A straightforward drive today, pleasantly all on tarmac. We stopped briefly at National Tyres in Tsumeb (a very pleasant looking town) as the rear offside tyre had a split between the treads. The manager there advised to carry on and keep an eye on it. We may change it for a spare at some point after we’ve extracted as much wear as we can.

Roy’s is a pleasant place with a well thought out layout with bits of ‘decor’ (horns, skulls, weathered wood, farm bric-a-brac etc) around the tree-shaded pitches and the bar, pool, restaurant area.

The restaurant was enticing, but we cooked spaghetti bolognese though, as at £16 per person the menu was too rich for us!

We are also trying to plan our onward route in as much that will determine the border crossing point. The question is, how to see Victoria Falls and visit Botswana/Zimbabwe without paying for two Zambian visas. Further, we are not sure on what might be possible in Botswana. With the “High cost, low-volume” strategy for tourism, combined with their busiest season being July through to September, it may be that we can’t actually get accommodation on any sensible route. The Bradt guide says that many private sector campsites “do not take pre-bookings from individual campers”.  A further concern is the ‘technical’ nature of some routes. We are only one vehicle and if we should get stuck, the physical work to recover ourselves will fall mainly on Rachel, who balks at any reference to”4×4″ labelled byways on the map. (This is since the River episodes in Palmwag, and despite us having a 4×4 and a reasonable driver!) To be fair, it is very difficult to know what exactly is meant by “4×4″ in any given African context!

If we should get the equations wrong, the consequences are at the very least expensive (time, fuel, repairs, health and well-being), but again, what are we after on this expedition? We will need a plan by tomorrow.

Saturday, 2 July 2011

The Wallas diesel hob has failed again. How are we to rely on it if we were to cross Chobe (a two week ’4×4 route)? I think that a ghillie kettle would be more effective. At least then, we could easily make tea in the mornings!

Our immediate destination is by no means clear. Route planning is being thwarted by Rachel’s intransigence on anything marked as “4×4″ on the map. I am exasperated as in essence this applies to all game areas in Botswana and Zimbabwe! I am at a loss on how to proceed therefore, and have left her with the books and maps to make a decision. However she has avoided this most of the day by being busy washing and tidying the van, as we have a two-day stop. I do empathise, but the continent is not a cakewalk, especially if you want to see and do the things that formed the basis upon which you forfeited your career and immediate wealth……    as well as leaving family, the dog, and friends for the duration. Rant over (for now).

All said, I am confident that we will find a common ground to at least allow progress and the appropriate border crossing for Caprivi.

The choices seem to be:

1) Kasane (Botswana) – get bearings and proceed, possibly to Victoria Falls (Zimbabwe)

2) Livingstone  (Zambia) – then to Kasane and Zimbabwe

3) the Okavango Panhandle (West), Maun, Maremi, Chobe, Victoria Falls (Zimbabwe), Livingstone (Zambia)

4) Livingstone and then to Victoria Falls and Hwange, (Zimbabwe) – missing out Botswana all together.

In the evening we contacted Lucy and Jaco, friends of ours in the UK, to find out their Botswana route of a couple of years ago. Very helpful but they did not have to book ahead at the time. We eventually worked out that they were lucky enough to do their trek before the ‘new’ booking policy came into play. They kindly offered to make some availability enquiries for us, but we are not optimistic regarding Botswana.

Hence current thinking is to go ‘Option 4′ and head for Livingstone and then into Zimbabwe to Hwange National Park. After all it is an extension of all that is in Botswana’s Chobe and Maremi. The animals at least don’t have the visa fees to consider.

Our best day in Etosha. We are on the eastern side of Halali Camp. We were up at 0540 (Rach needed a wee) so we were in the park early. We drove to Goas waterhole first and were rewarded with five or more spotted hyena bathing, one completely submerging itself a couple of times. It is the second time I’ve seen hyena bathe (the other with friends Paul & Gayle in a previous trip to Addo Elephant Park near Port Elizabeth RSA). They seem to enjoy it almost as much as elephants do!

The next stop was en route to Etosha [Pan] viewpoint, at Nuamses waterhole. At first we thought it deserted and were about to drive off, when all of a sudden one, two, and then a herd of about twenty to thirty elephant, excitedly descended for a drink.

A mother politely indicated that we should back off a bit to let her small group access to a bush path that we were parked near, they came from our left and on a different tangent to the rest.

We obliged and once they’d passed, we moved back into position to watch them drink. Some good pictures.Indlovu meets Indlovu. Elephant really are special, they definitely have a common understanding regarding their immediate purpose.

I’d say they communicate well beyond our interpretation and insight. All of their moves as a herd seemed to be with deliberate intent, more so than the apparently more random meandering of solitary bulls.

And then the viewpoint. We were surprised to see, as we approached, the Etosha Pan, that it was, at this eastern expanse, for as far as the eye could see, full with a good couple of feet of water.

Evidence of the unseasonal and heavy rain seen in Namibia this year. Normally the pan holds water for a few months at the beginning of the year only, and then only if the summer rains have been particularly good. Exceptional then.

Of course the saline and the bottomless, soft substrate mean it cannot support large animals directly. [Both in the sense of drinking it and standing on it!] On scanning the vast view with binoculars, the pink ” haze” on the very horizon could be seen to be a moving mass of thousands of flamingos on the other side of the heat haze.

They must have been at least 10 km away. We drove to see if there was a nearer vantage point of this amazing conglomeration, but alas no better view of the throng.

We also saw the rare Black Faced Impala, they are only found in these parts, so we were pleased to them. they added some value to the long drives through Etosha’s denser thickets.

The cheetah's here honestly - but you have to look closely!

We did get a distant spot of a Cheetah (or at least of its ear and tail tips!). Inevitably the giveaway was lots of cars parked on the road with the occupants’ binoculars all trained in the same direction.

We saw a giraffe, who from a distance, looked like he had an even longer prehensile tongue than the norm.

When we got closer we could see that he was actually chewing on a horn.

They do this to obtain minerals not otherwise available in their diet. I’d read about it, but this was the first time I’d seen one actually engaging in this behaviour.

Finally we did a circuit of Fischers Pan and at Twei Palms we were greeted by the sight of a black rhinoceros drinking. The twitchy beast was disturbed enough by our engine noise and ambled off to the thicket, but towards the road we’d just come from. We doubled back to head him off and a nervy engine switch off got us close, but no escape if irritation at the camera shutter noise turned to anger!

I gauged we were downwind and he had room to go his intended path. A fantastic and rare encounter to get that close to one member of this notoriously bad-tempered species.

We would still choose HIP for its more ‘ interactive’ experience on the senses, but obviously Etosha has to be seen if you get the chance. I hope the pictures can convey the reward possible and do some justice to this World Heritage Site. Our few days there were certainly a highlight of the trip so far.

We were not sure what to expect from world renowned Etosha. We drove towards the main camp and on the way to the gate nearly ran over a puff adder. I had to reverse to check it was okay! (Their natural defensive plan A is “do nothing”)

We had been told that it would be best to stay at last night’s venue rather than Okaukuejo Camp in the park itself. People had consistently said along the way that it was’ rather busy’. We thought we’d see how it went. We were late in Safari terms, so it was close to midday as we got to our first waterhole.

From the gate we headed northwards to Okondeka, past miles of flat, springbok laden grassland.

And then the waterhole. Compared to Hluhluwe Imfolozi Park (HIP – KZN South Africa), I was totally unprepared for the volume of game in one place! Burchell’s zebra, Oryx, Ostrich, Springbok, Wildebeest and miles of the famous pan. It was looking like a shimmering sea, although here it was bone dry and this was just due to a mirage effect.

HIP never yields’ herds’. For example zebra there confine themselves to simple harems, not the hundreds in herds on view here. But HIP gets you closer, is far more picturesque, and offers more’ tracking’ and” signs visible from the car.

The places are different and special each, but HIP gets my vote. Etosha is typically Namibian, in that the distances are large between pans and not too much to see whilst en route. Obviously Safari luck is a factor, but in HIP more happens, more often, in a more scenic and varied day, at least in my experience and opinion. Etosha is more ‘drive to a pan and wait’ (as long as it takes) to see what or if happens. I guess it’s a question of preference and style!

We drove to a few more pans on the western side that are open to the public (most accessible roads are to the south of the pan). A few elephant in the distant thicket, a couple of giraffe, and all of the game above.

Sundown was approaching so we had to return to the camp. We booked at the main park office earlier in the day. We drove in to try to find our allocated pitch, and after a tiring day, mainly due to the distances covered, for the second time, I was astounded. After the quiet and sole possession of camps enjoyed to date, this was bedlam.

Cars and people everywhere, tents, roof tents, trailers, caravans, mobile homes, and fires, smoke from braiis and much, much human noise. It looked like a news scene from the Ethiopian/Eritrean famines of the 1980s. Only the mass of humanity being fatter, white, people with food. Our pitch was taken, a resigned Namibian Wildlife Resorts’ official with a clipboard told us. Back to the office. It was dark by the time a slot was found and with the gates shut we were bound to stay.

A quick curry in the iron pot, which was delicious by the way, and at 2130 we went to the only possible redeeming attraction, the adjoining floodlit waterhole. Jackal fearlessly stroll about the camp as we made our way. A girl with a torch, from a melee of overland truck tents comes over. In a Scottish brogue she asks, ” Have you seen a jackal go past?”, “Er, Yes”…. ” Did it have a shoe?” Her flip-flop is lost to the wilderness. Her colleagues jest “You had better watch out he’ll be back for the other three!”

Click this link to hear a recording of Lion and Jackal Etosha at night

At the waterhole we are thrilled to see bull elephants jostle, two black rhino, also tussle horns. Earlier a black rhino on his own is harried off by noisy jackals. And then, lion, one, two, three. The elephant and rhino ignore them as they come and go. The lion drink then lay down for a couple of hours, possibly in ambush, but no luck. (Except maybe for the numerous jackal, who avoid any encounter, which surely would be fatal.) And as a finale, a lioness comes down with three cubs, they follow and copy her as though tied to an invisible line. They drink noisily. The cold bites and the number of people, all of whom have been reverently silent, diminishes. We are last to go, at midnight, as the lions slouched off to stage left, all that it was left was their mortal territory roaring. Etosha Okaukuejo Camp reprieves itself, that was really special. Too dark to photograph without a tripod, so a few blurry pics and some sound recordings will be our evidence, but the memory will be more enduring.

Click this link to hear a recording of a Lion and see if you don’t pooh your pants! One of the most beautiful and mortal sounds on Earth Lion calling territory Etosha

29th June Halali Camp

Up at sun-up and back towards the only pan where we saw lots of game yesterday, Okondoku. A few springbok, lots of jackal skittering about, and an early morning ostrich. Nothing like the Piccadilly Circus of yesterday! Rusks, juice and back, not quite the way we came, to see three young lion walking along the road in the early morning sunshine.

The rest of the day didn’t top that, but I did get a good snap of a lilac breasted roller. I’ve been after that for years. Our 100-400 mm lens is not quite long enough for birding, it’s also proving to be quite soft at anything wider than f8.

The beautiful Lilac Breasted Roller

A quiet night. I am tired and bunged up from our increasingly erratic diet. We go to the eastern side of the park tomorrow. The waterhole here at the much quieter Halali camp is not accessible by sticks or wheelchair unfortunately. The hob doesn’t light and needs two resets. I can see that all of the unpacking and packing to get to the fuse to do this, is starting to get on Rachel’s nerves. I can’t blame her. We still need Internet to feedback stuff like that to OEC, but it is also nice to be away from it.

We have done our bit for Nam’. We had just left Palmwag and at the junction to head towards Etosha, we were flagged down by two chaps, one older one in a sort of Day-glo jacket. We explained that we had no room for a hitch hiker (common in these remote parts with no public transport).” No that’s fine” they explained, ” but you see the grader needs oil, it’s about 50 km up the road.” We accommodated the large drum in the passenger foot well after all it wasn’t far to go. And we began the steady climb towards Grootberg Pass – just the sort of terrain and surface that was going to push the auto box transmission temperature.

It was a spectacular drive. Past a few villages with’ craft stalls’ – crystals of quartz and Springbok horns scavenged in the surround mainly. A huge escarpment dominated the right flank as we climbed and twisted. The gear oil got to 120°C. Cab heating on full and in low box, we continued at a steady 20mph up to 1450m altitude.

A triangular warning sign indicated to look out for elephants, although what we could do on such a narrow road with a precipitous drop, I’m not sure! Best enjoy the spectacular views then. Slow going, up and down – another Namibian landscape too big to photograph. No grader.

Some new terrain briefly, some vertical slates, shattered, framing koppies that looked for all the world like natural’ Boot Hills’ – all very eerie. Goats but no grader – 50 miles.

On we went, at about 80 miles (twice the estimated distance) we gave the oil to three guys resting by their stranded equipment. Bemused thank your, but the system worked. We were nearer the town of Outjo than Palmwag  – why the oil wasn’t sent from there….?!

The road flanking the southern edge of Etosha is straight and climbs slightly for about 2 hours. Thorny scrub is all there is to see on both sides, other than a couple of treacherous, axle stripping, washouts it was a straightforward drive to Etosha Safari Camp, about 20 km south of Anderson gate into the park itself. The site was recommended by Clive and Taniya as being cheaper and better than the one in Etosha.

It was busy and welcoming with a novel quadrangle, bar, pool, restaurant complex. The most ‘ resort’ we’d seen in Namibia but tasteful and relatively quiet. A drunk Ex Pat from West Ham, ex-Australia, now Beijing (with his long-suffering Australian wife) did his best to embarrass Anglo German relations. We retire to bed lest be tarred by him.

Tomorrow, Etosha Park. We are curious to see what it offers and how we proceed from here.

Looking back on May and June …….we have learnt a lot. Rachel has now got more adjusted to African road-life c/w life at home (remember she finished work on the Thursday and was here by the Tuesday – I’d had a few months to get prepped on the psyche). I’ve tempered (a bit) some reckless tendencies (along the “Let’s try it, what could the be the worst that could happen?” sort of approach) – a sensible and happy medium. We may yet make it back alive.

Namibia is huge, it offers a lot, but I think they do a good job of disguising how you could do yourself harm here by not taking it seriously. Both South Africa and Namibia can be cold, and generally that is the case at night this time of year, especially whenever anyone suggests “It’s coming in from the Cape!” (It was 3 1/2°C last night.) We are good bush cooks now both braii and iron pot. African terrain is big and callous, but people are indescribably nice despite, or more likely, because of that. The Internet is crap. Get a dongle before you leave the UK.

We have decided not to press on to Purros. It’s been an eventful day. This morning’s vehicle checks caused Rachel to note that there was a transmission leak from the sump. There was evidently a drop of fluid on the ground. I suggested that as the concession ran Land Rovers as their guide vehicles, we should see if the resident mechanics could check it out for us. Up in the pit, it was simply a matter of hex-keying the drain plug tight. An important lesson in the ongoing need to check your vehicle daily!

As time had gone on, we decided to pay for a permit ($N200) to self-drive in the concession. (Guided drives are $N400 per person.) They advised it was “Quite 4×4″. Knowing the Defender to be capable, we thought to take our time. We entered at the nearby gate and at the first junction, decided to follow a loop, enticingly called ‘Leopard Drive’. It quickly descended down a steep, shale bank to a river. On the opposite side there was only steep bank, impossible for a vehicle to climb. The GPS T4A indicated that the road/track was there somewhere. It was probably too steep and twisted to easily reverse back-up from where we were, and I interpreted that the preferable option was to proceed forward. I read the situation to be, a short ford upstream, to an exposed, flatter, gravel river bank on the opposite side. Surely the road must join there now? – following the apparent washout from the year’s heavy rains. The channel looked innocuous enough with the water being clear enough to see the larger rocks on the river bed. The flow was gentle, and on our intended path it did not look too deep.

I slowly dropped the Azalai in and we lurched towards the drier land of the upstream opposite bank. And then the front offside wheel dropped into a deeper pit and I feared we would be over the bonnet on that side. It was shit or bust, so opening the throttle gently we luckily pulled up the other side and onto the gravel bank. No sign of the road. The shale was also a candidate to impede further traction, in that direction.

At least there was now room to turn around. But where was our original entry point? It was luck that Rachel spotted it just as we drove downstream past it! (And who knows what sort of bother would have been down there as it was in no way recce’d.) We needed to reverse, so Rachel had to get out and marshal the manoeuvre, to make sure that the rear nearside didn’t drop back into the deeper area that caused us trouble earlier on. She acquired the first leech into the bargain!

Relief, we were out! We could easily have got the vehicle stuck there. Thank you to Mike and all at Land Rover Experience, Eastnor, for giving us a semblance of a clue regarding what to do. (Although they’d probably be saying you should have foot recce’d the river first – and rightly so.)

The track seemed easier for a while and we saw lots of skittish Hartman’s Zebra, which are only found in this part of Namibia. We took three hours to cover about twenty-five miles of this enormous area.

We came unstuck on a further river crossing towards our exit gate. The far bank exit was sheer and about 0.9m – we were compromised by the exit angle, especially with the tail-lift.

Again Rachel got out to check. It was touch and go, but probably better than reversing back the way we had come through another rocky, river bed. We nearly made it unscathed, but as it needed some welly and an immediate right-turn on exit, the offside piston mounting dug-in and bent laterally, before prying free, and we were off.

We saw some giraffe near the road after the gate. Despite there not being much too much game on view, the day had at least established the vehicle’s limits as configured.

Back at Palmwag, a mechanic helped us for the second time that day. Ingeniously, he  got a steel length and simply levered the bent mount back into alignment. It worked and the lift could again go down and up – although I don’t know what Paul at OEC would think, given the narrow tolerances necessary to keep the pistons symmetrical. We will have to see whether it lasts the whole trip.

So if that’s “4×4″ in local parlance, and Purros is both extremely remote and “4×4 for the last 100 km’s”, with road washouts earlier in the year making things even worse (or at least an unknown) – we know that discretion is indeed the better part.

Another point to note from yesterday is that as we checked the tyres at the Henties Bay fill up, Rachel commented that both rears were high at 520Kpasc (fronts were both okay at 310Kpasc). She asked the guy to let them down to”480″ thinking they must be hot. Didn’t ring right to me and checking the driver’s log, noted they should be 440Kpasc! I enquire, “How long have they been 480?”. ” A long time.” Is the reply (since Springbok)

I suspect that the ride will be more comfortable from here on in and certainly components (such as the calorifier) may now have more chance of holding up!

By early evening we reach Palmwag Camp. It has been a long and very interesting drive today. The Skeleton Coast Park did not disappoint even if the last four, pre-satellite navigation, shipwrecks are now nearly all returned back to nature and barely noticeable. The different geology in the desert is visually astounding. Black ash like covered dunes to rocky white and any shade of reds and oranges in between.

We leave the sea south of Torra Bay and turn inland towards the Springbok gate. The mountains are spectacular. They look like Scottish Glen postcards, but the colour is from lichens rather than heathers. The climb  of 1400 m causes the transmission to get very hot. We see giraffe, surprising as there does not appear to be much in the way of trees for them to browse upon. Soon after we see some Oryx, who are with our first, lone, Hartman’s Zebra. A little later, some way away we see a breeding herd. We get no photos of the giraffe, by the time the camera is out they have decided to turn tail. The zebra is photographed for ‘proof only’ of seeing this rare species, as he too is beyond aesthetic range for the 400 mm lens.

And all of this game after the Springbok exit gate from the Skeleton Coast reserve. There is the odd village here and there, some with shambolic ‘table craft stalls’. Rachel decides not to stop, I would have liked to, at least at one,as these are not the ‘made in China’ curios seen in most places. There is enough elephant dung on the road to suggest their presence in the neighbourhood.

We get to Palmwag on a dodgy road (the one towards Sesfontein and Purros). The reception advise that “Purros is possible in a day, but the roads are bad.” It strikes me that Clive and Taniya passed this way before the heavy rains of January and February.

Our pitch is next to a river, complete with fish, and either an otter (probably) or (maybe a ) mongoose on the far bank. Flocks of weavers follow its narrow course to their evening roosts. There is a’ whoosh’ as each squadron flies past. Yellow Billed Hornbills make a quiet melody on the far side briefly. We broke our beer fast of two whole days and adjourned to the surprisingly busy bar. This is quite an idyllic spot on the edge of a huge concession that stretches all the way back to the Skeleton Coast.

We decided to eat at the bar in the Boma area. Very nice too (steak) with the best chips I think I’ve ever had, with the possible exception of my grandfather Ken’s! The decision to eat was cemented by the pleasant banter with the staff. The pretty Stella and the diligent, Arsenal supporting Samuel. We talk about the weather and they (particularly Stella) say about how people have died from cold and how crops have been washed away. We talk about our trip. Selfishly we say how much it cost, how difficult it will be to reconcile on our return etc. They tell us how few opportunities there are (to work) in Namibia, despite having a population of just under 3 million.

Stella asks “How do you find our English?”. ” Very good actually indeed.”

” Oh, we learn only after matric. Some guests the other day wrote [on the feedback forms] that our English was bad.” I suggest that they should ask, “Well you talk to us in Damara then!”  Which they don’t quite get. It’s an irony that bilingual people are doing bar work and English (only)-speaking twits are sat on the other side of the bar. In our ignorance, I’d include us too.

We have decided to attempt South Kaokoland. The temptation was to take the easy two day route on tarmac directly to Etosha – but I suspect that an excursion towards Namibia’s NW will show us a wilder and increasingly rare Africa where people and wildlife compete to exist.

The  excellent T4A paper map says helpful things like “Beware Lions”, “Fatal Elephant Attack 1991″ and “Serious 4×4 Only”. We intend to travel via the Skeleton Coast, inland to Sesfontein and then to Purros Community Campsite, before doubling back to Etosha.

We left Swakopmund after midday after a frustratingly long travellers’ cheque transaction and a bit of shopping for provisions. We drove north along the incredibly smooth salt road. It was almost as good as tar, although to stray off it or the discreet pistes that occasionally branch westwards to fishing beaches, would quickly leave your vehicle irretrievably stuck with the very real possibility of it sinking without trace.

To start with flat, sandy desert with hardy plants was all that could be seen,. The driving is complicated by the appearance of many mirages, which make it look as though sand has drifted onto the road. To the east you can just see the more mountainous interior in the distance.

Weather features as again a cold front from the Cape closes. Night time is near freezing.

Some terrain all of a sudden.covered in black, crushed shale and small rocks, martian like.

We divert off to Cape Cross where there is a walkway on the  reserve, which is home to thousands of Cape Fur Seals.

They are noisy, nursing and smell a little like a monkey enclosure (not as bad as we’d been led to believe).

We could have watched for hours but needed to find a camp on this desolate shore before sun-down.

The wind is savage and the surf relentless. We got some good photos.

The harsh truths of nature are evident if you care to look closely. Where the walkway forms a corner, there is not much room for seals to get under the boardwalk. There are several ‘soils’ and a few bones. Scant remnants of rotted carcass can be seen amongst canine spoor.We assume this is a Jackal crime scene. (Hyaena are also implicated according to the guidebook, but he spoor are small). It looks like prime, beachfront territory is everything, and these pups were in the wrong place.

Rachel comments on how the seals appear to have no regard for each other as individuals. They flippantly clamber over their peers in the business of looking for family and traversing the rocks and sand as they come and go to or from the sea.

We drive to “Mile 110″ – a campsite according to T4A. It doesn’t seem to exist, so we divert to the deserted “Atlantic Spa”. A sign off the main road promises “Salts and Therapies”.

The surprised proprietor advises us that “The wind will pick-up and it will be cold up north”. We point the Azalai towards the Atlantic gale and settle in for the night as the only guests. Sandwiches for supper as again the stove refuses to light and there is no chance of a fire outside. Even if the wind was to abate (no chance), there is no wood! We are comfortable in the Azalai and sleep well, despite the constant howl of the wind.

The Skekleton Coast is certainly bleak, but people do make a living. This time of year in the salt mining concessions, and in the summer in tourism, as people from the city (Windhoek) flock to the coast to fish.

The Atlantic Spa has enterprisingly crossed over both industries, as it’s ‘spas’ are trenches JCB dug out of the sandy substrate, with a ladder stuck-in for anyone who fancies a pickling to climb in and out. This time of year they are degraded and more in line with the rest of the salt pans around the area. There is something of the ‘Mad Max’ but all friendly enough.

Nature also has a good toe-hold. Lichens and scrubby plants, seals, gulls and in a salt pan, a single, grey flamingo.

We tried to fix the Netman dongle. They were helpful in the Swakop Netman phone shop and we established that the dongle works on their Windows PC. However, they had no solution to get it to work on the Mac. We went a couple of shops down the high street and an equally keen and helpful chap  thinks he can solve it. We leave the MacBook and return at 1700. The Mac won’t start and needs another reinstall. I lose all the draft blog entries (all of Namibia to date!) which typically enough weren’t backed-up. I wonder whether the blog will be sustainable with the services available to us. Not all internet cafes are accessible, and even when they are, the speeds seem too slow for WordPress, as the server returns timeout errors again and again. We have lost three days just reinstalling the Mac! (You need to be anchored to power). Certainly Netman is a write-off for us.

Rachel got her haircut.It is a new style with a Germanic influence! I thought it was better longer, but she feels more comfortable (pragmatically) with the shorter style. I think about getting mine done, but the price seemed to keep changing, so I thought “stuff this” and will wait or DIY somewhere down the road. Another expensive self-care item was Lamasil (anti-fungal, athlete’s foot stuff). It was coming in at about £25 GBP – so stock-up in the UK before departure! You will be at risk of fungal infections due to shared showers etc on campsites.

We spend the evening in the kitchen at Desert Sky Backpackers planning a route north. The Mac is whirring away in the corner. A trio of French ladies are also planning their route.

A plus for today was a light lunch at the wonderfully quirky ‘Village Coffee Shop’ – do try it out if in Swakopmund. It’s complete with game skull trophies, a VW Camper Van, bucket sinks, and great food and service. Very reasonable too, important for the budget conscious overlander.

Something else to report, that illustrates just how removed from the normal cues and humdrum you can get in vast, expansive Namibia. I was listening to the radio this morning. There has generally been no signal over the last week’s travels. The news keeps reporting the time an hour earlier than that on my watch.

Rachel pops her head ’round the door and asks if there’s anything I need. I suggest that she might enquire the time from someone. She comes back and indeed we have been an hour ahead, remaining on South African time for the last ten days! It hasn’t mattered to us as we have been up with sunrise and to bed when the last log has burned.

It does however solve the lax gate times that we thought we observed at Sesriem. It also means that the SatNav has not been misbehaving. It is strange how the mind can ignore such [now] obvious clues if it is convinced that other, considerations should prevail. In our case that was simply that we didn’t know Namibian time was an hour out from the RSA’s! Daft but true.

We will perhaps need to be a bit more careful and aware, as tomorrow we leave to drive the Skeleton Coast.

Come the morning the bees returned but again no casualties on either side. We left the campsite and continued across the plain towards the dunes. Again Springbok pronked away as they caught sight of us – easy given that the Landie was the only thing that was not grass and stood out from a great distance.

The calorifier stayed in place as the straps we’d used to jury-rig it stood up to the rough, unmade road. The route again caught up with the Kuiseb River as it skirts the classic, orange, sand dunes to our left, with coarser, scrubby and rocky desert to our right. We passed salt pans, granite outcrops, and shattered slate-like fields.

Now and again the odd village, with obvious poverty, drew a living by virtue of the Kuiseb. A ribbon of green trees marking its course was a spectacular contrast with the stark right bank and the orange dunes on the left.

A research station at Goabeb looked like a moon base. As  do most of the self-sufficient camps that we have stayed at in the vast expanses of the Namibian wilderness. (Although this place was relatively much bigger than any of the campsites or farms in terms of buildings)

After a final few kilometres through the sandy scape, we hit the end of the main (tarmac!) road into Walvis Bay – a ‘real’ town. The increase in traffic, although nothing like busy in European terms, is nevertheless startling. It has been quiet since Cape Town!

We look for a garage that can help to refit the calorifier to its mount on the rear crossmember of the Azalai’s chassis. Cymot can’t help, but they do sell iron cooking pots and braii grills – so we buy. The Wallas diesel hob is proving a complete and expensive folly as it needs resetting pretty much daily in order to get it to ignite. That equates to about three attempts and an hour to boil a kettle. Not withstanding that the fuse compartment is under a load of kit, that needs removing, in order to take the fuse out and re-site it to reset the system! Even after all that, it tends to go out, and the whole process starts again…   Fire will be the main tool from here on in.

Cymot do recommend a nearby garage though, JVH. A large and jolly chap gauged the problem and with a flexible ratchet in hand, managed to wedge himself under the Azalai and refit the bolt and tighten the other. No charge. We will need to watch them though, as he couldn’t add locknut. We only have one spare bolt too.

We then drove up the coast to Swakopmund and checked in to the Desert Sky Back Packers. Andy and Louise, from Scotland, are towards the end of their southwards trip to Cape Town, having left in January. They advise that Sudan is an easy week on tarmac. IE Less sandy challenge than Namibia.

We go for a stroll into town, it is cold, fitting for our last contact with the Atlantic seaboard until we return home to Torquay! We again bump into Mannie and Natalie – just as I was loudly swearing at jolting my thumb and decrepit right wrist, as we dropped a kerb in the wheelchair. It made a loud ‘crack’ and I feared it had broken (it smarted like it had), but it was fine, just an artefact of arthritic crepitus.

A beer in Rafters pub (quiet) and a great meal in buzzing Napolina Pizzeria and Grill (recommended).

The road adjacent to Blue Sky Backpackers is busy all day and all night – it is the main drag from Walvis to Swakop’ – sleep is disturbed.

Probably one of the most spectacular drives today. The Kuiseb River pass is surrounded by hundreds of dried tributary valleys that have eroded the plateau into ‘hillocks’ (albeit big ones) to give another alien Namib landscape. The best I can describe is imagine a country of old, coal slag-heaps, only more than seen at any mine, with grasses, colonising a precarious foothold.

The descent into the pass gives views of the river’s ravine and we can see the tyre tracks made by the bikers from Solitaire.They’d travelled that route southwards the day before.  I think I gave them the impression that we too were going to attempt the riverbed (northwards) although it always was our intent to take the perfectly serviceable highroad! Tempting though it would have been if we had a second vehicle, I’m sure it was within the Landie’s capabilities and the bikers concurred.

We camped at another isolated site on the vast plains between the mountains and the Namib Desert dunes, just visible in the distance through the dusty haze probably another 50 km away. An imposing granite koppie is shelter. One other pitch out of several surrounding the protrusion is taken only, but is is a kilometre around, on the blind-side of the rock, so to all intents we are feeling alone. There can’t be any other souls for at least fifty miles in any direction.

We have seen that the game is notoriously shy. Springbok, Ostrich, Oryx and Baboon have all made themselves scarce as we passed. Even the birds are not habituated and the only welcome is from the flies it seems.

We have bought meat and wood at Solitaire and fresh bread baked by the large “Moose” who runs the town, it seems, from his own bakery. This morning we had to hide it to stop Solitaire’s ground squirrels and shimmering emerald blue Cape Glossy Starlings from conspiring to steal it. We only lost a few gnawings off the crust of the bread.

We also crossed the Tropic of Capricorn, twice, as we travel in the general direction, westwards towards Walvis Bay. A first for us on land. Another first…. Rachel tries the long drop, “OK apart from the resident African bees” is the verdict.

In the evening we enjoy the braii and Moose’s cake after we jury rig the calorifier (which heats the water on the  Azalai) as one of its mounting bolts had come loose, Rachel spotted it.

The problem was the African bees had taken a fancy to our waste water tank, just where we, or rather Rachel, needed to work! Luckily they were more assertive than aggressive and all remained unscathed. The calorifier mount needs repair though.