Fish River Canyon

Friday April 6th – Good Friday in Namibia

After an uneventful first night in the tents, we broke camp early and head north to the border crossing into Namibia. The border between South Africa and Namibia is delineated by the Orange River (and it is NOT orange in colour). Although I suspected that the border crossing would be hectic and crowded, in fact it was almost deserted with only a few other people quietly wandering around. We cleared South African immigration quickly and crossed the Orange River into Namibia.

The facilities on the Namibian side were much less sophisticated with the two immigration officers watched over by a large smiling portrait of the president. Somehow, I could not help but think he looked more like a friendly Uncle Remus than the President of Namibia.

Namibia is a huge country with a scant population of only 2 million people. This means that you can drive for long periods of time without sighting either another vehicle (or even another person). Namibia was formally known as South West Africa and was controlled as a de facto fifth province of South Africa. It was not until 1990 that it gained independence, although South Africa retained control of Walvis Bay and its important harbour facilities for a further four years.

The most dominant geographical feature of the country is the mighty Namib Desert and this is of course what gives the country its name. Although it looks at first to be a desolate and inhospitable place, a closer examination shows that it actually teeming with a wide diversity of animal and plant life that has adapted brilliantly to living in this environment.

Not long after crossing the border we stopped for morning tea at a quiet township with the evocative name of Bethanie. This is one of the oldest settlements in Namibia and was the site of the first missionary activity in 1814 by the Rev Heinrich Schmelen. Although Schmelen became disillusioned and left in 1822 there are still several very large churches in the town that bear testimony to the ardent fervour of the early missionary pioneers.

I stood in the middle of the wide main street and looked in both directions. There was certainly no danger of being run down by the traffic – there wasn’t any. In fact the whole town looked like everyone had just packed up and left. Since the coffee shops of Cape Town were now fading into distant memory we were all feeling like we would sell our souls for a single cupful of caffeine. The only problem was it did not look like we would find a coffee shop in this ghost town.

After wondering for a short distance I stopped in front of what looked like a hotel.
The front edifice was completely uninspiring, but I decided to poke my head in the door and see if there was anyone home. I was greeted by a smiling lady who invited me to come inside out of the sun. I followed her through a couple of large dark rooms and to a beautiful open courtyard area. Equipped with may tables and chairs and decorated with collections of cacti and other plants it was a fantastic discover. It was a complete surprise that such a wonderful oasis would be hiding behind such a drab exterior. To me it is these unexpected turns of events that I call the “serendipity of travel”.

I returned to the street and called in the rest of the group. We then spent a wonderful 30 minutes or so drinking coffee and chuckling over how unexpected it was to find such a delightful spot.

Late that afternoon we arrived at the famous Fish River Canyon. At 100 km long and up to 27 km wide it is claimed to be the second largest canyon in the world. Its depth is quoted as 550 metres (not quite as deep as the 4000 metres of Colca Canyon in Peru). Down in the base of the canyon we could see the diminutive Fish River which had been responsible for gouging out the great hole. We walked along the rim of the canyon for a couple of kilometres before gathering to watch the ball of the sun drop below the western rim of the canyon.

Because it was Easter and the therefore the time of the full moon, as soon as the sun disappeared in the west, the full moon rose behind us on the eastern horizon. Gazing at the huge disc of the moon I was reminded yet again of our theme “Under African Skies”.

Our campsite for the night was the Canyon Roadhouse. This turned out to be one of the best campsites of the entire trip. The roadhouse itself had a magnificent collection of old cars, machines, signs and assorted other memorabilia. The ablutions block and toilets were first class. In the middle of the night the moon shone so bright and clear that there was no need of torches to find your way about.Read more