Sun, Sand, and Soap
(Marie-mail #44)
ETOSHA TO TWYFELFONTEIN
AUGUST 12
We broke camp early and headed west down dirt roads to the desert and Damaraland.
sleepers
Most of the group fell asleep. There was no reason not to. The scenery was repetitive -- dirt, sand, and scrubbrush. Whenever a car approached, windows were rolled up to avoid the inevitable trail of dust that followed. We were all tired and filthy when we reached our lunch stop at the Petrified Forest.
Shawn gave Lars $20 Namibian and instructed him to pay the guide at the end of the tour. Guides were compulsory, as the Namibian government didn't want to risk tourists carrying off bits of 260 million year old tree trunks.
Unfortunately, Petrified Forest guides were renowned for their uselessness. Ours was apparently more energetic than most as he spoke about eight sentences instead of the usual one or two.
Petrified Forest
"This is the long one," explained our guide, pointing to an especially long piece of petrified wood.
"This is the big one." This wood was wider than the others.
"This is the nice one." The guide pointed to another piece, not discernabily different from the others.
Sam, meanwhile, was outraged over the guide's pay.
stark landscape
"Marie, don't you think that Shawn's company could afford to pay this man more than three US dollars?" he asked.
"I don't know, Sam," I said, noncommittally. But I did know. The going rate was $1.25, so we were already overpaying slightly. The guide, meanwhile, was nearly useless and I wasn't sure the Petrified Forest should even be bothered with at all.
Sam gave $20 Namibian of his own to Lars.
"Please give him this as well." Lars agreed with reluctance.
The guide pretended to be oblivious to the activities around him, but he did then strike up a conversation with Sam.
"Do you work for the company?" asked the guide.
"No," said Sam. "I am a tourist."
"Oh. What country are you from?"
Sam found this hilarious.
"I am from Namibia!"
Sam pulled me aside later.
"Marie, do you know why the guide asked me where I am from?
"Um, because if you were Namibian you wouldn't go to the Petrified Forest on a tour? You'd just go there in a car?"
"No. It is because Namibians don't do this. They are not tourists. They do other things, like spend time with their families or work."
Uh-huh.
Shawn had made us lunch while we'd been on our riveting tour. Not surprisingly, the dish du jour was tuna surprise. There was one surprise, though -- it tasted unique. He's made a mayo curry sauce and added it to the tuna and vegetables. I took notes -- soon I'd be in a Dragoman cook group and would be fixing tuna surprise on a regular basis.
another roadside attraction
We drove on, past hand-painted "Petrified Forest" signs which offered two or three pieces of wood and little competition for the real thing. We arrived later at Aba-Huab Campsite, one of the only sites in Namibia owned by a black Namibian. After quickly setting up our tents, we went off to see the "Organ Pipes."
women hold up half the world
"The Organ Pipes," explained Shawn, "are rocks that make a musical sound when you strike them."
"Nooo!" exclaimed the amazed Yaron.
We climbed down to the Organ Pipes. Everyone took a turn striking rocks with rocks.
Organ Pipes
"No!" Yaron was more vehement this time. The Organ Pipes sounded nothing like their namesake.
"Not bellissimo," observed a non-Italian.
rock formation in the shape of a lion's claw
Twyfelfontein was more of a success. It featured 6,000-year-old rock art, etchings of animals in sandstone, preserved from erosion by the reliable, dry climate.
have you seen these etchings?
Back at camp, I got in a speedy, cold shower -- just before a ferocious duststorm kicked in and made me filthy again.
Our dinner was traditional Namibian mealie meal, a corn porridge similar to polenta. Unfortunately, Shawn screwed up and added too much water. Sam was appalled. They both tried stirring and beating the cornmeal, but it was still too watery.
Marie with a rock shaped like Africa
They conferred quietly, in Afrikaans.
Sam ran off to the camp store to buy more meal. He returned twenty minutes later in a pickup truck.
"The store was closed so I went to the owner's home and had him open up. And then I asked him for a ride back."
Dinner was a success. Besides the maize meal, there was enough sweet potato and gem squash for all.
TWYFELFONTEIN TO SWAKOPMUND
AUGUST 13
It was a long drive down the Skeleton Coast to Swakopmund. We stopped at Cape Cross en route, to see (and smell) the enormous seal colony there. It was also the location of the first and only dirty toilets we'd encountered in Namibia.
Cape Cross seal colony
"I'm excited to do my laundry," I said as we approached Swakopmund. "And to go to the camera store."
"I'm excited not to have to pump up my bed," said Shawn.
Yaron and Selmi
Sam left us at an intersection in Swakopmund. He'd had enough touring, and was catching a bus back to Windhoek. The rest of us were staying in A-frame chalets at the Swakopmund Rest Camp. The six Italians took one chalet (jokingly calling it Little Italy), while the other four of us spread around the remaining six-person A-frame.
I dropped off my laundry (the New Yorker in me refuses to die completely), and headed to the camera store, where a man who is probably a very good photographer but not much of a repairman explained to me that Canon cameras were not popular.
Stifling a snicker, I promptly removed myself from the premises and visited a competitor. The German man behind the counter fixed my camera with a single touch.
I thanked him profusely and went outside to try out my lens. It didn't work.
Swakopmund sunset
I went back in, and the German man cleaned the contacts with a spray. It worked again.
"Take the camera out tomorrow," he said. "Use it all day and let me know how it goes."
SWAKOPMUND
AUGUST 14
It was adventure activity day in Swakopmund. Actually, every day in Swakopmund was adventure activity day, but today was special because we were able to take advantage of it.
go down one of those on a piece of board??
Lars and Carina went shark fishing. Yaron joined them to take photos and ended up fishing a bit himself. Rita went for a walk in the town, a little slice of Germany in the middle of Namibia. The rest of us signed up for an authentic Swakopmund sport, practiced only in a few places worldwide.
trudging up the dune
Sandboarding! It wasn't something I'd dreamed of doing, but it was was people did when they came to Namibia.
Selmi on deck
Beth from the local Adventure Center drove five of us out to the dunes. Shawn joined us later, after patching -- again -- the ever-widening hold in the van's gas tank.
I was seriously doubting the wisdom of my joining the expedition as we slogged up enormous sand dunes. We were all wearing helmets and gloves, and carrying flimsy pieces of particle-board. Additionally, I dragged up my camera and new lens.
"The problem with sandboarding," my friend Nikki had told me, "is not going down the dunes. That's easy. It's climbing back up that's the hard part."
She was right. Breathlessly and swearing internally, I arrived at the top only to realize that now I was expected to go down, before coming back up again.
One by one, we sledded down the dunes. To slow down, we'd drag our feet. To go faster, you just go down a steeper dune.
Marie has a go at it
My zoom lens quit working immediately. Perhaps it didn't like heat? Who knew? I contented myself with taking non-zoom photos of our group, which also excused me from going down -- and climbing -- up every single one of the dunes.
you slow down with your feet
But I couldn't get out of the tandem ride. We were six -- and two went on each board.
I went on Shawn's board, and an am embarrassed to report that my inferior sandboard-navigation skills caused us to wipeout dramatically.
"Both hands," screamed Shawn, referring to our rudder -- my hands.
prelude to a wipeout
A second later, I daintily slid off onto my behind. Shawn fared much worse, and managed to do several 360 degree flips on his way down to land on his face.
what happens to your shoes when you sandboard
Selmi was brave enough to go skydiving after lunch, but I contented myself with a shower and a stroll around Swakopmund.
proud sandboarders
Swakopmund is a quirky town. It's a seaside German-flavored town, where German is spoken more than English, Afrikaans, or any Namibian dialect. I window-shopped, listening to the German accents around me.
Namibia hasn't been German since 191, and it was only a German colony for less than twenty years. Nevertheless, German-Namibians have kept their mother tongue and traditions alive and undiluted.
SWAKOPMUND TO SESRIEM
AUGUST 15
Charlie joined us on the three-day trip to Sesriem. He took Sam's tent, and while not as agreeable as Sam, he was no doubt just as much of a character.
A 26-year-old Brit, Charlie showed up in camoflage trousers and a cowboy hat. He liked to hum along loudly to his Walkman, and liked to talk. About anything.
Still, Charlie was a hard worker. He could be counted on to carry his weight, except in conversation.
We drove south along dusty dirt roads to Sesriem, passing through the port side town of Walvis Bay on the way. Walvis Bay was, until the mid-nineties, a small outpost of South Africa in the middle of Namibia.
The sun glared down, and as usual everyone wore sunglasses. The scenery was uncomplicated -- dusty, brown and yellow, with small shrubs and sand.
Sesriem campsite
As usual, the drive and the campsite were both dusty and hot. It's part and parcel of being a tourist in the desert. In Africa, I was forced to readjust my ideas about travel. Being outside a tent meant getting dirty. Being inside a tent required being outside in order to get inside, and that meant getting dirty. I was now getting filthy on a regular basis, and was also eating mystery lunchmeat on a regular basis without too much complaint.
The requisite six or more overland trucks dotted the campsite, but we got a prime spot with easy access to the two ablution blocks.
I tired early of listening to Charlie prattle on about his favorite bands, and even managed to stay partially clean all the way from the shower to my tent.
AUGUST 16
We were leaving at 5:15 a.m. The point was to be first in line at the gate to Sossuvlei dune, so that we wouldn't be stuck in line behind dozens of overland trucks.
Sunrise at Sossuvlei is one of the prime attractions in Namibia. It's when all the interesting shadows are cast across the orange-red dunes, but the gate to the park itself doesn't open until 5:30. It's 65 kilometers from the gate to the dune parking lot, and then you have to hike the last four kilometers to the biggest dune -- Sossuvlei -- from there.
It's actually impossible to get to the top of Sossusveli by sunrise, so Sahwn advised us to get as close as we could before scrambling up any old dune.
There was only one hitch. At 5:30, we were still at camp.
Yaron and Selmi were missing. And the sun wasn't going to wait.
Finally, they showed, strolling casually from their morning ablutions. Carina, who was as quick to anger as she was to laugh, gave them a tongue-lashing.
"For god's sake, get in. We're fifteen minutes late."
They jumped in, toiletry bags and all. An angry Carina was not to be ignored.
We raced to the gate. We'd missed the line, but the guard insisted on making sure that all the Crazy Kudu paperwork was in order. Shawn chafed and waited.
Then, we joined the daily Sossusvlei Rally, already in progress.
Zoom! We passed an overland truck. And then wooshed past another. Shawn was used to being first in the Sossusveli Rally and wan't going to let a late start keep him back.
Ahead, we saw a white van, identical to our own save for the "Wild Dog" logo on the side.
"Should I take the Dog?" asked Shawn.
"Take the Dog! Take the Dog!" we yelled.
He dusted them utterly. We pulled into the Sossusvlei parking lot five minutes ahead of the nearest competitor.
"First again," declared our cocky would-be Wacky Racer.
Us tourists piled out and briskly hiked down the four-wheel-drive road towards the biggest dune of the pack. Actually, we didn't do anything briskly. Slogging four kilometers through thick sand can hardly be called brisk.
Marie on a dune
"Sossusvlei is the tallest dune, but they're all basically the same," said Shawn to me quietly. "Don't go up Sossusvlei. It's packed with people, the Disney World of dunes. Go up a nearby dune and look at Sossusvlei from a distance."
So I did, clambering up an untouched orange dune to view the 300 kilometer wide sea of sand from a distance. Sossusvlei was packed with people looking tiny and crawling about.
Back at the car park, Shawn had our breakfast ready. He'd also put out a bowl of water, and birds flocked to it, desperate for a bit of moisture.
thirsty birds
"Everyone feeds these birds," he explained. "But no one thinks to give them water."
Sesriem Canyon
We left Disney-dune behind, stopped at Dune 45 and Sesriem Canyon, and had the rest of the day free until sunset.
from Dune 45
We didn't bother with the ride back to Sossusvlei for sunset, instead just climbing the dune behind our campsite. The sun was not cooperative and plopped undramatically behind a cloud. Yaron and Selmi were forced to create their own drama, as they desperately tried to push immoveable Lars and experienced Shawn down the dune. They succeeded only in getting tossed down repeatedly themselves.
sunset over the dunes
Our dinner of vegetable curry and s'mores was marred only by the fact that there were dishes that needed washing afterwards.
Selmi gets tossed down a dune
"All right, guys, washing," said Shawn. No one got up to volunteer for dish duty. Everyone had done dozens of dishes over the last ten days and no one felt like leaving the warmth of the fire.
"WASHING!" repeated Shawn, who had just cooked us dinner. (I was active in s'more cooking, and earned the right to ignore the dishes that night.)
Everyone stared at the ground. Finally, Selmi and Rita got up. Selmi was wrapped in a blanket, which he took with him. He yelled at Yaron in Italian. Yaron said something back, which I took to be "you've got to be kidding."
partial group photo
Selmi yelled again. Yaron got up, and the three went off to do the dishes.
SESRIEM TO WINDHOEK
AUGUST 17
We filled up with gas and tore off down the gravel road, hoping the soap-and-sugar patch would get us back to Windhoek. The van was leaving on another ten-day trip in the morning and was scheduled to go in for a new gas tank the minute we pulled back into town.
Carina climbs a dune
The patch didn't hold, and the hole kept getting bigger. We pulled over constantly to add soap to the tank, and filled up twice more. I tried to occupy Shawn by asking him to teach me Afrikaans, but all I remembered afterwards was that "buy a donkey" means "thank you very much."
fixing
The third time we pulled over to check the soap patch, I took the opportunity to go pee behind a rock. When I got back to the van, there was a new surprise waiting for me.
"You're not going to believe this," said Shawn. "We have a flat."
The tire was changed quickly, and we drove on.
Leaking gas, tired, and hot, we finally hit paved road at the town of Rehoboth.
fixing the petrol tank
"This is a horrible town," said Shawn. "I had to work here for six months as part of my practicum, and on the first day someone asked me to shoot their dog."
He had told the man that he didn't have a gun, and suggested he take his sick dog to the vet next door.
"A minute later, I heard a noise and went outside. They were chopping the dog's head off with a shovel."
The fuel gauge indicated a half-tank left as we pulled out of Rehoboth. We hemorrhaged fuel the last ninety kilometers to Windhoek, and arrived at the Crazy Kudu office burning fumes.
The owner of Crazy Kudu walked up to the van as soon as we'd stopped.
"Sorry we had to bring you all here but the van has a petrol leak."
No duh.
The Italians were sent off in one Crazy Kudu vehicle, while the rest of us left in another. I picked up my excess baggage from the Cardboard Box, mailed home my broken camera lens, and bought a new one. I ate dinner at "Spur" steakhouse, where a group of Namibian waiters dressed as Native Americans and sang "happy birthday" to a little girl.
Lars and Carina met me at the bus stop later in the evening. Together, the three of us boarded the Intercape Mainliner bus for the 19-hour ride to Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe.
NEXT: Charging elephants and complicated currency!
