First stop, Elephants. We made it to Etosha with plenty of time to enjoy the Okakuejo water hole where a lone elephant was drinking along with the typical and tentative Sprinkbok and birds galore. Suddenly, from around the low lying dry scrub bush, a second, larger and more dominant elephant ran toward the water hole. In anticipation of the trip, the redhead had been reading articles on elephant behavior, specifically between the hierarchy of bulls with their age old dances of posturing and slow acceptance, and now had a front row seat as it played out. We watched as the two stood as statues, moving only their tree trunk feet as gestures while keeping eyes locked. With each successive photograph, the gap became smaller and the gestures more progressive until finally, the original elephant extended his trunk to provide the dominant bull a drink. From there, they relaxed and drank like old friends at a bar.
The following day was Larry’s birthday, and it was spent creeping along the wandering gravel roads in tight Namibia bush and open plains along the Etosha Pan in the coolest car in the world. Stops were made to stare at a beautiful lone Oryx on golden grass, follow the long lines of various antelope groups tiptoe into a waterhole set before the scorched pan, watch a giraffe devour high thorny branches, look at zebra butts, laugh at the antics and behavior of forty plus elephants of all ages at a muddy water hole, and trade binoculars to spot the late evening stealthy lionesses in the grass. On the way out we stopped at a bar styled as a Shebeen and enjoyed cool draughts to quench parched throats. Later that night, after dinner, the wait and kitchen staff at the lodge surprised us by surrounding the table to sing beautiful birthday and African songs. Krysta and Luke sipped on complimentary cherry champagne while Larry and Kathy spun and danced in their circle of the beautiful voices.
The next day we traveled to scorching Damarland, which became a recovery stop for Kathy who lost a day of her life.
“Now I know what it feels like to be dying,” she said and then disappeared into a room to fight off the exotic cuisine.
Krysta and Luke took a short drive to the beautiful Vingerklip valley and Larry chatted it up with the bartender poolside to find cool from the dry hot wind moving through the Mopane trees. That evening Larry, Luke and Krysta enjoyed a meal while Kathy came back from the light. Not having learned from Kathy’s experience, Luke and Krysta heaped the mystery meat covered in dark gravy.
The following day, Luke kept his eyes on the map that had dark pen circles around towns with gas stations and toilets. During the drive, we stopped at a row of roadside stick huts to look at crafts and so grandma could get her baby fix. She nearly took a little Herero baby boy with her. At another stop, the Himba and Herero joined forces to sell local crafts to the tourists. The Himba woman drove a hard bargain but the Herero women were charming. Nevertheless, we couldn’t stay long because Luke needed a gas station even though the tank was full.
As we moved to the coast, the temperature took a nose dive and everyone’s systems began to move back to normalcy. Even to Luke and Krysta, the 45˚ weather was a shock, but welcome after the temperatures that hovered around 90˚ that past three days. We rolled into Swakopmund and checked into our self catering unit equipped with a fire place and a panoramic view of the now blustery and sandy German coastal town. We enjoyed a simple dinner at a local pub, then went back, lit a fire and were swallowed by the couches in front of wonderfully bad movies.
No rest for the weary. The following morning we were picked up by a riveted Land Rover and taken into the dunes to discover all of the hiding spiders, lizards and snakes by the locally famous Tommy. We stopped to run around on sand dunes, try out lizards as earrings and went on a roller coaster ride through a maze of dunes, sliding to a halt where the view of the Atlantic broke the plain and the cool sandy wind brought a welcome sting to our faces. Later that day, now energized by the cool dessert, we took a nice long brisk walk on the ocean path and caught up on life, watched the sunset on the jetty, then enjoyed a self catered meal with Stellenbosch wine, and more movies beside a glowing fire and great company.
During our third and final day in Swakopmund, New England harbor weather came in like a lion. We wandered the shops between misty rain, then later watched the waves pound the coast beneath heavy clouds and enjoyed a few draughts in a tugboat bar. The plan had been dinner on the jetty but the waves looked to licking the planks under the restaurant so we opted for another night around the fireplace, a perfect rest for the last push, back into the dessert, where the dunes turned red.
The following morning, we passed through the moonscape, the rocky river bed canyons, and whisked alongside the golden plains and red rock mountains to our cowboy country camp just outside the gates of the park. The coastal storm had pushed into the dessert overnight, making for comfortable weather in the normally hot Sossusvlei dunes. With stocking hats on, we cooked a meal as the sun set on the Rostock and the stars pierced through the crisp dessert sky.
After a night on the high wind plain, we started out early to the dunes just after sunrise, stopping to watch a march of Ostrich and the sand spray off the dune spines like high speed snow drift. The near freezing cold had pushed out over night but the early temperatures were still comfortable and we hiked into the high winds to get a view above the surrounds. We were nearly blown off the dune several times but made it high enough on the ridge leading to Big Daddy to see the rare water pooled in the leeward vlei. Unable to withstand the stinging any longer, we jumped down the windward slope into sudden calm and cold sand yet to be touched by the sun. For a long while, we simply sat and rested, digging holes in the sand and watching the antlike movement of others on Deadvlei below us.
The ladies slowly made their way down and played with beetles while Luke and Larry balled up their socks to see if they could roll them down the entire slope, the length of multiple football fields, losing one in the process. Once at the bottom, we posed with the dead trees and walked like shaman across the cracked clayey white vlei, ending finally at a point in the middle, far from all others. The trip had neared its end after experiences of safari wildlife, risky adventures in food, encounters with locals, trips into the living desert, walks on the cool Atlantic, refreshing draughts, fireside company, chuck wagon dinners, and stinging dune climbs. We sat alone, on the chalky plain in an amphitheater of red dune under blue sky, silenced by the strange beauty and new memories of a lifelong experience.
