at the boardwalk to wander around, checking out a few of the flocks of flamingos wading in the shallow water in front of us before heading back onto the truck on on our way inland again, ready to make our way to Sossusvlei, one of the most eagerly anticipated stops on the trip.

(After sandboarding in the morning, six of us decided to do the quadbiking (ATVs) in the afternoon. We went just outside of town to one of the many dunes and began a guided ride up and down the dunes. We would speed along up and down the hills and then do big semi-circles on the massive dune faces, going as high up as possible before losing momentum and turning back downhill before the quadbike tipped over. This is either me or Bruce, but I'd have to zoom in to see. Looks really cool, so it's probably me.)

(Me and Simon on our quadbikes, having a great time tearing up the dunes. They also assured us that we stick to a specific part of the dunes, leaving the rest of the landscape and habitat of the area untouched, thus not ruining the environment all that much. I had initially thought I wouldn't do this, but it turned out to be incredibly fun, so much so that many of us wanted to do it again.)

(Me making some tracks while waiting for the rest of the group. Bruce opted for the larger bike with the manual transmission, meaning that he'd often speed by us, but then he got stuck a few times trying to shift on the steep hills, so this was one of the times when the guide had to go back and get him.)

(Apart from the exhilarating ride, just getting out into the beautiful dunes in the late afternoon light was worth it, as we had some incredible views of the sand stretching in every direction, finally stopping at the cold Atlantic Ocean.)

(See if you can guess what's missing in this picture. Hint- it starts with a "Q" and ends with "uadbike.")

(Here's the whole group of quadbikers. From left: Stuart, me, David, Bruce, Simon and Jenny. We also did a really cool picture where we all did thumbs-up, but somehow the picture didn't capture the excitement.)

(After getting a massive calzone one night for dinner, it was hard to choose anything else, so I convinced some of the guys to come back the next night, and we were not disappointed. With our four massive calzones, most of the people in the restaurant were looking at us, no doubt envious. Mine was a springbok stirfry, and it was really good. We all had a bit of leftovers for lunch, too. From left - Stuart, Bruce, me (already taking a bite), and Simon.)

(Along with the wonderful calzones, I was also a fan of the donuts from the local supermarket. Apparently I'm perpetuating American stereotypes of overeating all over the world, but that's ok. I like food.)

(Leaving Swakopmund, we headed down the coast to Walvis Bay, where we saw large flocks of flamingos hanging out in the bay. Though the day was a little dark, it made for good reflections on the water. This peaceful little guy was just sitting there until Bruce started to chase a few of them to try to make for a better, more exciting video.)

(Though they're not all that rare, it's still cool to see them in flight.)

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Sandboarding Through the Strange Town of Swakopmund

September 1 - 2, 2010

Swakopmund is, in a word, strange. This little German settlement in the middle of nowhere sits isolated, surrounded by vast sand dunes on three sides and the cold Atlantic Ocean on the other. Driving down along the Skeleton coast, there were vast horizons of sandy and rocky plains with nothing all around, and then, all of a sudden, we came upon this town with paved roads and proper buildings and markets, wedged into a little area of mostly five or six blocks from the ocean to the interior and maybe ten blocks wide, along with just a tiny bit of suburbs and housing on the fringes, though those are also all confined to a few main roads, so the unusual town fits nicely into a little rectangular area when seen from above, in stark contrast to the light brown of the desert all around. Apart from a significant fishing port, Walvis Bay, about 60 kilometers to the South, there is almost nothing around, making the place an oasis in the area, if that's even possible to have an oasis bordering an ocean (though an inhospitable piece of it). In fact, the remake of the show, The Prisoner, a show where a prisoner is isolated in a very strange small town where no one ever leaves because of the desert all around, was filmed here.

We did a quick tour of the tiny village in our truck to get our bearings and then arrived at our bungalows for the next few nights, most of us quite happy to not have to put up and put down tents for a change. The little bungalows fit the quirky character of the place well, entering into a little rest area with some pastel colored A frames that looked like ski lodges built on the wrong continent along with our little boxy two room houses, complete with a tiny kitchen and bathroom in each. Though there were two tiny beds in my cramped room, I got the bedroom to myself, sharing the house with Bruce and Stuart, the two older English men who often kept me entertained. Bruce had incredible stories from his many, many years of travelling to exotic locations, and he and Stuart always had a lively banter going between the two of them, whether in the heat of a nightly cribbage match or just making fun of each other or something they saw out of the window of the truck.

Walking around town added to the strange feel of the place, finding the streets mostly empty, still shaded in the cool fog of the day. The palm-lined boulevards feature a few tourist shops and a number of historic Germanic houses and buildings, nicely painted in a very European style. There was also a nice promenade of palms trees and sidewalk along the waterfront, though the windy day didn't make for a very pleasant stroll. In spite of all its amenities, each of us still couldn't shake the odd vibe that we were getting from Swakopmund (or Swakop for short). For our first night back in some semblance of civilization, we opted for a nicer group dinner, heading off to the Lighthouse for a nice dinner where a few of us tried some of the local meat including oryx/gemsbok and springbok, both tasting like a nice tender meat similar to steak. We finished off the night with a visit to the local pub/dance club, finding a less than lively scene that featured mostly us on the dance floor (not so much me) and a little scuffle between a few of the locals who had too much to drink.

The next morning I walked the ten minutes back into town from our bungalows, finding more of the quiet, eerie streets, and I grabbed a few donuts for the road, jogging back just in time to catch the shuttle for the first of my two big adventure activities for the day: sandboarding. Though I had barely only snowboarded for a few hours, the idea of strapping on a board and riding down the massive sand dunes sounded like fun, so I joined the tour, along with Slavek (a Polish tour operator in his 30s living in London) and Richard (a retired American who teaches online university courses) from our group. Our surfer-dude guide and his friendly dog joined us in the minivan with a few other passengers, and we headed off. Just a few minutes outside of town, we left the fog and haze behind, emerging into the bright sunlight and much higher temperatures (though being winter, it was only about 27 C/80 F). We parked outside a field of massive yellow-orange sand dunes, got our gear and headed up the hill. As all of the others doing the sandboarding had done snowboarding before, there was not much real instruction, so I grabbed my board, along with my big boots and helmet and started the steep trek up the dunes.

I was hoping we'd start on a little slope and progress forward, but we went straight for the big one standing about 120 meters high (about 400 feet), taking about 15 minutes to walk up in the loose sand. The steep descent would have surely been a black diamond ski slope, but the sand creates a little more friction and slows you down a bit (you wax the board every time you go), though it still looked very intimidating to me. Not only that, just in front of us down the steep drop was a small wooden ramp for a jump, though I knew I'd be staying away from that for a while. I started slowly, cutting straight across the huge slope to lessen the angle, sliding down back and forth with my hands outstretched, tapping the sand here and there to keep my balance. At times it felt like I got the hang of it, though whenever I would pick up speed, I feared I was getting out of control, so I either turned back into the hill or fell for a soft stop in the cushioning sand. I never got to the point where I was fast or skilled, but I did have a great time trying out the sandboarding, and I'd love to try it again. Slavek, on the other hand, is quite good, having done a lot of snowboarding back in Europe. While most of us started out slow, he hopped on and sped right down the middle of the mountain as if it were no big deal. For one of his next runs, he decided to go for the jump, losing his balance just before takeoff, resulting in an impressive face-plant into the sand. Though he didn't make it, we all applauded his effort, and he did do a slightly better one the next time around.

After an hour or so of sliding down the hill and climbing back up, we got a chance to try out the other activity of the day, sandboarding on a flat piece of wood while laying down, speeding down the dune. Richard had opted for this from the beginning, not wanting to deal with the stand up boarding. This group had begun at the same time as us, practicing on a few smaller dunes before moving up to the top of the big slope with us. We, the group that did the stand-up boarding also, didn't have that luxury, so we were given a 30 second introduction and sent on our way. You simply lay flat on your stomach on top of a thin piece of some sort of wood/plasterboard with your knees right at the bottom of the board, lifting your legs slightly and then dragging your feet if you want to slow down or need to straighten out. Laying flat on my stomach, face just inches from the ground, I set up on the edge of the huge dune, looking down with quite a bit of anxiety. I had seen one or two runs before me, speeding down the hill and not looking too difficult, but that wasn't much comfort. With my arms bent at the elbows and splayed out like chicken wings, I held the front of the board and simply picked the front up to get myself going, being reminded not to put the front end down, as that would result in spinning out and lots of sand in my face. I picked up a lot of speed very quickly on the very steep slope, sliding past the first hill, slightly leveling out for just a second and then plummeting down into the second pit, feeling a little bit out of control, yet still running straight enough. Just a few seconds later, I flew up the other side of the dune, coming to a stop and hearing the worker with the radar gun tell me that I got up to 70 kilometers per hour (42 mph), which is very, very fast when your face is just barely above the surface. While in action, I was scared and unsure how safe it actually was, but right when I hit the bottom, I wanted to go again.

I grabbed my board and hiked back up the dune as quickly as possible, ready for another run. This time was a little more fun and slightly less scary, though it's still daunting looking down from the top of the sand. Again, I managed to keep the board straight and had another good run, though the guy after me got a little out of control at the very end of his run while slowing down, getting the board turned sideways, kicking up sand and eventually rolling off the board, though at this point, it wasn't dangerous, just a dirty, sandy wipeout. Really enjoying the speed, I hiked quickly up again, making it in time for one last run in which I hit 72 kph, though the record is apparently 80, probably set by one of the workers with a running start or something. To finish off, we made one more tiring climb up the dunes, coming back down on the stand up/snow boards. As before, I wasn't the greatest, but I managed just a bit more speed and agility, though I still have a long way to go before making it down the hill with any bit of flair or grace. We finished at the bottom of the dunes with a quick lunch before heading back, where our instructor talked to me for 15 minutes about Madagascar after learning that I'd be visiting the country later in my trip, since he spent four months there and loved the place. We got back to our odd bungalows for a quick break before starting my next activity for the day - quadbiking (aka riding ATVs).

(The strange town of Swakopmund, a few squares of German architecture and strange houses in the middle of the desert, fronting the cold coastline. This is also one of the tourist centers of Namibia, known for some of its adventure activities. The empty streets of the town have a very weird, surreal feel.)

(For my first forray into the dunes, we left the cold, misty coast and within minutes were back in the hot sun and desert. This is an aerial view of the sand dunes that we climbed for a sandboarding adventure - just using a snowboard with a bunch of wax to go down some incredibly steep sand dunes.)

(Without much/any snowboarding experience, I wasn't the greatest sand boarder, but it was still a lot of fun to slide down the huge dune, though not as fun to climb back up with the board and heavy boots every time.)

(After quite a few runs on the sandboard, most of us switched over to the lie-down sandboarding. This was even more scary to start, as they let us start at the top of the steepest hill, without any real instruction. You basically lay headfirst on this tiny little piece of wood/plasterboard and pick up the front of the board, so that it doesn't get stuck in the sand. Then gravity takes over, and you fly down the super steep dunes, with your face just inches from the oncoming sand.)

(Despite being rather scary, this style of sandboarding was amazing, and I raced back up the hill for a few more runs. With a radar gun at the bottom, they measured our speed, and I got up to 72 kph - 43mph. Pretty fast when sliding down a hill on your stomach. At the end, you come into a huge basin and back up a hill to slow you down, though if you turn just slightly (a few people did), you go flying off and spinning through the sand. Fortunately, I stayed on my board.)

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Cape Cross Seal Colony and the Skeleton Coast

September 1, 2010

The ominously named Skeleton Coast lines the Northern coast of Namibia, an area of vast sand dunes running straight into the sea for nearly half the coastline of the country. With the mix of warm air coming off the dunes and cold air from the frigid water brought up on the Benguela Current from Antarctica, an almost constant fog sits over the untouched area, causing very low visibility for ships in the area and leading to quite a few shipwrecks along the coast, left to slowly rust away in the harsh environment. In addition to the shipwrecks, if a sailor did manage to survive the crash, there was almost no hope of survival once on land, as the desert stretches for hundreds of miles in any direction with very little to offer in terms of food or shelter. According to my guidebook, some Portuguese sailors in the time of early exploration called the area The Sand of Hell (As Areias do Inferno) for that reason. Fortunately, we were travelling in the comfort of our nice truck and were just touching the very Southern edge of this coast, so our visit was a little less treacherous.

Getting to the coast from Brandberg, we passed miles and miles of flat, lifeless terrain of coarse sand and gravel fields, dotted with a few tiny rocks with not much else. Nearing the coast, we could see the distinctive fog bank and darker sky waiting for us, and we immediately felt the drop in temperature. Within a few miles of the coast, there are actually some brown and black spots on the ground that are lichen, coming out to bloom in greens and blues when the scarce rain does hit the area. Soon we got our first glimpse of the dark water of the ocean, marking a cross-continental trip for those who started this journey in Kenya and came from the waters of the Indian Ocean in Tanzania (though I started at the halfway point). Out of the isolation, we came across a tiny little settlement with just a few houses and a tourist center, the home to the Cape Cross seal colony.

Cape Cross is a haven for the Cape fur seals who gather here in groups of up to 100,000 at the peak time of the year for breeding. As we got out of the truck in the gravel parking lot, we were hit by the strong winds, a bit of a chill in the air, and a definite smell of animals nearby (though our guide said that the smell is often much stronger/worse). We walked along a purpose-built boardwalk lining the back of the beach, putting us just a few feet above the beach below, covered for about half a mile with seal after seal, occupying almost every available piece of land or rock. The brown lumps stretched off into the distance, some napping, a few young ones waddling around, and others jostling and barking, in what actually sounded pretty similar to a field of sheep bleating. Offshore, other large groups surfed the waves of the cold water, bobbing around like dark buoys in the ocean. After about thirty minutes of watching the seals, we headed back to the brief warmth of the truck before stopping at a nearby beach for lunch. Though very scenic, the beach was again a little cold and windy, but that was a nice change from the desert environment throughout most of the rest of the country.

Back on the road, we passed just a few tiny outposts, strangely put together towns of 10 or 20 buildings with oddly colored and shaped structures serving as factories and houses for some of the salt mines in the area. With salt being so prevalent due to the proximity to the ocean and evaporation in the area, the mines are common here, so much so that every so often you will find a random, unattended table along the road in the middle of nowhere, stacked with a few examples of the beautiful pink crystalline structure of the salt, sitting with just a small can for visitors to drop a bit of money in for taking some of the crystals. We also veered off the main dirt road once more, driving onto the sand and then walking out to one of the more recent, more accessible shipwrecks; a huge boat beached about 50 yards offshore, with waves constantly pounding against it. A bit more driving and we arrived to Swakopmund, a strange little city in the middle of nowhere.

(Cape Cross Seal Colony has something like 100,000 seals during its peak. Apparently it smells exactly as you'd expect 100,000 animals living in the water and eating fish to smell. Fortunately, the stench wasn't as bad when we were there, though the barking and crying did sound like a huge herd of sheep at times.)

(There were even a few little guys squirming around, looking much more graceful than the huge seals that are completely awkward when trying to move around on land.)

(Just down from the seal colony, we had a quick lunch on some windy picnic tables along the isolated coast. My thoughts on lunch - "Hmmmppphhhh." When I become a grumpy old man, I'll be using this face quite often.)

(This isolated stretch of coast where the desert meets the water is known as the Skeleton Coast. With the combination of cold water and warm air, there is almost always mist around, creating huge problems for ships navigating the area. In addition to the possibility of shipwrecks, there would be almost no way to survive in the harsh desert, hence the nickname. This shipwreck is a fairly recent one that we spotted from the road along the coast.)

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The White Lady of Brandberg

August 31 - Sept 1, 2010

Just a few hours from the ancient carvings at Twyfelfontein sits Brandberg, Namibia's highest mountain. Cruising along the fairly well graded dirt roads, we made our way to the campsite around Brandberg around lunchtime, giving us time to set up a nice meal and marvel at the swimming pool, cactus garden and small patch of green grass surrounding the pool, catching our eye after days of browns and yellows. Beyond the campsite sat two massive peaks, with the reddish, rocky Brandberg poking into the sky at over 2,500 meters (about 8,000 feet), standing tall above the adjacent yellow grasslands and random patches of stacked boulders here and there. Drawn in by the allure of the pool, a few of our group decided to relax and stay behind while the rest of us got back in the truck and made our way to the base of the mountain where we hired "Professor Colin", an older man with a baggy polo shirt and slightly unshaven face as our guide for the area, as the locals often work in rotations for guiding the tour groups that happen to show up. He quickly made some introductions and then we were off, realizing that we didn't have a lot of time to make the hike and get back before the sun went down over the horizon.

Walking briskly, our group followed along as Colin pointed out various birds and plant life, giving us detailed descriptions of the local flora and fauna and demonstrating a vast knowledge of the area. As we walked, we passed through a few high grasses and then a dry riverbed with large boulders along the side and smaller pebbles and gravel down the middle. Along the side of the path, rodent-like creatures were scurrying about, moving away as they saw us coming. These small, brown balls of fur, about the size of a small cat, are rock hyrax (also known as rock dassie in the area), the closest relative to the elephant, though vastly different in appearance, since they mostly just look like an oversized rodent or chinchilla without a tail. Moving further along, the wall of the adjacent mountain ridges grew closer, putting us in the vast shadow of rocky Brandberg and out of the hot sun of the day. The name Brandberg means Fire Mountain, referring to the brilliant red and orange glow as the rocky mountain reflects the first and last light of the day, making it almost appear that the mountain is on fire.

An hour or so into the walk, we came to a small climb and a set of steps, leading us around a few large boulders to a partially sheltered tiny cove in one of the boulders. Behind a small guard rail, Colin pointed out some of the ancient rock art on the walls. This legendary art is known as the White Lady of Brandberg, along with a few other sketches of wild animals, livestock and humans. The White Lady was first examined in the late 1940s, thought to be of Mediterranean origin due to the style, though this idea was later dismissed, though it is significant for showing a fairly un-African style of hair, though the presence of male genitalia also brings up some questions about how it even got the name White Lady in the first place. Alongside the "lady" are a few other drawings of hunters, cows and wildlife of the region, though some of the historic paintings have been damaged by careless visitors who have thrown water or other liquids on the art to help darken them for pictures. We spent a few more minutes inspecting the art before walking just around the corner for a nice view of another dry river bed and a few empty rock slides that would be quite impressive during the rainy season when the river would be flowing. Colin then informed us that we had to hurry to get back before the sun set, so we headed off, speeding our way along the trail, past a bit of birdlife and more hyraxes before getting back to the truck and our resting driver (he's been there quite a few times before, so he didn't join us for the walk) and giving Professor Colin a lift back to the campsite. Unfortunately, we missed the sun setting on the mountain, so we couldn't see if the side of it actually glowed as is the legend.

While we were away, we apparently missed a cute game of chase between an adorable labrador puppy and the resident meerkat that was not that much smaller, as Bruce showed us in some of his videos. We had an authentic bush dinner that night, getting kudu stew, though the tasty antelope relative tasted very similar to beef, especially with the surrounding stew. Just as we finished dinner, one of the workers at the campsite came up and invited us to a concert for the evening, joining us with the other overland truck at the site for a few songs. The worker, along with about five other men and three women, explained to us a bit about their culture and soon began with traditional a capella songs and dances, stomping and clapping to the beat as the partially synchronized dancers strutted around with varying levels of interest. The voices harmonized well, mixing songs in their local language (it sounds hard to sing in a language with clicks) with a few simple English songs about the area, the White Lady of Brandberg ("I'm a white lady. I'm a white lady."), and even a Toyota Cressida. All the while, the dances involved were mostly just a few simple steps from side to side or shaking of the legs; nothing too elaborate. To finish the night, the group sand the Namibian national anthem and then asked our groups to sing a few of our own, finally getting a groups of Aussies to sing both the Australian and English anthems. In addition to that, our groups were invited/pulled up from our chairs to join in with a bit of the dancing on their last song, making two nights of dancing in the past few days for me (which is much more than normal for anyone that knows me).

The next morning, we woke before sunset and packed up our tents to get on the road, going only about 20 minutes up to a scenic spot of vast yellow grasslands and a few piles of boulders with the massive Brandberg in the background to watch the sun rise. Pulling off the main dirt track, we moved onto a small trail of two wheel paths and then tried to pull up onto the sandy plain before sinking down a bit into the loose ground. Though the truck was stuck, this is where we were intending to go, so we got out and set up breakfast, watching eagerly as the large red sun came up over the horizon, shining through one of the nearby boulder stacks. The soft morning light brilliantly illuminated the huge fields around us, giving a warm yellow glow to the whole area. Most of us wandered off to take pictures (Simon and Slavek making their way off to a faraway stack of rocks for an epic nude shot - tastefully shot from behind, of course) of the beautiful morning while Jo and Will gathered rocks to stack underneath the tires and get us out of the rut. (Apparently Jo had told Will that he'd be fine to go off the track, so he was a little upset with her for that.) Jo also managed to look up just in time to see Simon standing naked far off in the distance, shouting out for everyone to look at him as he tried to take his discrete shot of man and nature. As we were packing up and getting ready to go, two locals who had been walking from a long way off finally made it to the truck holding a shovel, saying that they had seen us get stuck and came to try to help us dig out of the sand and rocks, though they were obviously too late. The friendly men talked to a few of us for a little while, one of them claiming to have predictive abilities, though his guesses about me and a few of the group members weren't all that accurate. We chatted for a little longer, and then we were off, heading back down the isolated dirt roads, making our way towards the coast. The grasslands soon disappeared, leaving flatlands of slightly rocky plains and gravel as far as the eye could see, topped by a gritty blue sky, darkened by the omnipresent dust in the air.

(Our group walking through the bush towards the base of Brandberg Mountain to see some of the ancient rock art of the area. The afternoon walk was a little hot but quite scenic.)

(Despite looking uninterested, the rock art here was pretty nice. I guess I always look like that...or maybe just when I'm talking to you...)

(The most famous of the various paintings of people, animals and prints is the White Lady of Brandberg, which is very obviously a man, anatomically speaking.)

(The next morning our group headed out from our campsite and had breakfast on the side of the road, under the watchful eye of Brandberg. Sitting in the dry yellow grass, we watched the sun come over the horizon and cover the area in warm orange light...quite a pretty place. Though our truck is actually stuck in the sand in this picture, but Will and Jo eventually got it out.)

(Brandberg, Namibia's highest mountain, on the right and puny mountain on the left. Just offscreen is Simon posing for a tasteful nude shot of him facing the mountains, with Jo yelling "Hey, isn't that Simon naked?!?!")

(Narrow sand tracks are quite popular in this area. I guess a huge paved highway would be a little out of place.)

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