A Poor Start

We leave the next morning without Nick and Lee as the aging TDI is getting a new gearbox and numerous other repairs. They will catch up as soon as they can. Our first destination according to the route is Homeb a primitive camp with no water and only "long drop" toilets. We are glad that we are not arriving on an airplane and need of a shower.

We leave around noon and spend the afternoon winding our way out of the mountains and hills and towards the ocean and the Nambi National Park. The farther west we go the more desolate and barren the landscape gets. At times you would think that you are driving across the moon. Dropping into a valley brings us to the Nambi River. It is currently dry; however the subsoil moisture supports a little oasis of acacia trees and the location of our campsite. We are little concerned and confused because the other group should have been here.

By now we are so practiced at setting up camp it is over and done with before the dust has settled. Shortly before dark a Toyota Hilux pickup truck with a roof top tent drives by, but they don't seem to notice us in the trees. Jim goes out and flags them down and the first of the new crew have made it in. This is the Scottish couple Jon and Beth (names changed to protect the innocent). Jon is a wiry man of modest stature and his wife Beth is quite plump. She is not able to climb the ladder because of arthritis problems in her ankles, so they will not be able use the roof top tent and will ultimately buy a tent in the next town.

Half an hour later a yellow Camel Trophy Land Rover cruises in with the finial addition to the group: Joe and Isabel. He is English and she is Italian. Both are fit and well prepared for this adventure. When they catch their breath they deliver some bad news. One of the other Toyota Hilux pickup trucks has flipped on the way here and Neil and Sam are staying with them until help arrives. An Iridium phone would work wonders at this moment. We get bits and pieces of the story, but nobody really knows it. So we wait expectedly and the dark closes around us.

A campfire pushes away the darkness and we sit around telling our stories and adventures with the four newcomers. Beth is apparently relaxing after long flight from Scotland and several times offers to pour some vodka and juice for whoever wants it. It's past ten when K2 and I hit the sack, however this slumber is not to last. Around 11pm a full set of safari lights enter the campground and comes to dust raising halt between the Field's truck and ours. I get out of bed and greet Sam and Neil and turn and get the story about the accident. The other Toyota was being driven by Andy and Sharon, the couple that was supposed to be our "sweep" vehicle. The truck is probably totaled and Andy is suffering a large gash on his knee. He wasn't wearing a seat belt. Sharon had some pain in her back so Sam immobilized her for the transport to the hospital. Neil had gone find a ranch in the desolate county to make a call from while Sam treated Andy and Sharon. There is some question if Andy and Sharon will join us for the remainder of the trip.

I am tired and sleepy, so I head back to bed. So within yards of our two trucks Sam and Neil make camp. This includes building a fire that proceeds to smoke the Fields and us till morning. The focus of the evening changes from the campfire that we started 30 yards away to the new fire and fresh conversation only yards away. The Camel Trophy couple has gone to bed, but the Scottish couple or at least Beth is burning the candle at both ends. Some while later I wake up to Beth, in a loud drunken voice asking for a "wee dram of vodka." From my roof top perch I look out our window and see Sam, Neil, his girlfriend, Jim and Beth sitting around the fire. In the next moment without moving from her chair Beth is vomiting the contents of her stomach over her shoulder with practiced ease. In the next breath she is asking for another "wee dram." Sam grabs a shove and covers the mess and offers some water instead, always the safari guide. To this I attempt to go back to sleep.

Morning brings new hope, dreams of sleep and people just outside the truck who think that they are whispering but aren't. Note to self: Don't camp anywhere near Neil and Sam's truck. We get the morning briefing from Neil. Basically is a low mileage day. Our new camp is only 30km north. This is a nice change. We have been moving so much for the past two weeks, that sometimes the more you move the less you see.
 

Dunes and Desert

Our three trucks head out on a parallel road that takes us back to the north side of the park. The Fields, in the Land Cruiser decide to go to the shore side town of Walvis Bay for lunch and we guess that they will stay the night. Jim, Adam, K2 and I head north into the park to see what we can see. Its desert like area and it hard to imagine what the grazing animals are eating. We stop for lunch at a watering hole crowded with Ostrich and stay for the afternoon. Sitting in the shade of an acacia tree we watch the wildlife slowly grow accustomed to our trucks and presence. The water hole is supplied by a single cylinder diesel engine that pops and chugs continually into void of the desert. It reliable as the backbeat to a dance hit. Finally the Ostrich start to return to the water and just when they reach it another truck arrives and drives them away. After three hours of patiently waiting, we start to understand what wildlife photographers go through to get the great shots that they have. It was nice to just sit and watch the landscape, to soak in the heat of the day, to smell the land. This too is Africa.

After the sun creeps down the sky and loses it's harshness we head out to take some pictures. Despite the barren country grazing animals are everywhere; Zebra (or Zedbra as the English say), antelope of all type, and especially Ostrich. They are wary and shy at any encounter with the trucks so the sightings are figurate, and are usually of their backside running away. Adam and Jim have a flat on one particularly rugged part of the trail and this becomes a photo and video opportunity. Darkness is not far away when we make it to camp in the backside of large a granite dome just as the sun drops into the horizon. I heed my note to myself and camp well away from Sam and Neil's truck.

We break camp early in hope catching some good light we head west to the town of Walvis Bay on the shore. It's my 45th birthday today and there is little else that I could want in life. The anticipation is high for the sight of the Atlantic Ocean. This will be our first sight of the southern Atlantic Ocean, let alone any significant body of water in many months. Also there are some awesome sand dunes along the coast to see. Though we are discourage to learn that we will not be passing through the heart of these dunes as we have previously been lead to believe by Neil.

The town is a working port and we can't manage to get close to the ocean, though we did pass a few great dunes on the way in. The Fields catch up with us as we stop at a cafe for a coffee and hot chocolate. Turns out they did stay the night in nice hotel with soft beds and warm showers. Heading out of town to north we finally find the Atlantic Ocean and we stop for pictures and dipping our feet in the cold salty water. Inspired by the sandy shore we continue north, but not on the road on the dunes and beach along the water. As if predicting the future, Martin objects with the proclamation of "we will get stuck".

The sand is firm and we follow a well worn and packed two wheel track down the beach and among the shore dunes. Adam and Jim are doing steady-cam video from their truck as we all blast along the beach. K2 and I stop to get some pictures and when we catch up the group Adam and Jim have taken a lower route, and the Fields have taken an upper route. The lower route looks rutted and soft so we stay high, and in a few moments the radio crackles with Jim's voice with a slightly bemused sound in it. He says's he stuck. We pause and look down the rise to where Jim and Adam sit when I notice a well worn track down to their route. Eveready for an adventure I head down the bank and make it within 10 feet of the parallel track before the Land Rover bogs down and stalls in its tracks. We are stuck. It's all in good fun and in after half of hour of letting the tires down and backing and pushing both vehicles are free and back at the road. K2 gets the privilege of driving our truck to freedom as we push it free.

Back on the road north we start passing large dunes on our right when a quad-cycle outfit comes in view. With no discusion we head into the place and line up for a 45 minute tour that turns into an hour and a half of screaming across the dunes in quad-cycles. It' been a full day now and just now 1pm as we head into Swakopmund, a little German Tourist village where we have lunch, have tires repaired and stock up for the wilderness to come.

Here we cut away from the ocean and dunes and into the desolate barren near desert of what makes up this part of Namibia. It's a long monotonous drive on good two lane road till our turn toward tonight's campground. We pass locals posted at the corners and in front of their modest dwelling selling was appears to be rose quartz and other mineral that they have pick up of the ground. Our campground is typical what will become a theme in Namibia. Built and run by the local villages using low interest funds provided by the government. They vary in accommodation, from basic, like this one with primitive camping with long drop toilets and no showers to flush toilets and hot and cold showers. The hot part is usually provided by passing the water through a 55 gallon drum with a fire built under it. Again we are camped at the base of a granite dome. There must be some theme that I am missing, but it is a dramatic setting. The sweep drivers are with us having acquired a new vehicle, and Nick and Lee have returned to the group. For the first time everybody is here.

The four of our vehicles are still driving as convoy, because we have learned that we are more or less dependent on each other for spares, tire pumps and the like. The Scottish couple and the Camel Trophy truck are driving together. Sam and Neil (and Neil's girlfriend whom I will nickname PigPen) are usually in Sam's 130 Land Rover, driving lead, marking turns with red and white striped tape. Where is that tape anyway? The so called sweep vehicle with Andy and Sharon, a Toyota Hilux is supposed to follow everyone and provide support assistance to troubled trucks. PigPen is our nickname for Neil's girlfriend because while he is making cracks about us washing too much she is sitting in the dust piling it all over her legs. After two weeks there is some rumor that she has not changed the shorts that started the trip with.

This camping area is cluttered with these granite domes and the morning's activity is to drive amongst them and attempt to find the features that are identified on the poorly drawn map that was provide to us. The map is probably from the community so Neil won't be held accountable for its accuracy. After an hour of this our group is well separated and K2 and I head out to follow the route to the next stop – lunch at Uis. We pass the lead and sweep vehicle at the gate of the campground and stop and wait for the Fields at a local craft road side attraction. We have no idea where the other our other two Land Rovers of our group are and the radio range is limited by the granite domes. Us and the Fields head out to the next stop when then tulip charts start providing whacky turn directions. Lucky our destination is on the map, so we ignore the directions and head toward lunch. At a high point on the road I am able to reach Jim by radio and find out that he and the TDI are still in the campground trying to find the cave. We agree to meet at the lunch stop and proceed. The wide dirt straight dirt road stretches out before us and the empty landscape swallows us up. Did we take a wrong turn in Las Vegas and get lost in Nevada we wonder. Two hours later we pass the "Sweep" vehicle just a few miles from our lunch stop.

We are on the edge of the edge. Uis has all the faded glory of a Tin mining town that has shutdown. Huge piles of blazing white mining remains dominate the landscape. This sleepy village has two grocery stores, two restaurants, and one gas station. Though nobody can really tell me why there is this much herd. Eventually the whole gang is sitting at the same table at the same time. We are shaded from the sun on the back patio of a resort that is long past its zenith of glory. The pool behind us has turned an odd shade of green that nobody but a few of us thinks is peculiar. Attempts to flush the toilets, wash hands or faces are foiled by the lack of water coming from the taps. Seems as half the town is without water, our half in particular. We order lunch, only to find a few minutes later that one of the workers has gone to get firewood and taken the key to the freezer with him. Lunch will be delayed. Forty-five minutes passes without any keys so we up and move to the other restaurant and in a mere hour and half we are on our way to the next campground after refueling.

Our next campground is much like the other three, no water, but this one has an additional feature no toilet of any sort – except the sort that you dig yourself – a short drop. There are no granite domes here however, just granite mountains and just around the bend is the Brandburg National Park were there are thousand of paintings on the rock. We go over in groups of four and take a guided tour and walk up the dry river bottom for 30 minutes to the first of the painting called "White Lady". It's a misnomer, because the painting of the lady is neither a lady nor white, but that shows you how persistent bad information is. When we return to the campground we arrive just in time for the start of a windstorm that will turn our dry river bed into a brownout of suspended dust. K2 was halfway through her "shower" when the wind piped up and eventually we took refuge in the Land Rover while we had crackers and cheese for dinner.

As usual the morning brings new light and hope to everyday, except this was not something that we were waiting on. In the shade of Jim's truck we were plotting our exit from the Impala Adventure group. Unfortunately, it was more focused on what to do for the last 4 days of the trip rather then the next week and half. It was also that morning the Neil had requested a conference with our group of four trucks at the restaurant in Uis were we tried to have lunch the prior day. Apparently he was feeling unappreciated for his efforts.
 

Show Down

This conference turned out to be a showdown between Neil and our group. We told Neil that we were unhappy with the way the tour was going and that we were having a hard time seeing the value in the $2500 that each truck had put forth. He explained his expenses, Sam and the sweep vehicle. This did not make us feel any better. Sam we could have hired on our own and the sweep vehicle had turned to be a more of a liability then an asset. He countered that our "attitude" was poisoning the feeling of the other two trucks and that he was asking to continue under "Good Grace" or to leave the group. He offered to refund the fee if we left the group. This was a nice offer but few felt that we would ever see any money if we did After Neil left the meeting there was much discussion about what to do. Members would vacillate from one extreme to the other. The singular problem was could we create as good or better experience with no lead time or local resources, like Sam. Eventually over lunch we settled on staying with Neil, though there was great resentment on my part by Neil's "my way or the highway attitude." I felt so strongly about this that when were halfway to the next camp I stopped and asked for a blind vote by vehicle, so people could voice their feelings without group pressure. The vote came out even, two to stay and two to go. If we had voted as individuals we would have left Neil's group I think – but because we had bonded as a group in the prior two week we stayed together.

When we entered the Rhino Camp that afternoon the trucks were lined up in the shade of the trees just feet from each other. Neil's company had of course taken the best camping area, as he had since the start and will do till the end. This was beginning fuel the feeling that this was a vacation for Neil and his support crew financed by us. In good grace we silently took our places, but nobody was happy about the arrangement. The night was long and the closeness of the trucks did nothing for anybody's sleep. The only positive aspect of this campground was the running water and showers for the first time in five camps.

A walk was scheduled for the following morning, but since I had little sleep through the night due to trailer park closeness of our camping, I stayed and nap in. It was little use till the group was ready and gone. Door slam after door slam followed by whispering continued until everyone was ready for the walk. When the final echo of the last door slam subsided a quite and calmness surround the campsite. Perhaps it was the first peace I had had for 12 hours. That is until the Camel Trophy truck starts up its engine and it idled next to ours for half an hour. When the clatter of the diesel engine finally died off, the Camel Trophy couple starts talking in anything but whispers as they broke camp. Tired and disgusted I walk away and find a shady bench to nap.

>From the Rhino camp, where there was no Rhino's we headed north on the first and last road that did not show up on the gas station road map. It was a primitive two wheel track and the most enjoyable driving we have done since Windhoek. We were actually in four-wheel and low-drive! Coming up one particularly challenging hill the Land Cruiser broke a wheel and we performed a tire change at the top. Every other Rover landed it rocker panel on a particular high spot. I avoid this obstacle possibility because that is exactly the kind of driving I did for a week in Moab and Colorado or because I was the last to come up the trail and saw what everyone else was doing wrong. In any case it was enjoyable driving and I wish more of was like this and less like driving down farm roads in Oklahoma. This route took us north through rugged dry country to a little settlement of Twyfelfontain (translated seasonal springs) and the location of hundreds of rock engravings. At Twyfelfontain, Jim reconnoitered a resort that sounded nice but pricey.

Normally we would have ditched the tent and stayed at the resort. However, we passed on this chance for resort comfort and stayed at the campground with the Impala group. The fact that there were showers at this campground was no small consideration. If there were no showers I am sure that we would have defected, grace or no good grace. As a compromise we decided to have dinner there instead, rather then have roasted goat with at the campground. We spent the afternoon in good grace at the campground bar drinking 500ml warmish Tassel beer talking with Sam and the other crew. As dark approached we headed to the resort. Jim's description did not do this place justice. The main lodge was two stories tall with vaulted thatched roofs pushed up against a sandstone wall. In the evening light it was breath taking. Had we seen it personally, I am sure that we would not have left. After few cold gin and tonics on real ice (we have not seen ice for a week) the mood change of the group was palpable, lightened and more at ease then we had been since Windhoek. Dinner was good and even though it was not the best food we had ever had, it was the drama, calmness and serenity of the place that transfixed us. This too is Africa.
 

The Tour Continues

In the morning we had a tour of the rock engravings. At all these tourist stops there are guides that you are required to take. The fees are quite low, couple Namibian dollars (about 25 cents), and we usually tipped about 10 times whatever the fee was. The rock engravings were amazing, there were many and some were quite good. The one that captivated me the most was a large flat horizontal slab of sandstone. It was a map of the location of waterholes. The spatial relationship of holes intrigued me. What distance would they use? Would they use a day's travel or some linier measurement?

>From Twyfelfontain we would travel to Sesfontain where we would have lunch at a converted German Fort that is now a hotel. The town was little more then a few mud huts and block building with tin roofs. I dub it Sesspooltain. Traveling on more dirt roads that would make think you that you were somewhere in Arizona leads us to our campsite in the outskirts of a village. It was a shady spot on a dry riverbed with running water, and honor bar with coldish beer.

At 8:30 in the morning we left with a local guide on a self drive photographic elephant hunt. For the first time since leaving Botswana we are in sight of actual flowing water in a river. It's green and lush in the narrow river valley. We drive down this river bed for several miles crisscrossing the shallow river a dozen times. Playfully we pick up speed and the water cascades all over the truck. We fell like elephants ourselves as we are splashing water over out hot dry Land Rover skin. Our guide pops out of the one the trucks periodically to check where the elephants might be and in half an hour we walking across the riverbed to gain some high ground. In the distance we can see two maybe three elephants. We are glad that we had the Chobe encounter, because as great as seeing two elephants can be, seeing hundreds is better. On the distant ridge there are baboons watching us, and the hillside is scared with the tracks of antelope.

Neil and Sam have forged ahead to Orupembe a small Himba village where we are to visit. The tulip guide is vague about the campground; only states "meet at camp" and gives some GPS coordinates. The drive was a repeat of the day before – dusty wash boarded road cutting through alluvial and gravel pans. A bit of route confusion leads us all down the wrong road for 20 km, until Jim and Nick fire up their respective laptops and overlay our location with computer based maps. We back track to where we think the turn is and happen to meet them coming out of the road to the local community campsite. Neil supposed to use red and white tape to indicate where we were to camp or significant turns in the road. In addition, GPS waypoint for the Orupembe camp was still 60 miles away. No tape was found. Seems as if the tape was pinched by the locals or that is Neil's story and he is sticking to it. However, camp is nice with running water, flush toilets, and straw thatched showers with concrete floors. The sunset is absolutely awesome. The irony is that we have better facilities then the village has.

The next morning rather then admit that he was wrong about the GPS coordinates, or that he did not properly research this track Neil insults us by saying he assumed that putting tape on the sign of the campground was enough information. We start joking about voting ourselves of the island as in the Survivor show. We have put up with what we have because of what we think added value Sam has. So far it has come up short, but tomorrow is payday. We will visit a Himba village and for the price of a bag of mealy meal and some tobacco we get to take pictures.

Sam was rebuffed by the first Himba he approached, but was over concerned. Sam and Neil played up the negotiation aspect to heighten the drama of the situation. They are supposed to meet with the local chief at the police station and begin bargaining in the morning. But it all seems too formalized, the 50lb bag of meal, the 2lbs of tobacco and the nice neat time frame. Of course we won't learn till later in the trip that there are villages with signs posted for visitors to come and take pictures for exchange for small gifts. But we play along, what we choice do we have. Before this happens three Himba women and one child shows up at our campsite. The child has an eye infection and wants assistance. We don't have the education or the drugs, but Sam gives them some eyewash and tells them about how to use it. Vivian and K2 give the women some canned fruit and crackers and they have a little picnic.

At 9am we meet Sam, Neil and the police truck at the police station and they lead us to the first set of Himba people. It's small group, two young women and men and a couple of children. They stand around stiffly in their best dress and I suspect there only dress. The men wear bright color cloths on there head tied at the back like a modern rapper would, or is it the other way around. The women wear only a goatskin multilayer mini-skirt decorated with bits from here and there. Necklaces, belts and other body decoration are caked with ochre colored clay. The women coat themselves with a mixture of ochre clay and goat fat to protect their skin. Their hair is braded in elaborate patterns and held in place with more goat fat and clay. I took out a miniature Polaroid camera took pictures of them and gave them the pictures. Several had never seen themselves, or had poor eyesight as they would hold the picture upside down to look at it. After about 30-minutes of picture taking we would retire to the vehicles and the meal and tobacco would be doled out. This scene was repeated twice more with different groups. Some had more children, some older folks. In all cases they are quite, respectful and not at all resentful at our intrusion. This takes most of morning and we still have many miles to cover and we hit the dusty two-wheeled track road north.

 

Voted of the Island

With one more week to go, do we vote ourselves off the island or do we hang Neil and company? Stay tuned for the last exciting segment.