No Fixed Abode: Sand Sculptor

Sat 25 Jun 2016 - Solitaire to Walvis Bay

Last night the Solitaire Desert Farm had been filled with a couple of coach loads of German tourists and at 0500 they noisily had their breakfast and left leaving us to get up much later and breakfast alone. For the first time in a long while we had decent internet so after packing we took the opportunity to catch up with the family on the phone then while Glenn backed up some photos Yvonne chatted to the manager, who had only been in post for three weeks. Yvonne shared her fears of being caught in a sandstorm, which can ravage the coastal area we were heading for, but was told they are not common this time of year and you can tell when they are coming as the temperatures rises dramatically when the winds changes from blowing over the cold sea to the warm desert. Good to know. Now late in the morning we set off along the 250 km drive to Walvis Bay, a former british whaling colony.

The dirt road was initially corrugated and strewn with small rocks, which made the first part of the journey quite uncomfortable but we passed a few ostriches wandering around, a lone black backed jackal walking up the side of the road and a flock (?) of vultures feeding on, presumably, a carcass but we couldn’t quite see over a mound. A short while later we passed a sign indicating the Tropic of Capricorn, we were now in the tropics and the landscape was the same arid semi-desert with distant mountains, those to the east banked with sand at their bases, then we noticed a scar meandering towards us. As we got closer we could see smaller tributary canyons jutting into the plain then suddenly the road dropped down a steep slope and across the dry riverbed of the Guab Canyon. It was nowhere near as large or impressive as the fish river canyon from several day ago but made a welcome photo stop.

After we climbed up the other side the landscape abruptly changed into thousands of small round hills all with a low green covering of some, clearly very hardy, plant. The road travelled for some kilometres winding around and over these mounds making a very pleasant change from the flat, barren desert of the previous days. As we progressed the mounds began to develop sharp toothed summits and slowly morphed into a vast area of jagged rocky ridges that were simultaneously impressive and daunting. Several sharp bends and ridge crests later we once again dropped suddenly into another canyon and crossed the dry river bed of the Kuiseb river that later carves a large canyon, which we did not have time to visit, before meeting the sea just south of Walvis Bay.

As abruptly as it had started the rocky plateau ended and we dropped down a steep hill into the flattest, most featureless desert plain we’ve so far been too. We followed the laser straight dirt road across the seemingly endless desert plain when suddenly a large rocky mound, not unlike Uluru in Australia, came into view. As we got closer we could see a parking area with a small sign stating ‘Vogelfederberg’ so turned off to take a look.

Stepping out of the car we were hit by two things: the scorching midday sun and a strong, warm desert wind. The sand here is very coarse and gritty and as we closed on the mound we could see it had been carve into numerous curves and the entire front edge had an enormous overhang like the crest of breaking wave. As we wandered over the course, sand scoured rock we noticed dozens of the beetles we saw in the Sossusvlei and were able to get some photos before finding a way to the top of the rock and discovering it had a twin a hundred metres behind, though as it was in the lee of the wind it was much smoother. We stayed awhile hanging onto to our hats in the strong wind and gazing at the endless expanse of sand in every direction - we would not want to break down here.

Back at the car we continued our drive and with the road now smooth and with no frame of reference to give the impression of speed we regularly found ourselves driving very fast and needing to slow down but at least we made good progress and before long we could see signs of human activity on the horizon. At first we were joined by a run of power cables then we could see large buildings: Walvis was clearly a big place, well, in Namibian terms.

As we reached the outskirts we passed some small ponds where we saw some of the flamingos for which the town is famous and one of the reasons we had come. We pulled off the road, grabbed our binoculars and camera and watched for a short while as they swung their heads from side to side filtering the water for food but with traffic crashing past it was not an ideal viewpoint so we set off to find the Horus B&B our home for the next three nights.

Passing through suburbs, yes, Walvis is that big, we followed the signs for the town centre stopping at a large supermarket to buy some provisions then we followed the sat nav to a large development on the very edge of the sea front side of town and turned up a street of flashy new ‘ grand designs’ buildings trying to find number 11. The Horus was the shabby looking brick block, next but one form the end and after trying to get a response from the front door one of large group of black youngsters sitting on the first floor balcony shouted down to open the gate and drive round the back.

Complying with these instructions we entered a large courtyard and were greeted by our host, Ruxana Originally from Bucharest in Romania, her husband had been offered a job at the shipyard and they had come over in the mid 90’s. 12 years ago he had been killed in an industrial accident and with no direct family to return to and a son who was, to all intents and purposes, Namibian she had chosen to stay and build the Horus. A typically forceful eastern european woman, she had designed the property herself and project managed its construction, regaling us with tales of how useless the builders were and how they dreaded her arrival on site to be told to correct mistakes. She has been open for a couple of years now and although very spartan inside: plain brick walls, bare concrete floor and polished concrete shower enclosure it all works - maybe we should stop comparing African homes to European ones, they have a different mentality for their different needs.

We spent a long while chatting, both women clearly needing the words, then Yvonne rustled up a curry and we watched England complete their record breaking whitewash in the rugby tests. With another good internet connection Glenn skyped Tom the elder to catch up with all their news about new jobs, wedding plans, house decorating and seeing and hearing Riley, who is now very chatty and engaging with good old Grandad, who left feeling things are looking good for them all.

An unseasonably hot night had us throwing off covers and opening windows, maybe foolishly if the wind picks up the sand.