True North Travels

Leaving Spitzkoppe for Swakopmund today. But unfortunately, it seems that the fridge has been using the battery rather than the mains power, so the battery is flat. Not long after I open the bonnet, three local guys huddle round and help me. I assume that they are mechanics from the petrol station, and let them poke around. One of them starts fiddling with, and loosening, the battery connectors, but says "Go ask in the petrol station for a mechanic!" Luckily, they don't do too much damage.

Fortunately, the Dutch couple we met come to our rescue, Bart quickly jump starts our car, and we're off to Swakopmund.

The first stop is a curious little rest stop in the middle of the desert. It looks like a 1950's American gas station, and is full of rusting old pickups. They have a famous apple pie, which is pretty good.

The next leg of the journey takes us deep into the heart of the desert. We enter a strange, almost alien landscape, which is completely flat as far as the eye can see. The occasional canyon or rocky outcrop punctuates what is otherwise extremely inhospitable desert. You would not want a flat tyre out here.

We arrive into Swakopmund mid Afternoon, after briefly stopping to take pictures of a few Flamingos outside town. Swakopmund is a strange German-looking town in the middle of the desert. It could almost be in the middle of Bavaria. We stop into a German Beerhouse and order tall, frothy Weisse beers. There is German beer memorabilia on the walls, and they sell good-looking Pretzels.

The couple next to us strike up a conversation. We talk about Coronavirus, which is all anyone is talking about nowadays, and the husband of the couple tells us to "follow the money". "You'll see," he says, " they already have the cure, but couldn't sell it. Now there's a global pandemic, people will buy the cure!" It's a good way, normal way, to start a conversation.

Steering the conversation into more normal territory, we talk about our plans here. We had thought about driving to Sandwich Harbour, where the giant sand dunes plummet straight down into the ocean. They warn us against this, though, by saying that a local guide drove out there recently, and the tide swept his truck away. We're put off the idea.Read more

We get up early to take the rooftop tent down and to get in the park for 6am. There's a small queue of people already waiting at the park gates, so we park up in line. At 6am on the dot(!), we enter the park. Everyone is racing through the park, trying to get to the sand dunes for sunrise, which should be around 6.45. It's about 50km to the main dunes, so it's no time to take it slow.

As the sky turns lighter, we can start to make out the distant shapes of far-off dunes. They're so big that at first, we don't think they can be dunes. But surely enough, as the sun starts to rise, we find ourselves surrounded by blood-red sand dunes, taller than skyscapers. It's magnificent.

The sun hasn't yet risen by the time we make it to Dune 45, one of the climbable dunes. We put on our walking shoes and set off up the dune, which looks far more of a challenge than we imagined. As we get to the base of the dune, an owl swoops down and stands before us in all its wisdom. With a glint in its giant eyes, it studies us, considers us up to the task, and allows us to proceed.

It's a fair old hike up the dune, and we are racing against the clock to beat the sun. We sink into the dune with every step, and our boots fill up with sand, bogging us down further. One or two people give up, and just sit on the slope of the dune. We're determined, though, and we make it to the summit JUST in time for the sun to peek its way up over the rugged dunes and spill light over this bizarre landscape. All around us, we see monumental dunes, curving one way and disappearing another, meandering out to the horizon. It's the desert landscape that stories are made of.

After taking in the sunrise, we head back down, empty out our boots and head off to Deadvlei. This is the remains of an old riverbed that dried up. The trees that once drank from the river's waters died, but were petrified in the intense dry heat. It's another walk through the sand to get there, and it seems that all the signs have been covered by the shifting dunes. We head slightly the wrong way and start climbing up another massive dune. When we catch sight of Deadvlei, it's at the base of the dune, 150 metres or so below us. So, we turn, and throw ourselves down the steep slope, running down the dune, sending sand everywhere. It's fantastic fun.

Deadvlei itself is magnificent. It is watched over by the biggest dune of them all- the 300 metre "Big Daddy", which is just the worst name I can think of. It is possible to climb the dune, but it's a fair old way, and even at 9am, it's reaching 36 degrees. With limited supplies of water, we decide against it.Read more