After a 9 hour day, including the 4th puncture on Namibian roads in 5 days, we arrived in Paarl, 50km East of Cape Town, on Saturday evening, where we’re kindly being put up by Dave and Vicky and their two lovely kids.
On Sunday, we took a jaunt down to Cape Augilhas, the southern most point of Africa, and the symbolic end-point of our trip.
Ben and Finn are to be sold to a couple in Zambia to start new lives as rental vehicles. We’re spending a few days relaxing with Adrian and Leanne, and Dave and Vicky, and sorting out 101 logistical things to end a trip like this (buying suitcases, shipping home 100kg of tools and equipment, buying new tyres, valeting the trucks…).
All the images from this diary are available to view in a Picasa web album, and all the videos are on my youtube page – feel free to browse. We will post a couple more videos and, once we’ve had time to settle in back home, we will post some concluding comments and thoughts about the trip.
For now, it’s enough to say that it has been probably the most rewarding experience of our lives, that we are delighted and chuffed to bits to have made it. For those reading this who are thinking of or planning similar trips, go for it. It’s easier than you think once you’re on the road.
Despite the name, I was oddly surprised when we passed a sign with the river’s name on it: “Fish.”
We spent three nights around the canyon. There was only enough to see or do for one, but as our last stop before Cape Town, we wanted to relax, unwind and fix 2 of the 3 punctures we’d received in the last 4 days (the first of the entire trip, not counting the knifing in Harare). The Third? It was beyond repair:
The canyon was spectacular, being one of the deepest anywhere. There’s a 5 day hike along its length, which is reputed to be one of the best hikes of its kind in the world. Perhaps we should have left a couple more days and attempted it?
As an interesting ps – ten points to anyone who can correctly identify what is going on here.
The southern shore of Namibia is a rich diamond mining area. For 100km from the coast, it is a closed zone, with entry only permitted to certain areas, normally with an escort.
One exception is the old diamond mining town of Kolmanskop, first inhabited around 100 years ago and fully abandoned, when the current larger town further into the region was completed, about 50 years ago.
The town has been preserved by the dry weather and lack of footsteps, but is steadily being taken over by the desert.
On the way home, we took a quick detour to Halifax Island. Which is famous for one thing and one thing only: penguins. Although they were a long way away, the sight of small waddling animals, like a huddle of railway controllers shuffling around in the gale, was unmistakable.
If ever you try to hold a picture of a desert oasis in your mind, Sossusvlei would pretty much match it.
Once in 10 years, the Tsauchab River flows this deep into the Namib desert, and fills the “vleis” (pans) with water. 500 years ago, dunes drifted across the entrance to the old pan, blocking the water from accessing it regularly enough to sustain the trees that live on the deep ground-water. The result is Deadvlei.
This year has seen a freak heavy rainfall in Southern Africa – far more even than the regular 10 year cycle. Although now several months after the rains, several of the pans still hold water. Ducks swim happily in the desert, with abundant large mammal life of jackals, oryx, springbok and various cats (identified only by prints). Even Deadvlei had seen water again for the first time in a generation, although it was dry again by the time of our visit.
It seems we’re inspiring knock-off expeditions – Robert and Susan (aka Surfers 1 and 2) were recently in Benin:
A full day’s drive over mountain passes took us from Windhoek to the Naulkluft Mountains. An extension of the Namib desert, they rise to nearly 2000m, forming a plateau above the surrounding area.
There are walks of up to 120km, and a self-guided 2 day 4×4 trail, but we opted for a circular 10km hike up to the plateau, then down into a gorge that cuts through the middle of it. With park fees paid, the sightings of the day included oryx (large desert antelope), mountain zebra, springbok and ostrich.
The flora was no less dramatic, with cacti dropping feelers down to semi-permanent water pools in a mostly dried up river bed.
The day became more interesting at bed time when, as I stepped out of the shower, a small yellow scorpion stung the sole of my foot. Ow. Now three days later, it’s mostly better, but I still can’t feel my two middle toes particularly well…
“Immigration here must be pretty slack,” Adrian commented. “I just wrote ‘Cardboard Box, Windhoek’ as my address, and they seemed happy.”
With Windhoek being the final crew change-over city, we needed a base for over a week. The Box is one of two backpacker hostels in Windhoek, and the only one to allow 4×4 camping. Ems, the resident jack-of-all-trades, lives in a disabled VW combi camper van. He’s lived in it for 6 years, and used to drive it here and there, but then someone raided it for parts while he was away. So now it has a widescreen TV and a row of seats outside, but doesn’t go anywhere.
On our other side was another much more obviously disabled VW, concreted to the ground. This was just one of the hostel’s rooms.
Arriving back from Etosha for our final night, we found Ems had actually moved into a dorm. “My bus is too cold!” It had finally started dropping below zero at night.
Windhoek itself is a mix-and-match city. In a complex racial mix, there are San (Bush People), Bantu (Sub-Saharan Africans), Coloureds (mixed race) and whites (mostly Afrikaans). The architecture reflects that mix, with the mixed history of African, British, German and Afrikaans influence, which took turns ruling it until the early 90s.
It is also the most developed city we’ve been in since Europe. There has been a significant middle class in the cities since Malawi, but the gaps were filled with poverty: street children, beggars, hawkers. Windhoek gives the feeling of a small European city, not unlike Belfast, with the gaps left open and airy. Supermarkets felt more like Asda than Harrods – no longer for the elite. The downside is that there are, basically, no food markets, making shopping a much more mundane business than further north – no more hacked-lump-o-goat for us.
Two days in Etosha were enlightening. After the rest of Africa, it felt rather tame: with electric fences round the whole park, and proper tourist resorts in 3 fenced areas including shops, swimming pools and petrol stations, it was hardly Tanzania. Artificial watering holes have been added near all the camps and, since the water in them is purer than the natural water holes, the animals gravitate to them.
Having set themselves up as a first world tourist resort, an attempt has been made to implement an advanced booking system for the campsites. This is broken and unnecessary. A first-class camping site with pre-booking would be lovely, but what is wrong with a large field with no set sites, so that spontaneous tourism could still be encouraged? We couldn’t book in advance (we only decided we were going the day before), but had no real problems. We’d recommend the same for others – when you arrive at the camp, tell them you booked at the gate (which we had sort of tried to do). You’ll get talked to like a small child for 2 or 3 minutes, and then put in a “special” site (“special” being used in the same way as TV uses it for children – ie not as good as the rest) an unofficial way of handling unbooked guests, as they can’t exactly refuse to let you stay.
That all said, this is still an enormous area of wilderness, and worth seeing. The roads are excellent – the main ones are designed for 2WD saloon cars, and even the “bad” ones were absolutely fine.
After the hunt, the two lionesses returned to the watering hole, drank for a while, then wondered over to tuft of grass from where 4 young cubs appeared. It made our day.
We saw quite a few zebras, like the one on the right, with discontinuous stripes. Until we saw the hunt, with the injury to the zebra’s flank, we couldn’t work out how they would form. Then it made perfect sense.