The one with the oysters</strong>

5 February 2020 (day 64)

It’s another early start today for a day of game driving through Etosha in the truck en route to our next campsite in the park. Sara slept pretty well in the tent but it’s an even earlier morning for us than the rest of the group as I now have to pack two people’s stuff and two tents away before breakfast, and worse because I’m also on cooking duty today and therefore have to be done half an hour before breakfast time itself. I underestimate just how long this will take and as a result don’t have either tent down despite being late for cooking. Nash takes pity on me and offers to take down both tents so that I can go to help make breakfast. Nash, for the avoidance of any doubt, is awesome.

Today Nash is in the back of the truck with us as our safari guide, and when we spot more of the fancypants new zebras from yesterday, he tells us they’re called Burchell’s zebras and that their defining features are: (i) the shadow stripes we spotted ourselves and (ii) their stripes don’t extend all the way down their legs.

We see more black faced impala and then a hyena. Nash tells us that females run hyena packs (as they should across all species, in my view), their loping gait is caused by their strong shoulders which help them to carry prey long distances, and their jaws are second only to crocodiles in terms of power in the animal queendom.

Spotted hyena, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Next up are some springbok (this is when Nash corrects us that they’re not Thompson’s gazelle) and I see one of them doing its fun run-leap thing Nash tells me is called “pronking”. Pronking should of course not be confused with king-prawn, which many know as a shellfish delicious in Asian food.

A couple of nights back at Roy’s Rest Camp, the lovely bedding in our room had some embroidered gemsbok (also known as oryx), and here today is where we see them in the flesh for the first time. They immediately become both Sara’s and my favourite antelope, with their distinctive markings and striking horns.

Dancing oryx (gemsbok), Etosha National Park, Namibia

We notch up more giraffes and plovers as well as some vultures before heading for a number of vehicles parked some distance up the road ahead. When we arrive we scour the right side of the truck and eventually find two cheetahs walking along the edge of the salt pan. Moving on, a little further down the pan, we find one wildebeest and another four cheetahs, realising the four are a mother and her three older cubs. The drama starts here!

The ultimate creepy vulture shot, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Momma cheetah and tussling cubs, Etosha National Park, Namibia

First is the mother cheetah and the wildebeest seeming to face off. One cheetah wouldn’t ordinarily try to take down a large animal like a wildebeest, but if she has three hungry cubs to feed and no other options, it’s not outside the realms of possibility. And so we see her seeming to circle around, and crouch low to avoid the gaze of the wildebeest. The wildebeest meanwhile is no fool and keeps constant watch over the cheetah, occasionally turning tail and running to increase the distance between the two, before recommencing its watch. The cubs fight playfully on the edge of the salt pan, oblivious to the stand off with the wildebeest.

Cheetah acting all casual pretending not to notice the wildebeest and wildebeest not falling for it, Etosha National Park, Namibia

It’s then that we notice the two male cheetahs from earlier making their way towards the four cheetahs we’re with now. Nash tells us that the two cheetahs are probably brothers, and there’s a good chance they’re going to try to kill the cubs as perceived threats and / or to gain access to the mother.

Brother cheetahs closing in, Etosha National Park, Namibia

The wildebeest seems to notice this too and relaxes, eventually turning its back and walking away from the cheetah mother whose attention is now on the approaching brothers.

The cubs meanwhile seem oblivious to the threat, and continue frolicking and playing behind a shrub a few metres off land on the salt pan. The mother eventually seems to get the attention of one of them, which then tries to cross the open expanse between the shrub and its mother, but when neither of its siblings join it, it turns and retreats back to the shrub.

With the two brothers now virtually on top of the shrub and the mother a reasonable distance away, we wait with a sense of impending horror for what might unfold before us. The brothers walk up to the shrub and then past it, making no attempts on the cubs. They’re interested in the mother first then.

She arrives to protect her cubs, and with snarls and starts, she and the brothers face off, the cubs now keeping close to the mother.

Momma and cubs surrounded by the brothers, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Then for no obvious reason, the snarling stops and the mother walks off a short distance with one of the brothers, the other left with the cubs, before she and the first brother return. It’s not at all clear what’s just happened and, although we’re relieved not to have witnessed cubicide of an endangered species, it’s a little anticlimactic after nearly 40 minutes of watching.

When we finally leave, there are still teeth bared and clear tensions. Nash says he’s never seen anything like it before despite 5 years of being a tour leader for Absolute and part of many, many game drives.

A short distance later, Sara suddenly gives a shout. “LION! LION! LION!” she yells while miming pushing the button to get Steve to stop the truck, words otherwise failing her Jen-style (and broken leg preventing her from pushing the ceiling button herself). As I jump up to push the button, I see the lion just outside the tree line, impressive orange mane crowning his head. He stands there for a few moments more but we see him turn to leave and by the time the truck has reversed back, the lion, apparently camera shy, has disappeared.

The only pic we managed to get of the lion in Etosha National Park, Namibia

We continue on, spotting ostriches and more black backed jackals, until we reach the Etosha Pan, a huge expense of salt / white(ish) minerals, the largest of its kind in Africa and apparently visible from space. We vacate the truck to explore the pan and the first few to step more than a couple feet off the road quickly learn that the pan is actually thick and claylike rather than solid thanks to the recent rains.

Ostrich herd, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Giant horror chicken, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Black backed jackal, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Silverback on the salt pan, Etosha National Park, Namibia

A few hasty retreats later, we sensibly decide to stick to the road, until Rich, TV director that he is, decides he wants to recreate a photo of people spelling out Namibia on the pan. Back onto the pan we go, fortunately after finding some slightly more solid ground, and with some expert direction from Rich, we manage to pull off a version of the word for a photo.

Hopalong totally smashing the second “I”, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Because we can’t just take a normal picture, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Flexin’ on the salt pan, Etosha National Park, Namibia

A short while later, we pull into a campsite called Halali for some lunch. Sara and I decide to eat at the restaurant there but are underwhelmed by the menu and even less whelmed by the pretty depressing Viennese and Russian hot dogs that arrive for us.

Now remembering that this is the middle of a hot day in Namibia, one wouldn’t expect there to be any moths around, and yet dozens (probably) of the evil fluttering things choose to descend on the restaurant as we’re eating our soulless hot dogs. Worse still, they take a liking (or hating) to me, and moth after moth attack me and my food. Over and over again I jump to my feet cursing and batting in mild panic, but the moths are unconcerned and continue relentlessly. It’s genuinely awful and I eventually abandon my food, not that I’m overly sad about that in view of it not tasting good, after a large moth lands on my part-eaten hot dog.

Then comes the evil mothy cherry on the dreadful mothy cake: as I’m accompanying Sara to the ladies’, we see above us on the ceiling a moth easily the size of my hand if not larger. I shudder and resolve never to return to northern Namibia, delightful though it otherwise is.

Hopefully there are no moths larger than this one in the world, Etosha National Park, Namibia

After lunch it’s back into the truck to continue with our game drive, and after a period Steve slows the truck and stops. We peer out to see what animal he’s seen but it’s no animal: instead it’s a flooded section of the road ahead. “Ah he doesn’t like the look of that,” says Nash, but a moment later Steve clearly decides he can do it and we move forward. Bad move: we get about halfway into the puddle and the truck jolts to a stop. Steve tries to move forward and backward but the truck doesn’t give an inch. After multiple attempts, a shout goes up that we all have to get off the truck (except Sara, of course).

Those of us on the truck back in Kenya have an immediate flashback to being stuck in the mud in the burning heat for nearly four hours. That time, however, we weren’t in a game park with lions and leopards and jackals, and it’s illegal to be out of your vehicle here unless it’s an emergency for exactly that reason. We’re accordingly instructed not to venture away from the truck, and certainly not alone. We also know from last time that there’s likely to be a prolonged period of digging and pushing and getting very muddy coming our way.

Jan is first to the fore, tearing off his flip flops and bounding into the mud like an excited little boy. Others follow, including me, and the mud is so slippy underfoot I feel certain I or someone else is going to fall into the muddy water as soon as we start pushing the truck.

Jan playing in the mud, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Much more quickly than I anticipate, the truck is sufficiently dug out for a first attempt at pushing it backward out of the mud. I’m not even there yet, still picking my way through the mud carefully along with some of the others, and Jan, Hamish, Sam, Mike and Nash are alone in heaving into the front of the truck. There’s some movement, they push harder, and then all of a sudden the truck is free and reversing back quickly along clear ground.

We’re stuck for maybe 15 minutes total and it’s a bit of a mental readjustment back from the expectation of four hours graft to already resolved. Back through the mud we go, having contributed nothing other than willingness to help but gaining muddy feet nonetheless.

Sara high and dry while the rest of the group trudge back to the newly freed truck, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Hitting the road once more, I’m taken aback by the huge variety of landscapes and the drama of both the land and sky. At times, rain threatens with huge ominous storm clouds darkening the sky, but this is interspersed with the bluest blue and white candy floss clouds (or sky sheep as I like to call them). The land changes from salt flat to savannah to grassland filled with bushes and trees and back again. We see some areas filled with animals and birds and others seemingly devoid of life. The park is just incredible, and being here in the off season means we don’t see many other vehicles and are therefore left with a sense of almost having the place to ourselves.

A sampling of the gorgeous Etosha National Park landscape

Salt pan after the rain, Etosha National Park, Namibia

View from the truck, Etosha National Park, Namibia

How is this place even real?! Etosha National Park, Namibia

Arriving later at our campsite, we decide to upgrade and are lucky to get a room virtually right beside where the group is camping. Our room is really lovely and has a fully accessible shower, something neither of us thought we’d need during the trip!

Namibia Wildlife Resorts rooms don’t come cheap but they are niiiice!

At reception I also book us into tonight’s game drive. We’re the only two from our group interested in going so I’m hopeful of there being either spare seats in the back for Sara to fit her leg in comfortably or alternatively for her to be able to sit in the cab with the driver.

Dinner is a bit of a rush, and the Greek salad my cook group is making isn’t anywhere near ready in time for us to eat before the game drive, so I make myself and Sara each a plate to scoff down of the bits that are ready. We eat hastily and make our way slowly back to reception for the drive.

When we arrive, we find out that nobody else has booked onto the drive AT ALL. Private game drive for us then! It’s absolutely perfect and leaves Sara with a full row to be able to stretch out her leg and move about if needed for comfort or viewing purposes. I also have a full row, as do Sara’s crutches (we do like to spoil inanimate objects after all).

Oh hello there, private safari vehicle! Etosha National Park, Namibia

Look at all this space! Etosha National Park, Namibia

Our driver’s name is Coco and after he helps Sara into the car, he moderates our expectations by reminding us that animals are unpredictable and the park is huge so only if we’re very lucky will we see one of the Big 4 in the park (there are no buffalo in Etosha) particularly given that it’s rainy season and animals generally are unlikely to be found at the watering holes. The three of us, plus his colleague, head out. The sun is beginning to lower in the sky but we look on track to have perfect weather which is more than can be said for those on last night’s drive.

Within a couple of minutes of leaving the campsite, we’ve already seen some springbok and then come across four female giraffes on both sides of the road around us, one crossing from left to right just ahead. Coco tells us these are Angolan giraffes, the smallest of the giraffe family, and we sit and watch them eating in the beginnings of the sunset before moving on.

Angolan giraffes, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Sunset stroll, Etosha National Park, Namibia

A short distance down the road, not more than 10 minutes drive from camp, I yell “LION” and Coco pulls to a quick stop. And there she is, a lioness resting on the grass near the side of the road. Coco informs us that lions sleep for 20 hours a day. Normally lionesses are found in groups, and the only times one would be found alone is if she has cubs she’s trying to protect or if she’s about to give birth. If she has cubs, she’ll hide them away somewhere to keep them safe while she goes off to hunt.

We become very excited. Might there be cubs nearby and might we see them? We’ve seen plenty of baby animals over our time in Africa but not lion cubs, so this would be incredible.

We watch her lying upright for a while, straining our ears for the sounds of any cubs nearby but to no avail. And then the lioness rolls over revealing her distended stomach and it becomes abundantly clear that the cubs are still in her belly.

Mighty and soon to be motherly lioness, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Coco tells us then that the typical gestation period for lionesses is 110 days and that a first pregnancy usually yields only two cubs with further pregnancies then of up to five at a time. Cubs don’t open their eyes for 11 days after birth hence a mother needing to safely stash them away while she goes off to hunt.

I harbour a slight hope that perhaps she’ll give birth then and there, but after maybe 15 minutes of watching, nothing is happening and we take the decision to move on to try to find some other nocturnal animals. Leaving also means we escape the horror moths constantly attacking the roof of the car, as well as occasionally us, as we watch the lioness.

The sun has now pretty much set and darkness is beginning to close in, so Coco turns on the red light they use here to find but not blind the wildlife at night. We set off again and almost immediately see a baby black backed jackal alone at the road side.

Night game drive in Etosha National Park, Namibia

Baby jackal, Etosha National Park, Namibia

Continuing on, within a matter of minutes, Sara notices a white flash up ahead moving in the direction of the road from the left. Just as she’s dismissed it as simply light bouncing off of something, a black rhino crashes through the bushes and runs across the road in front of the car. We both absolutely burst with excitement, grabbing each other, pointing and repeating “Rhino! It’s a rhino!” at each other. Within moments the rhino is gone, disappearing into the bushes on the right hand side of the car. It’s incredible though, seeing a rhino out of the blue like this. We’ve seen one black rhino before back in the Maasai Mara, as well as a number of white rhino in Ziwa, Lake Nakuru, Ngorogoro Crater, and Matopos, but this is the first time we’ve seen a rhino when not specifically looking for one and having radios and tips from other guides to direct us towards one already spotted.

Adrenaline rush achieved for the night, as well as two of the Big 4 within 40 minutes of the drive starting, we continue further into the park. Despite night now being fully upon us, it’s surprisingly light. The full moon is approaching and we’re blessed with a bright clear night and excellent visibility. The regular lightning strikes in the distance remind us of our very good weather fortune.

Over the course of the drive, we see scrub hares, around 10 blue wildebeest grouped together, a herd of zebra (Coco tells us that when they travel to watering holes, male zebra will put themselves at the front and back of the group to protect the females and young in the middle, and that the lead zebra will go to check the watering hole for safety before allowing the group to follow), more jackals and springbok, and birds that occasionally fly up out of the road right in front of the car, succeeding in scaring Sara in the process.

We drive to multiple popular watering holes but are just as unsuccessful as during the day. Coco tells us that during dry season these watering holes would be full of animals at this time but, as we’d been told earlier, the rains have left temporary pools all over the park and the animals therefore don’t need the regular haunts at the moment.

After over three hours of driving, we’re back at camp, exhilarated by our rhino and lioness as well as having had a private tour of the park at night.

Back in our room, we’re both interested in seeing this campsite’s floodlit watering hole but after last night’s difficult journey for Sara and its lack of viewings, we decide I should go alone to see if it’s worth her making the trip. It’s getting on for 11pm as I make the fairly short walk from our room to the watering hole, and when I arrive, although there’s no wildlife, I do find Jan and Melissa deep in conversation. They’ve been there for a few hours now with no sightings to speak of, so I’m glad Sara didn’t cart herself all the way over. They decide to head back and the three of us walk together to the campsite before heading to bed after a memorable day.

6 February 2020 (day 64)

It’s everyone’s favourite day again: Nashcakes day! Noms galore.

Back on the road, we’re surprised by how quickly we leave Etosha and how close to the park boundaries we were when we saw last night’s lion and rhino.

At the park gate, the truck stops and Nash comes into the back to let us know there are some women from the Himba tribe by the gate selling hand crafts. The Himba are indigenous to Namibia, and a few of us have been keen to meet some of the women, who’re known for the red pigmented Otjize they wear on their bodies and hair to protect themselves from the sun and insect bites.

We head over and find three women and a few very small children selling bracelets and jewellery made from wood, grasses and seeds. Sara and I buy three bracelets between us, and the women consent to us taking photographs of them. The Otijze on their hair braids is beautiful but looks heavy and I can’t imagine it’d be comfortable (although appreciate they’re used to it and will have built up neck and back strength through wearing it).

Himba women selling beautiful bracelets outside the gates of Etosha National Park. Photo credit: @meli444violet

There’s also a Himba man selling carvings of local birds strung together into a ceiling hanging. Olly and Melissa buy one and we debate it but eventually don’t (and Sara later regrets the decision).

Bird cravings outside the gates of Etosha National Park, Namibia

Back in the truck and onwards through the remote Namibian landscape, and as it changes from the park we’re struck by just how much it begins to look like Northern Arizona where Sara is from. Add some saguaro cacti and swap the acacia trees for mesquite and you could convince any Arizona native that they’re home. It’s completely unexpected and makes Sara miss home.

Is that Sedona, Arizona out the window? Nope, it’s Namibia.

We stop at Outjo for some shopping and find the best bakery in the entire world. The oryx and kudu pies we buy to eat for lunch are absolutely delicious (those antelope species both look and taste great!), as are the baked items, and the coffee… don’t get me started on that coffee. I whatsapp Nash in the front of the truck to ask if we can detour back here every day to get more coffee. He texts back saying he’d love to but it’s slightly impractical as we travel farther and farther away. Bad news indeed.

Onwards and we arrive at Okonjima Nature Reserve, home of the AfriCat Foundation, in time for lunch (oryx and kudu pie time!). AfriCat was set up in 1991 to conserve Namibia’s large cats and it provides a home for orphaned cubs as well as adult cats (typically cheetahs and leopards) being kept as pets or in inhumane conditions, taking care of those too ill to be set free. The end goal is to rehabilitate and re-release as many animals as possible back into the wild.

The excellent gates to Okonjima Nature Reserve / AfriCat, Namibia

We’re staying on the reserve tonight and our campsite is a beautifully designed bush camp amongst the red rocks, orange sands and bush covered peaks. We set up the tents and have lunch (did i mention the pies?) before the safari vehicles arrive to take us down to AfriCat to see if we can spot some of the cheetahs and to hear more about the conservation work they’re doing.

Pathway to the bush loo with a view, Plains Camp, Okonjima Nature Reserve, Namibia

Driving through the reserve on the way there, we see some oryx (sorry we ate your relatives earlier, chaps!), damara dikdiks (which are adorably tiny, weigh only 5.5kg, and mate for life), steenbok, giraffes, and sable antelope (only found in game reserves these days).

The beautiful (and delicious) oryx, Okonjima Nature Reserve

Teeny tiny damara dikdik, Okonjima Nature Reserve

Yet another beautiful giraffe, Okonjima Nature Reserve

On arrival at AfriCat, we’re first taken to the information centre to learn about the conservation efforts, threats to cheetahs, and drive to educate local children in particular to prevent future human threats on large cat populations. It’s then on to see if we can find some cheetah.

AfriCat information centre - conservation through education

Nash seeing how he measures up to a lioness

Newest members of the AfriCat family: WhatCat and GrrrRiley - these two are going to need some taming

It turns out however that the predators don’t roam freely around the reserve as I would have expected. Instead they’re kept apart from the “prey” animals in fenced enclosures of 14 hectares and because they can’t hunt (due to space restrictions and Namibian conservation laws) they’re brought food to eat six times a week. We therefore enter the enclosures in the 4x4s and drive around the first one until we find its two resident cheetah siblings named Peanut and Raisin, and then a second enclosure with four full siblings and one adopted brother (another orphan arriving at the sanctuary at the same time as the four) called Savannah, Sim, Scamp, Nip and Tuck.

We spend some time hanging out with the cheetahs and while it’s exciting to be up so close to them, it’s also a bit like being in a much nicer zoo and we far prefer seeing them in the wild as we did yesterday. It’s also pretty sad that they’re not able to live their full natural cheetah lives, but at the same time these are cheetahs that weren’t capable of being reintroduced to the wild so on balance it’s a good thing for them to be here as a teaching tool for local youngsters.

Next we’re taken to a leopard retreat to see a leopard called Laywa up close. Laywa is at the retreat for feeding time because she, like the cheetahs, isn’t allowed to hunt. The staff have rigged up a pulley mechanism inside a hollowed out tree to deliver meat to the leopards a very short distance from a sheltered viewing area, and we have front row seats to feeding time (note: technically everyone does as there’s one row of seats).

Like with the cheetahs, it’s cool to be so close to the leopard and to see feeding time, but it’s nowhere near as special as encountering big cats in the wild, sometimes just as close as they are here.

Once Laywa is finished eating, she saunters off to a presumably shadier part of her enclosure far out of our sight and our time in AfriCat is complete.

Back at camp, as dinner is being made we and Jim discuss silly / funny / random YouTube videos and Sara remembers Earth, the Little Dicky song with a surprising number of A-list pop stars in it. I have it downloaded on my phone with the video (thanks to my brother Matt for introducing us to it!) and first Jim and then others in turn crack up at the enjoyably silly lyric.

After dinner, Sara, Jan, Nahiko, Olly, Mike, Luke and I stay up for a while chatting by the campfire underneath the stars. It’s nearly full moon which is annoying because tonight and tomorrow are the two best opportunities for seeing the African sky in all its glory from remote settings, and now the stupid moon will be all bright and lovely and obscure many of the otherwise visible night stars. Worst moon ever.

7 February 2020 (day 66)

We leave AfriCat and the Okonjima Nature Reserve this morning, seeing some dikdik and kudu on the way out through the reserve. It’s a 300km drive to Spitzkoppe, and we make a couple of stops en route, one where a stall is selling some tasty looking biltong I buy us to go with lunch.

As we near Spitzkoppe, we start to see the outline of some huge rock formations on the horizon. The orange colours become apparent the closer we get to them, and the truck eventually pulls up at a bush campsite with impressive views over the rocks and desert.

Desert rocks in all their glory, Spitzkoppe, Namibia

Desert bush camp, sweet desert bush camp, Spitzkoppe, Namibia

The views here rock! Spitzkoppe, Namibia

I set up our two tents with the help of Nash and Melissa and regret not leaving it until later given the pretty extreme heat of the middle of the afternoon.

Our tents…pretty sure those round rocks behind won’t roll on top of us, Spitzkoppe, Namibia

Most of the group go off in different directions to explore and climb various peaks, but with Sara’s injuries we instead enjoy the views from the campsite while sheltering from the heat inside the truck and catching up on the blog.

When it gets to early evening, Jan, Olly and Nahiko tell me they’re going to climb one of the formations to watch the sunset and invite me to join them. I decide to go along but want to get Sara set up comfortably out of the truck before leaving so she can also watch the sunset. I tell the boys to go and I’ll catch up shortly.

Around 10 minutes later I’m ready to go. Sara tells me to be careful and not to injure myself, and I agree to do my best before heading off for the rock the boys are climbing. The problem though is I’ve no idea of the route up. I start to head up what seems to be the most obvious route but quickly find a nearly vertical wall ahead of me. As I step back to try to figure out where they went, I see a couple of figures maybe 100m or so above me at the top of the rock. It’s Ryan and Taylor and they shout down that the path up is right around the other side.

I climb back down and walk all the way around but still can’t find any sensible looking route up the rock. And then I see what looks to be a channel presumably wrought from many pairs of feet ascending and descending over the years. “Got it,” I think to myself, and start clambering up. The channel, however, quickly becomes steep and slippy, and I’m probably no more than 10m up when I realise continuing upwards is a terrible idea if I’m to do as Sara requested and not fall and injure myself.

I tentatively slip and slide back down to the ground and give up on the idea of climbing the rock. If the boys went that way, I’m impressed, but I’ll just watch the sunset from a much smaller rock behind the truck thank you very much. I head that way and climb up to its slight vantage point for the sunset.

As I stand there, I hear my name being called from a distance and see Jan waving to me from the top of the big rock. I shout that the path was too slippy, but he gestures for me to come over and yells that he’ll show me how to get up safely. I’m sceptical but go over. If it’s the same route as before, I’m going back to my private not-very-high rock again.

Jan has come partway down and points and shouts instructions to me from above. The route they took it transpires is not the one I tried and is much more achievable. A short period of huffing and puffing later and I arrive at the top, with cracking views now over Spitzkoppe and the slowly setting sun.

Look at those colours! Spitzkoppe, Namibia

I repeat, look at those colours! Spitzkoppe, Namibia

As the sun goes down over the horizon, the sky glows with oranges and yellows while shadow falls over the huge rocks in front of us. I turn and see the darkening sky behind now holds the full moon in a cloudless sky (so will again ruin stargazing plans).

The beautiful moon (aka Ruiner of Star Views), Spitzkoppe, Namibia

Jen’s first view of the Spitzkoppe sunset from the small rock (the above two videos show Sara’s view from ground level).

One last time, look at those colours! Jen’s second view of the sunset after figuring out how to get up the rock, Spitzkoppe, Namibia

Although the sunset colours will be at their best around 20 minutes after the sun disappears, we agree not to stay at the top of the rock for it as it would then mean a pretty perilous descent in the dark without head torches. As is typical, going down is harder and scarier than coming up. Sara’s words ring in my ears and I mutter to myself “I must not injure myself! I must not injure myself!” as I adopt what I will call the “crab” position for the descent, which, to clarify, means on hands and feet with belly upwards.

Safely back on the ground and feeling very pleased with myself for getting there injury free (albeit with slightly rock burned hands), we get back to camp just in time to see the end of the sunset as we eat dinner.

Dinner time in the desert - be sure to note the classy chick chugging wine from the bottle, Spitzkoppe, Namibia

After food, most people go to bed pretty early, while Sara and I sit up chatting for a while by the campfire again with a few of the others. When we eventually do head for bed, on the way to the loo Sara points out a dead lizard belly up on the ground. It’s totally silver and looks as though it’s wearing a spacesuit, so I start to sing a lyrically modified version of Babylon Zoo’s 1996 hit Spaceman. “Spacelizard, I always wanted you to go into space, lizard. Intergalactic reptile,” I sing to the lizard. I’m pretty pleased with my silly joke and look up to see Sara smiling. My revised lyric has gone down well then, I think. But as we start on toward the loo again, Sara says “I’m sure there was a reference there but I didn’t get it.” She’s never ever heard the song before (I play it for her the next day to a blank face) and had simply enjoyed / indulged me bouncing away in the dark singing silly words to a dead lizard. Brilliant.

Sitting around the campfire under the nearly full moon in Spitzkoppe, Namibia. Alas, we don’t have a photo of the spacelizard.

8 February 2020 (day 67)

Once again it’s tents down in the dark to get on the road at a good time. The sun rises behind the truck as we eat breakfast and chases the darkness from the biggest rocks ahead of us, returning them to colour again.

Dames in the desert. Photo credit: @meli444violet

The first drive this morning is to Cape Cross Seal Colony on the Skeleton Coast. As we pull up by the colony, we detect two smells in particular. One is the saltiness of the ocean; the other is the much stronger and infinitely less pleasant odour of the seals. The seals spend all of their time in the same area of land or in the Atlantic, and that means they urinate, deficate, give birth and die all in the same place we are now. I don’t think I can articulate the smell well enough to try but suffice it to say there’s nothing else like it and the smell sticks to our clothes, hair and the truck’s interior until all are properly cleaned.

We get out of the truck and take a wander down to see the seals from the wooden walkway constructed along part of the length of the reserve. There are a number of the seals up by the truck and along the way down towards the ocean, but as we approach the walkway we can see and hear more and more of them, including some on the walkway itself. The wooden gate intended to keep the seals out seems redundant in view of the many seals already there and various broken bits of fence that clearly allowed them access, but we close it behind us anyway as good tourists.

This is when the problem with the seals being on the walkway becomes apparent. Some of them don’t like humans being there and charge (by which I mean sealishly waddle-slide at pace) towards people to ward them off. Rich and Mike are pursued back towards the gate by some irate seals, and after some coercion Sara reluctantly agrees she should probably not be on the walkway due to her inability to move quickly in the event of being chased herself.

With Sara back on normal land with her crutches to protect herself in the event of being accosted by a seal, I tentatively head along the walkway, wary of finding myself trapped by some of the more thuggish ones. Seals are all around and under the walkway, and I give a start multiple times when one barks (a noise that sounds like a slow, deep evil laugh) below me.

Trust us, be grateful smell-o-vision was never invented!

A black backed jackal sauntering through the seal colony

From the walkway the sheer number of seals in and around the water becomes clear. At best guess there are multiple thousands, possibly tens of thousands, of adults and pups, some bobbing around in the waves, others clambering over each other on land and whacking each other with fins and heads.

A small section of the Cape Cross Seal Colony,Namibia

Back with Sara, we agree seals are basically a mix of dogs, cats, fish and sheep physically and in their sounds. Sara has fallen in love with the seals (despite their smell) and really wishes she could hug one.

It’s faces like this and poses like the above that make Sara fall completely in love with seals*Rachey - We’re pretty sure this is what Max would look like as a seal — It’s faces like this and poses like the above that make Sara fall completely in love with seals
*Rachey - We’re pretty sure this is what Max would look like as a seal

Back on the truck and onwards along the coast until we see a shipwreck and pull in to have a closer look. I get out of the truck (Sara decides against as walking in sand won’t work for her on crutches) and head across the beach to the shore to get a closer look at the wreck. I’m struck immediately by how exactly the coast here smells like where I grew up in a fishing village in Scotland. Back at the colony, it probably would have smelled the same were it not for the seals.

The wreck is now essentially a seabird sanctuary

No seals, just stunning scenery and salty sea smells

There’s also the skeleton of a seal laid out on the sand and it takes me a minute to realise it’s not a human (I’m probably not the brightest).

On the road again for the final time today and we arrive at Amanpuri in Swapokmund at lunchtime. Sara’s leg has become really swollen and turned a concerning shade of purple, and her ankle now hurts more than her fracture site, so we’ve decided it’s time to go for another check up at hospital to make sure everything is okay.

We check in, unload everything from the truck, and get a taxi with Ryan and Taylor (Taylor’s also been unwell) to the local Mediclinic. The hospital is modern, quiet, very clean, and has customer WiFi! Sara is taken through to be seen by a doctor who refers her for a new x-ray plus sonar to check what’s up in her leg. The x-ray shows a fractured fibula (as expected) while the sonar shows no blood clots (phew!). The doctor is however concerned about the potential for clots and prescribes blood thinners to reduce the risk. The doctor reconfirms that Sara is fine medically to continue travelling. “Can I drink alcohol with the blood thinners? I’m supposed to be going wine tasting next week in South Africa.” enquires Sara. “Just don’t fall over” says the doctor. Sara and I both laugh heartily at the joke. The doctor doesn’t crack even the slightest smile.

We’ve been at the hospital for quite a few hours at this point and are running late for the group dinner to mark Gen and Hamish leaving us here in Swapokmund. We get a taxi straight to Napolitana where the rest of the group is already seated. Sara, Nash and I decide to order a full rack of ribs, an oryx steak and a kudu steak between us and to share three ways. All three dishes when they come are delicious and I’m not sure which I prefer. Maybe the oryx. Yeah probably the oryx. Close call though.

As we eat, a local group come in and start performing traditional African songs along with one particularly recognisable Western song, and Sara and I beam throughout. We make a spontaneous decision to buy their CD at the end of their set, both to support the local band but also because they were just so enjoyable!

Following the meal, the group moves into the bar adjoining the restaurant and when Sara and I head through it turns out to be a karaoke bar. Well okay then! Much of the karaoke is fairly terrible, and I wait not-very-long before putting in my song choices. Fast forward 45 minutes and I grab both mics from the previous “singers” on hearing the opening bars of The Bloodhound Gang. Hamish reckons he knows it too so I give him one of the mics and we smash out The Bad Touch. At one of the last choruses, Nahiko takes Hamish’s mic and sings it in Spanish. Unexpected and brilliant.

The song finishes and the next starts. It’s still from my song choices and I blast out my best Superbass by Nikki Minaj. Finishing up, I hand the mic on to the next person and look to Sara; with a nod we agree it’s time to head back to the hostel. Karaoke in Africa - done!

9 February 2020 (day 68)

We’re woken around 5.30am by a very angry woman in the courtyard outside our room shouting loudly at a man who’s not shouting back. It continues for a while and, based on the words we can make out, we’re both left with the impression of this perhaps being an interaction relating to prostitution. Later in the day, we find out that’s exactly what it is, and that one of the male contingent of our group brought her back to the hostel without realising it would be a paid transaction, hence her fury after the fact when no payment is forthcoming!

Excitement over, today is otherwise a day when we mostly eat stuff. This morning I leave Sara uploading photos onto the blog on the slow WiFi while I go out to get her blood thinner medication from the nearest apothecary (not pharmacy, because apparently they don’t fill prescriptions in Namibia!).

My [Sara’s] view while blogging - I like to think that Sparkles (the small cat) is dreaming of being a cheetah (the big cat in the frame)

Early afternoon, we get a cab down to a restaurant called Jetty 1905. It’s right at the end of the pier and sits over the Atlantic, and while it’ll have great views, it’s also quite a long way for Sara to walk as well as pretty hazardous over the weather-beaten boardwalk.

On our way to Jetty 1905, Swapokmund, Namibia

For lunch we have some pretty excellent oysters (I bloomin’ love oysters!), a pleasant if slightly weird crab salad, and extremely indulgent and utterly delicious chocolatey desserts (Mississippi mud pie for Sara and chocolate fondant for me - we each think we’ve got the better option).

Oysters! Fresh Atlantic oysters for Jen and a taster trio of oysters (one tempura, one baked, and one grilled) for Sara

While I was out this morning, Sara found a few brochures for activities in and around Swapokmund that look doable for her with her fractured leg. We’d originally been planning to do the Big 3 here, sky diving, sand boarding, and quad biking, but with those out of contention, when we get back from lunch, I speak to reception about a potential dolphin cruise and desert tour combo for the next day. The price of the combo is ridiculous but by getting rid of the desert tour element it’s much more reasonable, so we book ourselves on for the dolphins first thing in the morning.

Not enough hours after lunch, it’s dinner time. We’d made plans with Nash to go for sushi, and although still pretty full of oysters, we head to Ocean Basket for tea. The last time the three of us went for sushi was in Zanzibar where there was no salmon and to our tastes the food was only okay at best. Here, salmon is back with a vengeance, and the sushi is fresh and delicious. We order too much, both in view of it being kinda close to lunchtime but I think also objectively, and the Monty Python “wafer thin” sketch comes to mind as we grind to a slow halt a little before finishing. After this much food and the shouty early wake up, we’ll sleep well tonight!

10 February 2020 (day 69)

We’re collected by the minibus from Ocean Adventures and pick up some more passengers from within Swapokmund before being driven past huge yellow sand dunes to Walvis Bay.

Only one wharf is in operation, so the many companies operating here have to take it in turns to dock, board their passengers, and leave to enable the next boat to do the same. We’re the last boat to go so have a pretty rubbish coffee from a local cafe while watching seals jumping out of the water onto the wharf, scooting up some stairs, and diving in again from the highest point beside the boarding passengers. Some of the seals also board the boats and get up close and personal with the passengers, and I’m slightly hesitant about that part given our experiences a couple of days ago of being aggressively chased.

Finally it’s our turn and Sara’s allowed to board first to make sure she gets the right spot to put her leg up. We choose the very front of the boat for a good view and because it’s conveniently built in such a way as Sara can easily elevate her leg with a few blankets beside the seat.

A nice safe comfy place to rest (or so we thought)

Mossie, the boat’s captain, gives us all an introductory speech and mentions that there’s a possibility of seeing one or more of the Marine Big 5. We haven’t heard of the Marine Big 5 before so get very excited and immediately resolve to collect them all. Mossie explains the Marine Big 5 are:

Seals (so tick!);
Dolphins, and in particular in this area we could potentially see either or both of the Atlantic Bottlenose, fairly common, and the Benguela, found only in the Benguela current which flows past all of the Namibian coast line as well as a small section of southern Angola and northern South Africa;
A fish called sunfish or mola mola in English and Afrikaans but moonfish in all other languages;
Leatherback sea turtles; and
Whales (normally seen June to October).

Our current Marine Big 5 count over the course of this trip then is 1 of 5 seen (dolphins, whales, sunfish, and leatherback sea turtles not yet viewed).

Mossie finishes up by saying “In nature nothing is guaranteed but anything is possible. Let’s go see what nature gives us.” We both like this a lot.

He calls everyone to the interior of the boat for a safety briefing (Sara gets a pass on account of her mobility issues). I’m confronted on the walk there by a seal right there on the back of the boat, and Mossie tells us that up to five different seals may join us on the boat over the course of today’s sailing but not to forget that these are wild animals. There is only one seal it would be safe for us to touch called Baby Boo, and since seals look pretty much the same to the untrained eye, we shouldn’t touch any without positive confirmation from a crew member that it’s safe to do so.

After the briefing, I go back to the front of the boat and brief Sara as we pull out of the marina. Moments later, a seal flip flops into view at the front of the boat and begins to get friendly with one of the other passengers, clambering over her and letting her touch it - Baby Boo has arrived. This is right beside me and Sara and it’s pretty exciting to be so close.

Mossie says we can do photographs with Baby Boo and I ask if the seal can be encouraged over the bow to Sara so she can have a photo with him without moving. No problem and the deckhand takes a bucket of fish to the other side of Sara onto the platform where her leg is resting. Baby Boo naturally follows but, not being human, doesn’t understand the relevance of Sara’s leg being elevated and in a moon boot and he climbs straight onto her broken leg in his pursuit of fishy goodness. I’m struck mute with horror at this heavy marine mammal on top of Sara’s leg, now at a slightly different angle than it was originally, and Sara’s face is writ large with surprise but fortunately not pain. The seal continues onwards, at one point with his full weight on her bad leg, and stops to rest on top of Sara’s lap giving her the opportunity for a bit of a wet hug, before moving past.

Immediately after extricating the broken leg from underneath Baby Boo - all smiles, no tears

A hug from a seal - dreams do come true!

Assured that Sara’s completely fine in spite of what’s just happened, and that her leg feels no worse for the unexpected load, it’s my turn for a photo and seal cuddle. Ever the pro, I don’t flinch even once as Baby Boo moves unexpectedly…

The seal leaves us soon after and no more join us on the boat for the duration of the trip, which is both a shame and a relief (I don’t have to worry about Sara’s poor leg again other than when she’s moving around the slippery ship). As Baby Boo slips away, a seagull lands on the boat. “Ah there’s Nigel,” says Mossie. “And there’s another Nigel,” he jokes as a second seagull lands nearby. Nigel (or Nigella) becomes the name of all seagulls we see over the remainder of our travels (probably; I write this on 6 March in New Zealand and we’re still doing it).

The first stop on the trip is the Walvis Bay oyster nurseries, and Mossie talks to us about how oysters, which are not native to Namibian waters, came to be farmed here. In short, the country originally imported baby oysters from Chile to be matured in the warm and mineral rich Benguela current, and they’d grow over two and a bit years into edible oysters. An enterprising local guy however came up with a means of expediting things by setting up breeding tanks to avoid having to import them, and then giving the very young oysters electric shocks to speed up their maturation. The result is Namibian oysters are ready for eating after only 8-9 months, much less than half the time of the completely natural timeline.

Of course, learning about Namibian oysters wouldn’t be complete without a tasting. The crew have been busy shucking and plenty of oysters are laid out for us to try. Mossie tells us that Walvis Bay oysters are considered by many leading oyster critics (such a thing exists? Sign me up immediately!) to be some of the best in the world, and that he recommends trying them au natural, or at most with some freshly ground pepper and lemon juice. To accompany the oysters, bottles of sparkling South African “champagne” circulate. Without going into too much detail, I am in HEAVEN with the oysters and fizz! Sara agrees they’re really darn good despite being a little less of an oyster fan than I am. I am going to need more of these oysters while we’re in Swapokmund!

Next stop on the cruise is at a cape fur seal colony on the coast where we again encounter thousands of the animals in the water and along the shoreline. It’s just like a couple of days ago only this time viewing from the water and with much better ability to see the seals frolicking and chasing each other in the waves. Apparently there are more seals along the coast of Namibia than there are humans inhabiting the country. Crazy.

More seals! And yes, we can smell them from the boat.

We move on and spend some time crossing the wide bay, now on the watch for dolphins. It takes a while but finally we spot one, and not one of the common bottlenose but instead a Benguela,“the special one” as Mossie calls it. The dolphin isn’t the type interested in playing with the boat or in its wake, and we follow at a distance as it surfaces and dives again, presumably looking for some lunch. I’d been hoping to see a dolphin’s face or for it to leap out of the water doing the sort of acrobatics you see on television, but this much more natural feeling viewing is also wonderful, and happily we now have two of the Marine Big 5!

On the way back we stay alert hoping to spot another of the Big 5 but with no luck. At one point close to the wharf though, a huge pelican lands on the boat. The crew come back out with some fish and proceed to feed it. The pelican stands first behind another passenger and then moves to right behind Sara where it towers over her while catching fish over her shoulder. She couldn’t be closer to the pelican if she tried, and it’s quiet the end to an eventful cruise!

Mossie doesn’t mention the pelican’s name. We decide to call her Paula

No, this isn’t as close as Paula gets to Sara…

THIS is how close Paula gets to Sara! (Told ya, couldn’t be closer)

On the drive back, we spot some camels ambling down a hill from the road near the sea, and on arriving in Swapokmund we ask to be dropped at The Fish Deli, a restaurant we’d wanted to try. As we walk up to the door, we spot Melissa through the window sitting by herself in the restaurant. We happily join her and it’s extremely fortunate that we’re able to do so as the restaurant is fully booked. Obviously after this morning, we’re going to need to have some more of the Walvis Bay oysters, and what luck! They sell them here. We order some plus a seafood platter to share between the two of us and bring Melissa up to date on our morning’s adventure, hearing also from her how the tour she’d done yesterday (The Living Desert) had been.

Seafood platter and fizz: lunch of champions

After lunch, the three of us go to Ice & Spice on the next block for some ice cream and do a little souvenir shopping for a beaded pumba. We also debated buying a beaded kudu but can’t agree a price with the vendor so decide against it. This is the one non-purchase I regret.

🎶Holiday… it’s the best day… ice cream day… I’m only happy … when I have… holiday (holiday) holiday (holiday) holiday (holiday) holiday! 🎶

Back at Amapuri, we spend a bit more time catching up on the blog before dinner. We have reservations tonight at The Tug, a recommendation from Danie before we came away, and have high hopes for it having seen it beside the pier where we had lunch yesterday. We’re collected by the restaurant’s shuttle and seated at a table with views over the ocean.

On reading the menu, we find they have Walvis Bay oysters on offer! It seems rude not to, so for the third time today we order some as our starter, and for main Sara orders springbok medallions while I order O’Kapana, a traditional Namibian beef dish. The oysters are divine, as we’ve come to expect, and the springbok medallions are also wonderful. The O’Kapana is nice but maybe not something I’d order again in preference to a regular steak. Neither of us then needs dessert but, since it’s our last day in Swapokmund and we’ve had a lovely day, we opt to share the Ebony and Ivory, a mix of dark chocolate and vanilla & amarula mousses. I’m once again at very real risk of popping. All things considered, today’s been a fantastic day, especially in view of it being Plan B instead of our originally envisioned activities.

Mains - thank you Danie for recommending this place!

🎶 Ebony and Ivory come together in perfect harmony 🎶

11 February 2020 (day 70)

We leave Swapokmund and set off in the truck back into the Namib desert proper on our journey southwards. After we pass the white golden dunes, the landscape once again is uncannily like Northern Arizona with its colours, sometimes sparse bush and plantlife, sometimes distant mountains, and huge sky.

Not terribly long after leaving Swapokmund, we pull up at the side of the road at a sign for the Tropic of Capricorn. We’ve previously passed the Equator going north through Kenya and south through Uganda, but now after 10 weeks on the road we’re finally leaving the tropics entirely. It’s a little bittersweet to be here: on the one hand it’s an exciting landmark to be at, but on the other hand it’s a reminder that we’re only a week from Cape Town and truck life is now in its final few days.

Instagramable photo at the Tropic of Capricorn ✅

Silverback ready to keep on truckin’ south

Obligatory photos taken, it’s back in the truck and onwards through the sweltering desert. We have African air conditioning turned up to high (i.e. the windows are all as open as they can be) as the day gets hotter and hotter and the landscape more and more dazzling.

Eventually we arrive in Solitaire, a little town which, if anything, manages to look even more like Arizona and the USA than everything that’s come before. There are decorative old cars rusting in the sun, lightly rusting metal signage with American looking fonts, and a large metal windmill.

On reflection, “Solitairizona” totally works

As if to cement the Americana of the place, the smell of apple pie wafts through the air from a cafe serving the rest stop. We’ve heard this apple pie is famously good so of course buy some to try. It’s an odd thing to be selling fresh from the oven in the middle of the baking hot desert when there are no apple trees for miles around, but some things perhaps shouldn’t be questioned too much. In any event, the apple pie for sure was one of the best I’ve ever had. Sara, as an American, reckons she’s had better but agrees this is still really very good.

The final kilometres of the day take us to Sesriem campsite, the only campsite inside the gates of Sossuvlei in Namib-Naukluft National Park. Melissa and I put up three tents between us but leave setting up the interiors for when it cools down later. While most people then head to the pool to cool down, I fetch ciders for me and Sara and we hang out in the shade of the truck watching the occasional oryx sheltering from the sun under a nearby tree.

Dinner is accompanied by another beautiful African sunset behind the large tree in our stone camping circle.

Our two tents and Melissa’s one tent: all expertly erected. Photo credit: @meli444violet

Oh African campsites and sunsets, you spoil us! Photo credit: @meli444violet

Once we’ve finished eating, some of the group go to the bar but it’s too far from the campsite for Sara to walk. With most of the others turned in for the night at this stage (or possibly just watching Netflix on iPads in their tents), we hang out for a little while before going to bed early given it’s a very, very early wake up tomorrow morning.

Some time after falling asleep, I’m woken by unexpected sound and movement by my tent. I sit up and realise something or someone is tugging determinedly at my tent’s rain cover, which is tucked firmly under the front right corner of my tent. It must be the boys back from the bar and being scampish, I rationalise, and I call quietly “who’s there?” but to no response.

Because of the heat, I’ve zipped closed the bug screen at the entrance to the tent but left the door rolled up for air circulation, and I peer through to see what thief is trying to steal my rain cover. There’s no one there and the tugging sound stops a few moments later. It’s all very disconcerting, and I stay put in case the culprit reveals himself. As my eyes adjust, I see shadows moving around some tents perhaps 15m away from me, but they’re too low to the ground to be human. Maybe aardvarks or porcupines, I think excitedly to myself, and I have my nose pressed up to the bug screen when a jackal trots past right in front of me. I’d no idea jackals even lived in the middle of the desert but the mystery is now solved and I have a much clearer understanding of why we’ve been warned on multiple occasions before not to leave our shoes outside the tents at night!