A chicken braai dinner was prepared for us in the open sided wood and reed shelter.

We finished off the evening with a nightcap in the outdoor bar and the good news that Gerda had been picked up from the border and was safe in South Africa. Attempts were already underway to have her rejoin us later in the trip.

July 4

Sherrie was up before sunrise with her camera.

By the time she got back the large cone-shaped kettle was steaming and Gerda had made it back across the border in time for breakfast.

 [Photo of Gerda, Joseph and Guts pouring the big kettle.]

"Don’t expect this kind of comfort the next time we camp," said Guts as we packed up our gear and headed back out onto Namibia’s dirt roads.

Yesterday, shortly after crossing the border, Guts did a count down "... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ...", he glanced out the front window "... 2 ...", another glance ".... 1 !! We are now officially in Namibia!" he said with excitement as we left one of Namibia’s tar roads, which link major centres, and hit ... literally hit ... one of the more common gravel roads. "Isn’t this great! Now we can FEEL Namibia as well as see it!"

While we were spending the day in Cape Town atop Table Mountain and touring the city, Joseph had taken the bus in for maintenance, a new right front tire and an extra spare tire and rim.

Driving these roads takes skill, patience, concentration and kidneys on springboards. No need for speed signs; if the pot holes don’t slow you down the gullies bottoming out on a river bed will. Namibia’s gravel roads undulate with the landscape. It would be to costly to try to level then out and would be a exercise in frustration as a road’s condition at any given time is only as good as heavy rains, winds, dust storms and road graders will allow. The grader operators have a steady job and their commute to work is not a long one ... just a step outside their mobile tent and into the cab of their machine. Namibian roads are the kind of roads men talk about over a beer as though they were telling fish stories. "I was driving in Namibia late one night when I saw a rabbit on the road. Not wanting to run over the little critter, I stopped. Good thing I did, it wasn’t a rabbit at all but a giraffe in a pothole."

"Okay, G.A.P Group ... everyone out!" We had been watching the flat landscape around us with low mountains in the distance ... there was nothing out there except the odd tumbleweed and spaced telephone poles. What could we possibly be getting out for?

"Line up G.A.P Group. Make one long line right over here." Like sheep we followed Guts’s instructions (except Sherrie who had to get a photo of this peculiar behaviour).

"Come on, Sherrie, you too." She joined the line with our backs towards the sun. "Okay G.A.P Group make funny shadows."

Let us introduce you: left to right:

Ros, Meredith, Stacey behind Kelley, Terry and Sherrie, Nadine, Joseph, Sam in front of Alistair, Carley, Debbie, Kaye, Hartley, and in front with the yellow scarf is Dana (allergic to sun), Fiona, Nick (from England), Nick (from Edmonton) and Jim.

Twenty kilometres away from the Hobas viewpoint, we stopped for lunch at the Canon Roadhouse. It’s not a large place and any available corner is taken up with interesting antiques, like an old enamel stove, washtub, gas pumps and post office mailboxes. Old cars add to the outside decor and prove they have been there for awhile by their patina and the cacti growing through the engine compartment. We were still comfortable from breakfast so tried to order the lightest things on the menu, telling each other that dinner tonight would be "eat-in" at our accommodations; we had accumulated enough snacks to tide us over nicely.

Also outside the Canon Roadhouse are two Bastard Quiver trees (Aloe pillansii). We had seen them elsewhere breaking the low arid landscape. Its English name was penned because the San (bushmen) used the tree’s soft branches to fashion quivers for their arrows. This iconic tree of southern Africa is known to reach the ripe old age of 450 years but rain pattern changes because of climate change have caused its lifespan to shorten considerably. As older plants are dying and few seedlings are successfully sprouting, the Bastard Quiver is in danger of becoming extinct with estimates suggesting less than 3,000 remaining in the wild today.

Guts asked if we wanted to have girls in one room and boys in the other or co-ed. Co-ed was the resounding response with one identified person adding, "old folks in one room and the rest of us in the other."

Joseph backed the bus up as close as he could to the doorway and we off loaded the bags, two propane gas hot plates and two propane tanks. No sooner did we get everyone settled into who was going to sleep where, when the power went off. After some fumbling around in the dark and quiet mutterings, flashlight (Brits, Aussies and Kiwis call them ‘torches’) and headlamp light started filling small areas. Sherrie remembered seeing a candle in the kitchen. She lit it with a not too damp match and put it on one of the kitchen tables away from the puddles of dripping water. The wind came through the wide cracks between the wall sticks and blew it out. Guts found the fuse box but couldn’t get the power back on.

Using one of the four remaining matches, Guts managed to start both burners on one of the propane hot plates and put it on the counter in hopes, futile though they were, to warm the windswept room. Darkness, dampness and cold settled in and people were anxious to go somewhere warm for dinner.

"Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind and come?" Guts asked. We glanced at each other wondering what the other really wanted to do.

"No, we’re fine."

"You’re staying here?" someone asked in amazement. "Are you crazy?"

"You’ve got to be kidding," someone else added.

"We actually kind of enjoy this sort of thing. We have some snacks. We’ll be fine."

"Alright then," and with that they all left and piled back into the bus. We wondered if they would get stuck in a mucky hole. We didn’t envy Joseph having to battle the darkness, rain and terrible water soaked roads.

We didn’t waste much time getting settled in. Sherrie pulled one of the tables to a dry spot, wiped down two of the chairs and relit the candle using the propane stove to save a match. The wind through the walls blew it out again. This wasn’t going to work.

We surveyed the second room; it would be warmer ... well, at least less breezy. A table wouldn’t fit through the door and would take up too much room. Instead we took the plastic container that holds pots and pans into the second room and put a towel tablecloth on top.

Terry moved in two chairs and the propane hot plate, putting it on the floor between the chairs. In the light of the candle, which now stayed lit, we got our bag of goodies and spread our bounty on top of the towel: four different kinds of gourmet cheeses and the complimentary bottle of wine from Zevenwacht Wine Estates, dried ostrich from Cango Ostrich Farm, crackers and apples from a market we stopped at yesterday and for dessert some fine rich Tomes Chocolate from Blacksberg Wine Estates. We huddled over the propane stove, sipped wine from the bottle, nibbled our delicacies and laughed. These are the kind of travel moments that become the fondest of memories.

After cleaning up and putting things back we took off our shoes and climbed into our bunk beds, in the second room, pushed up against the window and the unused fireplace. Water dripped down from the seeping roof above Terry’s head and splashed against the cone shaped chimney, what didn’t splash on Terry, dribbled down the rest of the chimney and dripped from the firebox opening onto the bed-high hearth to give Sherrie just a hint of what Terry was experiencing. We squished ourselves further down the bed and under the blankets.

We were just drifting off when the others arrived back and teased us for staying here in the cold and wet and eating leftover snacks. We smiled, closed our eyes and rolled over.

July 5

We got up before the rest with intentions of starting a fire in the kitchen’s fireplace and putting on hot water for washing and coffee. It had rained all night and the roof had leaked. Anything we had brought in from the bus was now damp. After having to disturb Guts for matches, we lit the propane stove first and then the candle. It blew out again. By putting a dishcloth over a dish rack and using it as a windbreak, we were able to keep it lit. On the floor of the fireplace there was a deep puddle of water and more was coming down the chimney ... it would not allow a fire.

As the others got up without light, without heat and without hot showers ... their focus was to leave and find someplace warm ... and dry. Only the very caffeine-needy stopped long enough for coffee as Joseph once again backed up the bus to the door.

The breakfast buffet at the lodge was plentiful. The porridge was hot, as was the coffee. Holding a cup of the hot brew was as pleasurable as drinking it. Once we were full, warm and had caught up on world soccer scores, we ran to the bus and wished Joseph a trouble free driving day.

The windows in the bus were constantly steaming up and Guts continued to wipe Joseph’s window with newspaper while the rest of us used our sleeves to clear spots in order to see the limited view, punctuated now and then with antelope and ostrich.

The rain ceased as we stopped for a stretch and to have a closer look at a Social (or Sociable) weaver nest. These little sparrow-related birds are aptly named for as many as three or four hundred of them can live together in a single "apartment block". By pushing straws, one by one, into this freeform structure, it is continually added to and maintained by all its inhabitants. The trouble is, they don’t know when to stop. Some of these architectural masterpieces are more than a century old and can become so heavy that they break branches upon which they settle.

Living in a large common nesting site has considerable advantages over small isolated nests when it comes to living in the desert. Days can get blistering hot; the thick thatch roof keeps the apartments beneath nice and cool. At night when desert temperatures can fall below freezing, the thatch acts like insulation for the nest chambers, maintaining much of the heat from the day, so the birds inside remain snug and warm.

Not all the chambers are for nesting, some are simply bedrooms in which several of the colony members snuggle together for warmth. So comfortable are these rooms that they are sometimes appreciated by others, like lovebirds, barbets, tits and finches. Vultures, owls, eagles and even geese have found the weaver’s roofs to be handy ready-made nesting platforms.

While we oohed and ahhed under the weaver’s nest, Guts was proving once again he is a ‘company man’ who takes a negative and turns it into a positive. This time, using his finger, he was writing "G.A.P Adventures" in the dirt covering the bus.

Helmeringhausen is a little ... real little ... town sitting on a limestone plateau amidst distant mountains and plains peppered with thorn bushes and succulents. Our purpose for stopping was to pick up a sandwich for lunch on the road and to allow Joseph to top up the gas tank. A visit to ‘the’ store in town reminded us of all-purpose stores we had seen in other small towns, offering everything from tools to toilet paper.

While waiting to board the bus again, the rest of us added to Guts’s in-mud-advertising with our own names, countries and sayings.

"What’s going on over there?" Guts inquired questioningly. In a landscape which, at first glance doesn’t look like it has much to offer, in reality offers much to see.

"What’s this, Guts?" Terry asked looking down at a large bug. It looked like something out of a bad Japanese sci-fi movie ... body armour with spikes on the neck plate, long thorny legs with flexible feet, two thread-like antenna and a body similar to that of an armadillo.

"Oh, that," Guts said, not hesitating to bend down and pick it up, "is an armoured corn beetle. They are harmless." He picked up a second and took them onto the bus.

Joseph, pulled the bus forward stopping to pick up passengers as he approached them. Guts put the two beetles on his red shirt and sat on the seat opposite the door. It was fun to watch the reaction as people noticed; some pushed back as far as they could and squirmed passed, not taking their eyes off Guts or the bugs; while others bent in for a closer look. We were wondering how Nadine, who doesn’t like small unidentified creatures, would react. Joseph stopped again to let Nadine and Hartley board. Much to Guts’s disappointment and our amazement, Nadine stopped and talked to Guts about something without noticing the 60mm long bugs right in front of her and then continued down the aisle and took her seat. The bus exploded with laughter.

"What? What?" Nadine questioned, looking around to see what she had missed and still not noticing the corn beetles making their way up to Guts’s neck.

"You didn’t notice my friends," Guts pointed to his chest. It was then that Nadine screamed, jumped back and covered her eyes. Guts, didn’t approach her but instead extracted the insects from his shirt, climbed down from the bus and put them safely on the side of the road, telling them to be careful and have a nice life.

Trees gave way to cacti as we got closer to the Namib Desert.

Our night’s lodgings, at Nubib Nature Camp, were individual cottages made in adobe fashion with canvas tent-style windows. We were pleased to see extra blankets piled on one of the deep window sills, because the sun was setting and already the desert air was cooling down rapidly.

Later, walking back to our cottage, we were surrounded with blinding black ... no house lights ... no street lights ... no city lights in the distance ... just black. It was even difficult to see our outstretched hands without a flashlight ... but ... the moon and stars were unbelievably brilliant. The milky-way spilled across velvet black. This is how the ancients would have seen it ... clear ... without air pollution or light pollution ... we understood why they named it ‘the milky way’.

July 6

It was still dark when we got up around 04:30. Guts had said it would be worth our while to do so. He wanted us to be at Namib-Naukluft National Park when the gates opened at sunrise. "It will be worth it; you’ll see."

"Namib" means "open space" and the Namib Desert, thought to be the Earth’s oldest desert (at least 55 million years), gave its name to the country ... "Namibia ... land of open spaces." These dunes are the world’s tallest, some rising more than 300 meters (almost 1000 feet) above the desert floor. The winds created them, but today they are settled and relatively stable with only the tops shifting slightly, one way or the other, by changing winds.

Their colouring is magnificent ... a painter’s ‘burnt sienna’ ... a rich rust colour ... and that is exactly what causes it ... rust ... the iron in the sand has oxidized, like rusty metal. The older the dune, the brighter the colour.

Guts has been in pursuit of a personal photograph of an Oryx against a red sand dune. He didn’t have any better luck today, but he was able to capture an ostrich. It is amazing that any animal or bird would venture into this parched territory of less then 10mm (0.4 inches) of annual rainfall and infrequent flash floods.

We transferred to 4x4s to go even further and when the 4x4s could drive no further, we got out and walked.

Walking over the rust coloured sand of the Namib Desert on our way to Dead Vlei, Guts stopped numerous times to show us small local wildlife which manages to survive off morning mist and rare rainfalls. He picked up a couple of different beetles and then a shovel-snouted lizard. It took a lot of big people to catch one speedy little 11 cm long lizard whose gait is an odd one as it alternatively raises opposite front and hind legs high in the air as if it were on stilts, using the base of its tail for support.

The shovel-snouted lizard has another odd trait which Guts demonstrated, using Debbie as a model. When the little fellow ... actually we could not tell if it was male or female ... bites onto something, it won’t let go. Guts held it until it clamped onto Debbie’s earlobe and there it hung, like a piece of living jewellery, until he gently took it off. Don’t tell Paris Hilton, she just might give up her purse dog for a matching set of lizards.

Dead Vlei was once a shallow clay pan lake. The water allowed camel thorn trees to grow and thrive ... until the desert closed in. Some of the black, sun scorched tree skeletons, preserved by dry desert air, are believed to be about 900 years old.

Leaving the valley of dunes, we joined up with the Tsauchab riverbed again at Sesriem Canyon. In pioneer days, travellers would rest and water their animals here. They had to know where it was because, like the Fish River Canyon, it is almost impossible to discern it in the flat landscape.

The name, Sesriem, was derived from the need for those early visitors to lower a bucket down from the canyon rim to a pool of water at the bottom. To do so, they needed six (ses) leather thongs (reim). We hiked down to the bottom and then along the narrow riverbed between 30 metre high walls. This is winter, the dry season; in summer with heavy rains in the mountains, this slim canyon can witness flash floods with water wall to wall within minutes.

Most times of the year there is a small pool of water near the location where recently a huge, bus size, piece of canyon wall broke off and crashed to the floor. It was in spots such as this that two young German geologists, Henno Martin and Hermann Korn, sought refuge from internment during World War II. They lived a Robinson Crusoe existence for two and a half years. How they managed such a feat is the subject of their book, ‘The Sheltering Desert’.

Along the edge of the desert the land became more hospitable with natural grasses, still not in abundance but enough to satisfy herds of springbok.

Namib Desert Lodge, another of the Gondwanna group of accommodations, was a pleasant way to wrap-up a day of stimulating natural beauty. Fiona, Carley and Alister tried the winter temperature pool (not for long) while we, with visions of the red dunes still clearly in our mind’s eye, sipped a drink beside the pool and watched the sun set behind fossilized dunes of ancient Namib.

Unless you are a local, it would be most difficult to pass the "Tropic of Capricorn" sign (about 40 km north of Solitaire) and not have a picture taken ... so we did ... the three of us.

"Okay, G.A.P Group; boys on the left, girls on the right." This time there were no knee-high tumbleweeds for modesty ... only two options ... to pee or not to pee.

At the north-west corner of the Namib Desert, we joined up with the coast at Walvis Bay. Up until 1994, Walvis Bay and its offshore islands were held by South Africa. Now they have been incorporated into the Republic of Namibia. Walvis Bay, dominated by its fishing industry, is considered Namibia’s major port and the lagoon Namibia’s most important wetlands.

For lunch we went to the Raft Restaurant which stands on tip-toe stilts at the edge of the lagoon ... prices reasonable, food quite tasty, the atmosphere and view relaxing and ideal.

Heading north from Walvis Bay, we passed Brad and Angelina’s home; they were out somewhere with the kids.

Along the coast road Guts pointed out the reason for Walvis Bay’s distinctive aroma. It was an unimpressive, flat topped, man-made "island". With all the fishing in the area, some brilliant fellow took the waste products, turned them into fish meal creating the "fish meal fertilizer capital of the world" and became stinking rich in the process. After forty years, however, a number of residents are creating a stink of their own saying the city has discovered its tourism potential and the income which could be generated ... but ... "the smell has got to go or the tourists won’t come."

Northward we drove with Namib Desert dunes on our right and the Atlantic Ocean on our left. This area was named the Skeleton Coast because of all the bleached whale and seal bones which covered the shore when the whaling industry was still active, as well as the skeletal remains of shipwrecks scattered along its often foggy coastline.

We reached Swakopmund (meaning mouth of the Swakop River), Namibia’s second largest town. In the summer months, December and January, Swakopmund’s population swells with people trying to escape the desert heat and cool themselves with ocean breezes; but this is winter and we were looking forward to some fun in the sun. To that end, we stopped in at Desert Explorers Adventure Centre and saw a video on all the activities they offer. Many in our group signed up for skydiving and sand boarding.  Their ad said, "Quad biking with Desert Explorers is the best way to experience the pristine beauty of the Namib Desert and its magnificent dunes." It continued with, "No prior experience is needed and you will never be too old ... Do it or regret it!" We signed up for tomorrow.

July 8

One of the Desert Explorer guides explained the tour groups ... there are three. Fast for those with experience who wanted an adrenalin rush; moderate for those who wanted some adventure and a little speed; easy for those who wanted to take it easy, safe and see the views. Continuing without hesitation, he described the different quad bike styles ... there were three. First there were the "fully automatic over here," he pointed right and Sherrie followed his direction. The other choices were full gears, which would require using a clutch between gears, and on the left were the semi automatics; 6 gear changes, no clutch ... Terry went over there, as did Guts, Gerda and Alistair.

"Everybody ready? Lets pull out?"

On the left side Guts pulled out following the guide, then Terry, Gerda and Alister. Behind them a guide and another group pulled out. Lastly another guide with Carley, Dana, Fiona and Sherrie.

Sherrie was aware she was in the easy group but many of the others didn’t know that "pull out" meant pick a group and follow the leader. Consequently Dana, Fiona and Carley were soon frustrated with the lack of speed and challenge in the easy group and Terry was having the experience of a lifetime.

After a few minutes instruction those willing to hurl themselves down a steep slope of sand, were given a board, rough on one side and waxed on the smooth "race base" (sand dune) side. They started off at a "lower" dune elevation while Sherrie parked herself halfway down the slope to take photos. Guts also took his camera and got some great shots.

For the second run, those who dared to venture up further carried their boards to the top of the dune while Guts moved to a lower position and clicked some keepers including Meredith’s incredible wipe-out.

There were a number of wipe-outs.  Yesterday we thought cleaning out sand from between toes was difficult ... Meredith was discovering sand packed crevices on and about her body for days to come.

Carley, Dana and Fiona left the easy and joined the moderate group for the quad bike trip back to the Adventure Centre which left Sherrie alone with her guide. She felt a little guilty because she knew her guide also wanted to be more adventurous.

Guts told us that he had never guided a group before where such a high number of people signed up for activities. Sky diving ... including a number of the eleven who had never done it before ... and a number who will never do it again ... " been there, done that". Nick and Nick did the stand-up style of sand boarding. Many did multiple adventures. Debbie and Nadine who took the Township Tour faced their own challenges including eating a traditional township lunch. Debbie brought back appetizers to share with others at dinner.

"Mister Terry" continued on his wild ways, as did Hartley, Dana and a couple of others when Debbie passed around her "appetizer" bag of Mopani worms. They are not actually worms but a caterpillar which may become a moth, if not eaten. They are an important source of protein for millions of southern Africans. They were dead ... perhaps fried and were washed down with a long swig of heady beer ... it had been a heady kind of day.

July 9

A short way up the coast, north of Swakopmund, we stopped at a lichen field.

Though the fields experience little or no rainfall, the ocean fog brings moisture in the air and gives life to over 100 different kinds of lichen. Lichen is a special kind of plant with a perfect interaction between two living things, algae and fungi. These lichen form a protective crust on the desert surface providing food and shelter for a variety of beetles and small animals.

Guts picked up one of the tiny beetles to show us.

The lichen fields along the Namibian coastline are unique worldwide. The rare orange species (teloschistes capensis), which becomes brighter when fog rolls in, is a bushy variety which can grow to 10cm high, while others lie flat on the rocky gypsum surface. We were careful not to step on any of this delicate plant life.

Making a right hand turn on C35, a straight gravel highway stretches on ... and on ... and on ... and ... There is a saying about this road, "If your wife leaves you, you can watch her leave for three days."

At Brandberg Rest Camp we took a lunch break, stretched our legs and met the owner of the past four years, Basil. He looks a little like a desert pirate with Kiki, the African grey parrot on his shoulder and a jolly har-thar-matey type personality to match.

Elephants!

We were not in a game farm nor in a wildlife reserve ... just wild, open, Namibia. Long ago elephants were free to roam all the way from the edge of the Sahara Desert to the Cape of Good Hope. They used to follow migratory routes with elders teaching young where to find food and water.

If the 600,000 elephants living in Africa today had their way, they would still be trekking their ancient routes.

One of the ladies, with braided hair and not in traditional dress, used wooden crutches to get around ... the result of being bitten by a Puff Adder.

These bad tempered snakes with long fangs and toxic venom, have excellent camouflaging ability which makes them extremely dangerous. Their reluctance to flee and their habit of sunning themselves by footpaths are the reasons why this snake is responsible for most snakebite fatalities in Africa. This lady was asleep in her home when she was bitten, but at the time she didn’t know by what. Over a number of days her leg hurt and became very swollen. It wasn’t until she was cleaning her home that she came across the snake. By the time her father got her to medical care it was too late to save her leg but they did save her life. Today she sells crafts at the roadside stand and will do a little hair braiding for a small charge.

Our next stop was at the Twyfelfontein National Heritage Site, a UNESCO World Heritage site, to view ancient rock art. People have lived at Twyfelfontein for more than 5,000 years. They were hunter-gatherers for most of that time, relying on an isolated spring during the dry months of the year. These people left behind large quantities of stone tools, fragments of bone and beads. Over the last three generations people knew the rock art was here but stayed away from the sites because they thought then to be powerful places, ‘like graves’ and the rock art the work of ‘ancestors’, since no living link to the art remained.

Today a community of about 50 people live immediately outside the Twyfelfontein Reserve. Aged between 17 and 35, a number of them work as guides. Tours at Twyfelfontein must be conducted by a local guide and Guts was not allowed to accompany us because "outside guides may intimidate local guides." The woman who was our guide was the most uninformative and uninspiring guide we had met in Africa. A sign said the guides have "a strong pride in their work" but unfortunately ours only showed boredom.