Diamonds, Wild Desert Horses and a Ghost Town
Clutching freshly stamped passports we pass
through the Namibian border post and onto the desert highway. There
is a stop sign implanted in the sand ahead, together with a vague
white line across the dusty road. Police officers are dealing with
another driver, obviously leaving Namibia, and glance in my
direction, so I slow to a halt just past the faint white line. I turn
off the ignition and wait. They wave the other driver on and saunter
over to my car.
Each of the three police officers, two men and
one woman, are wearing dark, cheap imitations, of popular sunglasses.
The female police officer addresses me, sharply, in Afrikaans. I
glance at my wife: the Afrikaans language never was my strong point.
“She wants you to move back,” says Johanna. I glance out
the side windows and then into my rear-view mirror. There is no
traffic. I smile at the ridiculousness of the situation to the police
officer - she doesn’t smile back.
I, resignedly, reverse for about a half a metre
to behind the faint road marking. Finally satisfied she examines my
drivers-license, comments that I need driving lessons and asks where
I am heading.
“If I work on my driving, can you work on
your manners?” I think, whilst answering, curtly, “Lüderitz.”
“Is this your wife and daughter?” she
asks, gesturing towards the passenger seat. I nod meekly.
A male officer asks if we have any alcohol with
us. “Two very warm beers,” I reply. My wife holds up the
beer – one of which is half empty. It seems that even hot and
bothered border cops balk at the idea of warm Black Label. He walks
away. The female officer nods in approval that I may proceed. One of
her male colleagues says “Enjoy your stay sir!” We are
now in Namibia!
I take a left from the B1, the D316, towards
Ai-Ais – it’s going to be dirt roads all the way from now
on. My bored, three year old, daughter reaches for her Christmas
presents, long since opened, and tries to ignore the bumps as my Land
Rover rattles its way down the road.
I stop the car as soon as I see the ostriches. A
good photographic opportunity is not to be missed. Sadly they spook
as I get out of the vehicle and I only manage to get a shot of two of
the birds as they dash across the road. We head on to our
destination.
Ai-Ais is hot; built over a warm underground
river, which surfaces as a hot spring; the heat at times is
overpowering. A sign over the hot spring reads ‘DANGER:
Extremely Hot.’ Like most men I regard a warning sign as merely
another challenge and test the water with my toe. Sixty five degrees
centigrade is far too warm for comfort and I recoil in pain whilst my
wife eyes me with an “I told you so,” look.
As it is situated in the Fish River Canyon
National Park, visiting Ai-Ais requires the payment of park fees.
This together with overpriced, rather shabby, rooms makes it a rather
expensive destination. For the three of us it costs about R1500 in
all for a two night stay in an air-conditioned, self-catering room,
which includes the park fees. Staff, however, are friendly and
helpful, although a little resentful about working on Christmas Day.
Everything a visitor could possibly need is
available in the resort; including a shop, restaurant and a kiosk,
which sells drinks when the restaurant is closed. Visitors need to be
aware that you are effectively a captive audience for the period of
your stay as the nearest town, and amenities, are about 100km away.
We are a little disappointed that there is no Christmas menu on offer
on the big day.
We settle instead for a day trip to Fish River
Canyon. Stretching some 160km down into South Africa to form part of
the Richtersveld National Park, Fish River Canyon is an awesome
sight. We stand and stare down at the almost dry river bed some 550m
below along with other groups of fascinated tourists. I make a mental
note to add hiking the canyon – possible only in winter –
to my ever expanding ‘Things to do before I die’ list. A
90km hike however is not something to be taken lightly as escape
routes are limited; and remember that you will be carrying all your
own camping equipment, food and water for approximately 5 days.
On Boxing Day morning we hit the road again. It
is dirt roads most of the way to Keetmanshoop – but sandy,
rather than the sharp gravel found on Northern Cape dirt roads, and
so easier on the tyres. A 4x4 isn’t really necessary to visit
Namibia but it really does help.
Keetmanshoop is a rather nondescript town lying
on the B1, Namibia’s main, and only, highway: a stop-over town
between Windhoek and the South African border. However it is the
largest town in this part of Namibia and provides an ideal place to
stock up on supplies, re-fuel or perhaps fix a puncture. We stay in a
charming little guesthouse, and the owner makes us feel very much at
home. I ask where I can purchase a beer or two. “They are in
the fridge,” she replies, “Help yourself and just let me
know how many you drink.” Namibians are a very friendly and
relaxed people; well save for a certain policewoman, probably busy
harassing drivers at the border post as we speak.
The following morning it is on to Lüderitz:
approximately 340km from Keetmanshoop along a rare, luxurious, tar
road. There is a petrol station on the way but make sure you fill up
before you go. I’m pleasantly reassured by a jerry-can full of
diesel in the back of my Land Rover. About 125km from Lüderitz is a small town
called Aus. I stop on impulse as all three of us are frazzled from
the heat and the road. Aus is delightful. I mark it on my map as we
will be back; and then we approach our final destination: Lüderitz.
Lüderitz lies on the west coast of Namibia
on the verge of the Namib Desert. It’s an isolated place and
requires some determination to visit. The effort though, I believe,
is worth it. It has a chequered history; founded in 1883,
it began life when land was purchased on behalf of a German, Adolf
Lüderitz, from a local Nama chief. It
remained a small harbour settlement until the discovery of diamonds
nearby in 1909. This resulted in a rush of money-maddened people to
this remote part of the world. Fortunes were made, lost and re-made.
Violence was rife. Lüderitz though expanded considerably.
Diamond mining, in this area, however was not sustainable and
eventually moved further south to Oranjemund. The vast desert to the
south of Lüderitz is still largely a restricted area and there
are regular police road-blocks on the only road into town: so you may
find yourself in big trouble if you were considering doing any
diamond prospecting yourself!
Today however Lüderitz is predominantly a
tourist destination: lodges, hotels, bars and restaurants line the
streets. It still retains a very German feel; both in its colourful
architecture, and in language: many signs or menus, for example, are
printed in English, Afrikaans and German.
Many 4x4 drivers are drawn to Lüderitz to try
out their vehicles on the giant sand-dunes to the north in the
unrestricted areas of the Namib Desert. It should be noted that
driving into the dunes could easily lead into a potentially dangerous
situation. Even with a 4x4 you will need to know how to handle your
vehicle. For the beginner, the peace of mind of travelling in a
convoy with a guide is ideal. There are many adventure tour operators
in Lüderitz but you will obviously need your own, fully
equipped, vehicle.
Leaving Aus we head west on the B4. An Oryx gazes
at curiously at the passing Land Rover from the side of the road. It
stops grazing for a moment, contemplates the car and its three
occupants. “The two larger ones see me,” it thinks “but
not the small one sleeping in the back.”
We soon encounter vast plains of grassland: wild
horse country. A sign, pointing to the right says ‘Garub Wild
Horses’. On advice from a Capetonian friend I follow the sign;
and it soon proves to be a very worthwhile detour.
The feral horses of Garub are a wonderful sight.
We all watch fascinated as several horses, including a stumbling
foal, gallop down to their only water source, provided by the
Namib-Naukluft Park authorities. The horses are
another relict of the diamond rush and German colonialism.
Descendents of escapee miners’ horses they have survived,
through a natural herding disposition, to become a wild herd of about
150 today.
The road to Lüderitz can be a tough one:
‘WIND’, ‘SAND’ warn the road signs. The
grassland soon turns to sand, and dunes appear on the horizon. The
signs aren’t lying. My Land Rover was soon being sandblasted.
“Daddy, I’m scared!” my daughter cries after
awakening. Whilst being buffeted by high winds I slow down to a
snail’s pace. My wife, by now coated in a fine layer of sand,
holds my daughter tightly and eyes me nervously. We pass a town,
barely visible in the sandstorm. “How can anyone live there?”
she asks. I have, for once, no answer. Lüderitz however
provides some protection from the sandstorm and we hurriedly check
into Obelix Guesthouse. As a lifelong Asterix fan I love the name and
have no hesitation about staying at this place. A fleet of 4x4s, with
a few Land Rovers, confirms my suspicion that this is a popular
guesthouse. A walk around Lüderitz proves to be a
frightful ordeal for my family still dressed in our Cape Town summer
clothes. All the locals that own cars remain firmly inside them;
whilst the less fortunate wear sunglasses, hoods and jackets: despite
the heat. Wind and sand howl outside our room as we sleep later that
night.
By the following morning the wind has calmed. On
the recommendation of the owner’s young daughter we decide to
take a day trip to the town of Kolmanskop. This was also a diamond
mining town in the early 20th century, but didn’t
survive long after the diamond rush ended. I finally have an answer
to my wife’s question as to how people could live there: “They
don’t!”
Kolmanskop is a ghost town: completely abandoned.
It is an eerie feeling to wander through the buildings knowing that
this was once a bustling little town but now most of the houses
contain nothing but memories and the ever-shifting sand.
A permist (N$38 per person) is required to visit
Kolmanskop as it is in the restricted diamond mining area; these are
available at the entrance. Guided tours are available or you can
choose, as did we, to wander around yourself. This place should not
be missed if you are in the vicinity.
Most of the buildings are in a sorry state of
disrepair; no doubt due to the regular battering they receive from
sandstorms such as the one we witnessed yesterday. A few buildings
however have been lovingly recreated into museums. Strangely enough
the derelict buildings seem to have more meaning for me; with small
sand-dunes massing on their wooden floors, they offer a poignant
reminder of how harsh life must have been for the miners out here in
the Namib Desert. There is even a bar – sadly no longer in use
– that even has a skittle alley.
We spend the afternoon on Agate Beach. Lying
about 8km out of Lüderitz it is a beautiful, usually deserted,
beach. With huge sand-dunes behind us, staring out at the Atlantic
Ocean, dotted with the islands around Lüderitz, we relax
completely and enjoy a few rapidly warming beers.
The following day we head back to Aus. I’d
read about a rest camp, with cottages, a campsite and hiking trails,
called Klein-Aus Vista. The cottages are fully booked so we decide to
camp for a night. The campsite is perfect. Our plot is at least 200m
from anyone else and it feels as if we are the only ones there. There
is plenty to do here: for example, trips can be arranged to visit the
wild horses or for the more active the hiking trails sound fun. We
opt for a simple braai and a few beers. My daughter is entranced by
the little yellow birds nesting in the tree under which we are
camped. Whenever I turn on the water tap and spill a few drops they
fly down to drink before it drains into the sand.There is a road back to South Africa from Aus that shortens the trip from Lüderitz. It is a 310km dirt road
all the way to the border, with little in the way of stops or fuel.
We decide to take it. The small town of Rosh Pinah provides a,
somewhat boring, refuelling stop if needed. We are soon following the
Orange River – the border with South Africa. I stop to take
photographs of the Richtersveld National Park from across the river.
We pass a small settlement after leaving the
Orange River area. Small wooden huts dot the landscape; many with
grapes lying outside, drying in the sun. There is a vineyard nearby,
which explains a settlement in this remote place. To my delight I see
a bar! My wife sighs as I park outside ‘Fabulous Bar’.
Constructed from a freight container it is unbearably hot inside. The
surly barmaid hands me two warm beers without saying a word. The only
other customer asks me for a lift but I have to decline his plea,
explaining that my daughter is asleep in the back – “No
room, my friend,” I say. He nods.
We finally arrive at Noordowoer and, rather
sadly, cross back into South Africa. Namibia, as always, does not
disappoint. What are you waiting for?
Howard Kinsman 2010