Since Luke's Arrival...

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At the end of February, Krysta and Luke reunited to live under the same roof again, an anticipated event since her departure last October. Daily life has settled into a routine once again filled with snooze alarms, work, exercise, grocery shopping, trying to kill mice with 2 x 4’s, setting off work alarms, sewage overflows, lightning strikes that melt dsl boxes . . . you know, the usual stuff.

Krysta’s work continues to challenge her and build up her experience on the Namibian health front. Just yesterday she visited the street bars of Katutura buying samples of home brew to be tested for content, calories, and potential health risks. Krysta was able to obtain one of the vaulted secret recipes of one of the local spirits during conversation with the barkeep . . . fermented tires and dirty clothes found in the road (yes, fermented tires and dirty clothes found in the road). Beyond unhealthy neighborhood drink, Krysta has been in the villages and health care facilities in the north to assess the capacity of the regions’ immunization services.

Luke continues to await a work visa but in the meantime has taken a crack at building a desk, running in an off-road triathlon (giving him a rash), and now volunteers 2 hours a day to help kids learn math on a computer program. His sideburns are a big hit with the 2nd graders, who pull at them like they are investigating some mythic hobbit (Luke needs a haircut).

Some have requested more pictures of Windhoek. Here are a few.

View of Krysta Probably E-mailing Lindsay While Luke Stands on the Braai (In The Reflection)

The Desk That Luke Built

Typical View of Windhoek From Our Neighborhood

Our X-34 Landspeeder with Atari Rims

Another View of Residential Windhoek

Swakopmund II

The last time we visited Swakopmund, we were late for the bus and berated. The reason we took the bus is because we did not have a vehicle (October 2009). We purchased a car shortly thereafter (November 2009) and it just got out of the shop (March 2010). Despite the fickle nature of the vehicle, we had to leave the city, so we went back to Swakopmund on our own terms so we could be as late as we wanted.

Swakopmund reminds Luke of South Haven, Michigan. We’ve enjoyed beers at sunset, wandered in and out of art and antique shops, rolled up our jeans and walked along the Atlantic, sipped morning coffee seated on the wide walkways, and licked our fingers clean of dripping ice cream cones. This past trip we camped one night on the outskirts of town on a sandy slope radiating from the shores of the ocean. We watched the sunset and ate German sausage around a windy fire.

Windy Fire at Sunset



Atlantic Sunset

The next day we drove south to the port city of Walvis Bay, a much more industrial place due to the port (Michigan City – ish?). On the fringe of town, a road leads south into the Namib Desert and provides world renowned bird watching. Apparently people die on this road by being swallowed by the sand and ocean, so we did not venture, but we did park at the edge and watch the flamingos for a while.

Flamingos in the Desert

From flamingo’s, we drove west into the desert to Dune 7, reputed to be one of the highest dunes in the region, to get some exercise. Typically, the location is popular for a sundowner (drink at sunset), but we figured that it would be more memorable to go during the hottest part of the day. The climbing techniques we observed on the burning sand included wrapping plastic bags around your feet, putting shoes on your hands, just running up and screaming, and what looked the most comfortable, 20 quick steps climbing on all fours followed by a 2 minute rest on your butt with all fours in the air. After roughly 30 sets of 20, we made it to the top. The view was stark, 360° of sand, and a gritty wind blowing around 30 mph (48 km/h), so we did not linger.

We likened the drive back to fog, the sand blowing so strongly across the road, we could only see about 20 feet in front of us. We cooled off on the ocean once again. Krysta skipped around the tidepools finding crabs and Luke took pictures of the shipwreck being hammered by the incoming tide (and of Krysta happily playing in the pools like a little girl in pigtails).

Shipwreck

The next week when we returned, our mechanic yelled at Luke for driving the car in the desert. I guess no matter what, if you go to Swakopmund, expect a tongue lashing.

Rostock

Despite the disappointment of our mechanic in our leaving the city the weekend prior, we left again. This time, we headed southwest into the spare bushplains on the endless gravel roads, destined for the Rostock Ritz guest farm in the Namib Nukluft mountain region. After leaving the tarred roads of Windhoek, we traveled 220 km, seeing maybe 10 cars in 3 hours. Half of those cars were within the first 20 km, and another car was a horsedrawn buggy. We passed through no towns, and saw maybe 3 or 4 homesteads / farms along the way.

Gravel Roads

Our unfurled map indicated two separate passes along the route. After driving three fourths of the way, we arrived at the first pass, the Gamsberg. This was a mountain pass, where the road dropped around the non-glacial striated peaks. Distinct lines aged these hills like tree rings, the stripes likely caused by a history of ephemeral rivers in the rainy season.

Lusta Gerndtson Dropping Into Gamsberg Pass

Just before dropping into the pass, we saw a red clown car vibrating from around the bend, giving us confidence that the X34 could make the trip. And make it it did, around the blind switchback turns, sometimes winding around a pinnacled hill, sometimes across a perched dry slot canyon river bed. The road spit out into the emptiest of empty valleys, a bizarre golden landscape backdropped by smooth distant Rostock.

The second pass was a much shorter dive in and climb out of a small canyon. As we rose from the crags, we saw the final four cars along the trip, parked alongside the Tropic of Capricorn sign for a picture. A quarter mile later, Rostock Ritz. We enjoyed some cold beverages at the lodge and caught a glimpse of the lone zebra that wanders the area. Though we did not get a chance to see inside the rooms, one could imagine Obi-Wan Kenobi hunched over some ancient Jedi Text. The bizarre nature of the landscape smacks of the boyhood home of Luke Skywalker.

Jedi Zebra

Camping here was unlike anything we’ve done in the U.S. The emptiness is a golden ocean, not without its swells and rostock icebergs. Our campsite floated in this ocean. We were told we would be the only ones there that night, but as we rolled up, we noticed an army green boxy and riveted Land Rover with some age, housed by a traveling retired couple . . . squatters. Luke busied himself making sunfilters while Krysta worked on CDC reports in the shotgun of the X34 until her presence was requested to watch the sun expand and disappear.

We prepared a huge quesadilla and mixed veggies over the braai while a very social black backed jackal drooled at the edge of the fire glow and a mouse scurried over the warm stones. We did not roll into the tent hungry. We were sweaty however, the temperature dropping only to around 30°C (Isn’t the desert night supposed to be freezing?). The jackals spoke to each other all night. It would start with a barely audible and far off chirpy high pitched howl kilometers out in the darkness to the west. To the east, a returning response, twice as loud, and half as far would follow. Suddenly we would be surrounded by dozens of chirpy howls, and most of the time, one or two would be within 20 feet of the tent. It was a fitful sleep of sweat and jackals.

Krysta amongst the icebergs

Camp

Ocean Swell

Sunfilter

Rostock

Namibia's Big Sky Country

A second squatter couple arrived on a motorcycle during dinner. We were fairly certain we were the only English-speaking couple at the site that night. In the morning, while packing up camp in a daze (as Krysta sat closer to a snake than she had ever intended in the latrine), Luke eavesdropped on a fully German conversation between the younger man on the bike and the older man with the white beard and riveted old model Land Rover.

Haben sie in Hitlers Armee zu kämpfen?

Shortly thereafter, the army green Landrover disappeared over the golden horizon to become lost in the endless gravel roads. We hope to return to this beautiful and strange place once winter arrives in earnest.

An Aerial View of the Emptiness Where WWII Soldiers Wander