Jilly's Namibia Trip 2007

From Great North Road

TRANS KALAHARI HIGHWAY - THE THIRD TRIP

Recent shipwreck on the Skeleton Coast, Namibia.	This is where brad and Angelina hung out for the birth of their baby in Long Beach between Swakopmund and Walvis bay, Namibia.	Street scene in Swakopmund - yes, I did take this myself!	Swakopmund beach - icy Atlantic - brave swimmers!
Old harpoon gun, Swakopmund.	On the road again - shortcut thru the Namib Desert.	Brenda and welwitschia plant in the Namib.	Namib Naukluft Park.
Leaving Gobabis, Namibia near Botswana border.	Basil Brush - tame Bat eared fox at Thakadu Bush Camp, Ghanzi, Botswana.	Springbok Namib.

I blame my affliction on my father. He first took me on an overland trip in 1955 when I was two - from Nairobi to Cape Town and back in a Ford Prefect. Ever since I could self-drive, I have been addicted to travelling through Africa, usually on my own (or with a son or two, or a long-suffering friend dragged along) as my husband, Otto does not share my compulsion. Otto flew in to the Livingstone Lark – I drove up…

I was always quite intrigued with the idea of being able to transect Southern Africa East to West as soon as the Trans Kalahari Highway was completely tarred about six years ago. The highway runs from Lobatse in Botswana to Walvis Bay in Namibia, cutting off about 400kms from the previous shortest route. As to taking the route, as usual, one just needs a good excuse!

In 2005, Otto flew to Walvis Bay as he had done for several years to test the ropes in situ at the Namport Syncrolift. Otto uses electromagnetic equipment to do this. When he returned, the authorities at Walvis Bay Airport decided not to load his equipment as they deemed it dangerous, but did not tell Otto who proceeded to Joburg unaware that his equipment was still in Walvis Bay. Thus I found my excuse to drive 2000kms to collect the equipment and drive back again. We managed this feat in four days! Tristan, my youngest son, accompanied me and did most of the driving in Otto’s Renault Megane. 2006 saw Otto and I doing the same trip – this time with me being able to “holiday” in Walvis Bay for two days whilst Otto worked, and we drove back with one stopover on the way back.

This year, Otto decided it was too tiring driving down, doing the job and driving back – so I volunteered to transport the equipment and a friend of mine, Brenda (formerly of Malawi) bravely offered to keep me company. Brenda is quite a lot older than me and just successfully conquered cancer, so this was a big challenge for her. I had to do the driving for the entire trip – be afred, be very afred!

We left my house at dawn on the 21st February and headed towards the Botswana border just 80 kms from the South African town of Zeerust. The border post is called Skilpadshek which means “Tortoise Gate”, and we were through and on our way by 9am. Destination - Ghanzi – on the edge of the Central Kalahari Game Reserve. The first day would see us drive an uneventful 900kms to Thakadu Bush Lodge, the only place I booked during the entire journey. We got there at 5pm and were astonished to find that the owners were ex-Zambians, Chris and Jeanette Woolcott. Chris was born In Kalalushi and Jeanette’s mum still runs a very successful guest house in Chingola. They had a book in their pub – a dictionary written in 1951 by SE Aitken-Cade published by the Edinburgh Press Ltd and sponsored by Gordon’s Gin – translating English into Chilalalapa, which I copied have now in my possession. It is worth a whole chapter in The Boma! Hilarious – last entry “ZEBRA”, n. – mbizi, duba (Chilalalapa – “donkey ga lo football jersey.” He! He! Or maybe I should say, “Haw! Haw!”

Next morning we took a quick look around Ghanzi town, which largely caters to the mainly white farmers in the area who farm beef and game. There are big general trading stores as well as clothing-cum-appliances shops – all owned by Chinese people – something that I am noticing more and more throughout my travels in Africa. Gone is the Indian-owned shop that sells everything – and in its stead is the Chinese shop that sells everything! Brenda bought a pair of sandals here after hers were demolished by stepping on a vicious camel thorn the previous day. The temperature here at 8am was 38 degrees Celsius!

On through to Mamuno border post. The Namibian side is just called “Buitepos”, which means border post.

More good, straight, tarred road, and we headed for a leisurely stopover just outside Windhoek. In Namibia, the official language is English, but you would never guess this. In the main towns the most often used language is either German or Afrikaans, hardly any white people can speak good English, but the black Namibians do speak English well. We found a B&B called Immanuel Bush Lodge which was owned by seriously Christian Germans who fed us with some of the best food I have eaten in Namibia. As I tried to sleep to the loud rumble of heavy vehicles coming down the nearby hill, I wondered why it was called a bush lodge? I suppose the foreign tourists don’t notice.

Then it was back on the road to Walvis Bay to meet Otto at 2.30pm at the airport. We got there early and got digs for our stay and then headed out into the desert to collect Otto.

Walvis Bay was first visited by Portuguese seafarers who came into the bay to trade with the local inhabitants. The Portuguese called it “Bahia des Baleas”, - Bay of the Whales. The Dutch mariners later renamed it “Walvisbaai”, which the English found too difficult and called the place Woolwich Bay. I find this quite ironic as I born in Woolwich, London, so maybe that is why the place keeps pulling me back?

Walvis Bay is very smelly – there are many fish factories there – the town exists to service the shipping and fishing industries. But in this little town you can also find the tastiest oysters in the world – promise – so I popped into the fish shop and bought a dozen each at R4.50 an oyster! I also bought some fresh kingklip for supper! Yummy!

Next day we visited Otto at the docks. Namport’s pride and joy, the Syncrolift is used to haul boats out of the water for inspections and repairs. This is done by lowering the platform into the deep water harbour and pulling the ship up and onto what looks like railway lines that lead to dry berths. (as you have probably guessed by now, I am not very technical). The photos show two fishing boats – one, hi-tech fibreglass and the other over 50 years old and built from timber. Both boats were built in Cape Town.

Leaving Otto to his work, Brenda and I went to look at the dunes and then decided to meander along the coast to see where the Joli/Pitt baby was born. The Burning Shore – doesn’t look like much does it? Long Beach is situated on the beach halfway between Walvis Bay and Swakopmund and has huge mansions just built on the biggest beach in the world – before you the icy, icy Atlantic, behind you an endless “beach” of sand dunes into the Namib Desert. This is a popular place for quad biking and 4X4’s where they drive over these enormous sand dunes. I did it last year in a Landy – great fun!

Swakopmund was opened up as a holiday spot by German colonists in 1892 and it is still Namibia’s premier tourist resort on the west coast. This town has grown considerably since I last visited it in 1987, but the German Architecture is still in evidence and well looked after – you will keep this town clean – Ja! Almost all the tourists are from Germany and all the signs are in German, so us Poms felt a bit like outcasts strolling through the quiet Saturday afternoon streets. We managed to find a lovely German deli where we bought fresh pastries for the morning’s breakfast.

Back to Walvis Bay and we had dinner with Otto at a fabulous seafood restaurant standing on stilts in Pelican Bay, called The Raft. And then it was time to repack the car to start off again next day.

We had to wait for Otto to finish the work on the Syncrolift and get him to the airport before setting off back home. This meant that we left Walvis Bay at 3pm and we decided to take the “shortcut” through the Namib Naukluft Park to Windhoek. This was a hard gravel road, 40 kms shorter than the tarred route. Here we hoped to find some wildlife and the moon landscape indicated on the map. We never saw the moonscape, but we saw many animals, including springbok and a huge flock (if you can call it that) of over 100 ostriches of all ages running madly across the desert. I was unable to photograph this due to the hectic wind.

We bombed along at 100kms an hour – sort of skimming along over the sand and then we got to a junction. There was a big warning sign on our intended route – “STOP! VERY STEEP INCLINES AHEAD, NO TRUCKS, TRAILERS OR CARAVANS!” At this junction there was an escape route via Karibib – back on to the Trans Kalahari Highway. Okay, so Brenda and I looked at each other and decided to give it a try. My car is not a four wheel drive, and if I had been in my Landy I would have been much more confident….but what is an adventure without any challenges?

The road soon started climbing up and over short, steep inclines and we were just beginning to think that this was a doddle – when we saw it! An extremely sheer road running around the side of a humungous mountain – the Stuckenberg was about to be summitted by two old ladies in a Ford Ranger – because it was there! The loose stones, boulders and dust made this quite a fearsome task, but some kind engineer had thought to pave the very worst 100 metre stretch with bricks – after that you were on your own. Luckily I have many years experience of overland driving, so I took a deep breath, geared down and gunned the Ford up the mountainside. Eventually after some nail-biting moments we finally lurched to the top – where I stopped for a nerve-settling Klippies and Coke (on the rocks) and to admire the view which was astoundingly beautiful and well worth the risk of trying the ascent. This really was the highlight of the trip, and a place I shall visit next time.

These mountains were full to the brim with kudu and steenbok and other game. I bet there are many leopards residing here too. The rest of the journey was all easy down to the foothills where we stayed over at the Daan Viljoen Game Park in a cute little rondavel on the banks of a beautiful dam filled with birds.

Next day we decided to try and get as far as Kang in the centre of Botswana. There was a heat wave going on, so temperatures were sky high. We drove through Windhoek and carried on driving fast through Gobabis to the border where we had lunch at a stopover on the Namibian side called East Gate. In Namibia, Rand is legal tender as the Namibian Dollar and the Rand are worth the same. Having been using Rand in Namibia, we forgot to get some more Pula for the Botswana side, but we were not too worried as there was an ATM in Kang.

It was now dreadfully hot and still another 350 kms to our destination. Botswana is flat, featureless and HOT! The only things that help keep a driver going are the fast, easy roads, keeping a look out for donkeys, goats and cattle and watching the amazing amount of raptors that hover along the roadsides. Botswana is Road Kill Country! That means for the twitchers amongst us, like me, the Trans Kalahari is well worth visiting!

Yellow-billed kites, tawny eagles, bateleur eagles amongst others, all fly along the route awaiting their free meals. Beautiful lilac-breasted rollers and cunning pied crows take out the smaller samplings. And when you see clouds of vultures circling, then you know you have come across a big one – a cow or a donkey. Stop and wait a while and you will see bat eared fox and jackal – and sometimes even a feral dog or two. But the best is watching the white-backed vultures and the magnificently haughty lappet-faced vulture – strutting around red-faced as if fuming at the other scavenger’s impudence at trying to dine at his table.

Unfortunately for the domestic animals, this route is lined with road kill, but I think the advent of this road must have created a new niche for scavenging birds and other creatures. This is not a route to attempt after nightfall. Sadly, I took this photo of a black-backed jackal that had been scavenging on a donkey carcase. Its mate trotted forlornly up and down on the side of the road, all thoughts of dining on donkey completely forgotten.

We arrived at Kang as darkness descended and got two air-conditioned rooms (with satellite TV) in a guest house in the village – bliss. Unfortunately, the ATM wasn’t working, so we couldn’t pay for them! After some negotiations with the owners, they gave us supper and the rooms after they had given me their banking details for their bank in South Africa and we retired for the night. Where in the Western World would you find this kind of trust? Brenda was in a downstairs room and I was upstairs. My room was steaming hot – it must have been about 45 degrees by now (and hotter in the room) and I reached eagerly for the air-conditioner, but I couldn’t figure out how to turn it on. Being as we had not yet paid, I did not want to contact management, so I hauled my bed outside onto the deck where it was cooler and passed out – after some help from a bottle of klippies! It did help a bit with blocking out the braying donkeys and the buzzing mozzies.

Next morning Brenda came up – all fresh and cool and well rested and asked how my night had been. I told her of my difficulties with the aircon, and she breezily told me that hers had a remote control. Remote control? Since when did air conditioners come with remote control?? I looked under a magazine at the side of my bed – and there it was - next time I will be more savvy. This is one of the hazards of being a committed bush camper; one is unaware of the advances of modern society. …

Next morning, 27th February, it was a 600 km run for home. There is nowhere after Kang to stop for breakfast – just a scattering of villages here and there, so we had lunch at the Spur in Zeerust and got home at 4pm. Trip over – when can I do it again?

Contributed by Jill Aplin.