Driving away from the Himba village and our cultural tour, we had a long way to cover, passing from the desolation and scrub of the Kaokoveld region in Northwest Namibia to the desolation, string of small mountains and washed out river beds of the Damaraland region, still sort of in the West/Northwest part of the country. Our morning drive took us past some incredible scenery, soon passing through mountain valleys covered in short vegetation and rocky outcrops, stretching far along the horizon in all directions, a nice change from some of the flat scenery on the way over from Botswana and the Caprivi Strip. Passing up and down the steep, windy roads, there were very few other vehicles and even fewer people or signs of life in sight. Every once in a while, we'd pass a small set of huts or perhaps a roadside stall, selling dolls, rocks or crafts to passing tourists. Leaving the Himba people and Opuwu area behind, that also meant the end of paved roads for a while, beginning a long journey on the corrugated gravel and dirt roads that stretch over most of Namibia. We made a scenic stop for breakfast on top of one of the steepest passes, at a point where the road was again paved just for a few hundred meters, allowing heavy vehicles to get just enough traction to get up the hill. As we set up our tables of cereal, toast and coffee, we were greeted by a few locals who had walked up the hill, as their small truck taxi couldn't make it up the road (or back down the steep decline) with the passengers inside. Our panoramic views yielded untouched nature and small mountains in every direction, providing another variation of the dry countryside that defines the land here. Coming back down the hill, we had to nearly come to a stop to slowly traverse the large boulders of the riverbed below that also doubled as one of the main roads in the area. We made it cleanly through the pass and on a little while longer before we heard a huge pop, almost like a gunshot, as the front tire blew out and William calmly and confidently slowed the truck to a halt and got out to inspect the damage.
As usual, William was quick to get to work, realizing that we'd need to jack up the truck and put on the spare, hoping to get back on our way quickly and not to lose too much time on one of our long driving days. With things like flat tires, road blocks and other unpredictable events, we didn't have a lot of time to waste on days like this when we knew we'd need to get to our next camp before the sun went down, in which case it would be quite dangerous to drive at night with these unstable dirt roads, wildlife and the possibility of drunk drivers on the road. Looking at the tire, we could all see that it was torn to shreds, so most of us pitched in to give Will a hand as the others gathered in the shade for a quick rest. Unfortunately, changing the front tire also meant that we'd have to change the other front tire, as the spares are a slightly different size, so we couldn't have mismatched tires. This, of course, meant twice as much work, though once some of us got the hang of it, changing the tire wasn't the hardest job in the world, with the help of a hydraulic jack, a few tools and a piece of a broken pipe we used for leverage in getting the lug nuts on and off.
The bigger problem was what we'd do with the blown-out tire, as it had partially come off the rim and wouldn't fit in the back of the truck anymore. Will decided it would be best to hoist it up to the top of the truck, telling me that he'd need my help up top. After a minute of planning and tying the massive tire with some rope, the two of us climbed up through the roof hatches to the top of the truck, each donning a glove on one hand (we only had one pair) and getting ready for a painful lift. Pushing off against the roof rack for leveraged, we heaved the tire up, though we could only get the behemoth wheel up about halfway before having to tie it off. With another surge, we got the tire up a little further, though we were struggling to keep the tire up, knowing that we couldn't drop it, as there were a few people underneath trying to push the tire up to us, meaning that they'd be right under it if it were to fall. At one point, the rope slowly dug into my exposed hand for a painful, slow motion rope burn, though I had no option but to continue on. Just after that, Will got to the point where he couldn't pull past the next level, and his finger was being pinched by the rope, so he instructed me to tie the rope up so he could let go. In the heat of the moment, I misunderstood what he said (I'll blame it on his South African accent, I guess), and the rope continued to pull on his finger, and his tone got a little bit more urgent. "Tie it to the back, THE BACK. Tie the f*ckin' rope to the back of the truck!!" he shouted as I scrambled to figure out what he meant. For some reason, in my head, all I could hear was him telling me to tie the rope behind me (and not to the back of the truck, which was actually in front of me the way I was standing), so for a few excruciating seconds, we struggled back and forth before I finally got a meager knot together on the back of the truck, and he was able to let go and free his finger. Fortunately, the incident was over, and Will did apologize, so it ended well, though we still had the issue of getting the heavy tire up. We tried a few more times, with Jo, the guide, also jumping up top to try to help (and getting her hand brielfy pinched by the wheel) before Will and I finally gave up, just a few painful inches from pulling the tire over the top. Our brute force method didn't work, and Will instructed everyone to clear out below as he cut the rope with a knife and sent the huge tire back to the ground.
Looking again at the tire, we figured out that we actually could work the tire back around the rim after jumping on it for a little while (something that I thought we had already tried), allowing us to slide the tire back into the spot in the back of the truck, meaning that our toil, rope burn and injured fingers on top of truck turned out to be in vain. Either way, the group was all just happy to have the truck back, ready to roll, so we set off again, passing through more of the mountainous scenery before things leveled out a bit, passing by more flat valleys and sandy, waterless riverbeds, mostly noticeable by the string of trees lining the banks, fairly obvious in a land where anything more than dry grass, rocks and a few shrubs catches your eye.
In the evening, just about an hour before the sun went down, we arrived on the outskirts of Twyfelfontein, giving a few of us just enough time to climb the neighboring hill to our campsite for a nice view of the sun falling behind the hills and rock piles, overlooking the camp and another dry riverbed. Early the next morning, we took the short drive over to the site of Twyfelfontein, reaching an area of rocky plateaus, yellow grasslands and huge piles of boulders, eroded away from the remnants of old mountains. Twyfelfontein itself is a World Heritage Site, the first one named in Namibia, known for one of the most extensive collections of rock art in all of Africa. Etchings of various animals and prints litter the landscape, totalling around 2500 in all, indicating a busy past for the hunters of the area. The name Twyfelfontein actually translates to Doubtful Fountain, a name given by a settler in the 1940s who thought it doubtful that a spring would have existed here all year round to support the hunters and wildlife of the area.
Exploring the site, our group followed around our unenthusiastic tour guide, walking a few easy trails among the grasslands bordered by a few rock slides and a larger rock escarpment, stopping along the way to admire the many prints etched into the side of the red and brown rocks. The art varied from pictures of giraffe, elephants, flamingos, lions and other animals including a seal (indicating that the people had been to the coast not too far away) to prints helping the hunters to identify the tracks of the animals. It's believed that most of the engravings are around 6,000 years old, created by the San bushmen that roamed the area in those days. Well preserved by the dry climate, it was amazing to think that the prints we saw today had been around for so many generations before us, sending messages through the bleak area for thousands of years. The information center at the front of the site is also an interesting structure, built in a very environmentally friendly way using lids of old tin barrels and other scrap parts to create pleasant patterns on the roof and walls as well as minimizing the impact to the surrounding area. (The design was particularly interested to Simon, being an architect, though my untrained eye could still tell that it was something a bit more unique than a generic government shack.) Around the area, we passed a few more sets of rock piles/mountains standing in stark contrast to the land which was again flattening out with less and less vegetation along the side of the road, filled more with sandy plains and riverbeds marked by the occasional tree.
(The long and winding road down through Northern Namibia. This part is paved because it would be too steep otherwise, but most of the area was driving on sand tracks or rocky riverbeds. The locals actually had to get out of a small truck and walk up the hill, since the truck wouldn't make it.)
(So I decided to run down the steep hill. Luckily I didn't fall.)
(After passing through the mountainous area, the hills flattened out a bit, and there were some dry river beds and a whole lot of brown and yellow - though still pretty scenic.)
(A huge pop scared us, but luckily Will kept control of the truck, and we pulled off to the side to attempt to change the tire, which turned out to be quite an ordeal.)
(After changing the tire in the hot sun with the hydraulic jack and some huge tools and pipe, we had to try to get the flat tire up to the top of the truck, since we couldn't just leave the tire and expensive rim behind. We devised a pulley with me and Will, the driver, pulling from the top, hoping not to fall off. The wheel was ridiculously heavy, and the people underneath trying to push up couldn't do much once we got the wheel right to the very edge.)
(Pulling in vain. I love our faces here. In the end, we couldn't quite get it, so we cut the rope. Before that, we had a great few moments of pain/panic when Will's hand was being crushed by the rope, and he was trying to tell me to tie the rope to the back of the truck (in front of me), and I misunderstood. Good times.)
(After our tire adventure, we actually arrived to our campsite pretty quickly. In the middle of nowhere, a few of us decided to go for a walk and came across a huge rock that we modified to look like a crocodile. Simon is doing his evil laugh as Gursheen and Slavek are being sucked into the jaws of the beast.)
(Jo and Gursheen in the front with me and Slavek in the back. This is the adjacent little mountain that we climbed to see the sunset, looking back over our small, isolated campsite in the background to the left.)
(Some of the ancient rock art of Twyfelfontein. That one lion have a paw print at the end of its tail. I never understand art.)
(Another of the open air pieces of art, strewn amongst massive boulders in a scenic, burnt orange landscape of rocks and small shrubs.)
(This portion of Namibia has a nice desert feel reminiscent of a few parts of the Western US or Central Australia...except not at all.)
(Lizard man. Or maybe lizard woman. I forget.)
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