No Fixed Abode: Toyota Corolla- better than a 4WD

Sat 02 Jul 2016 - Twyfelfontein and the Organ Pipes

We slept poorly last night. It turns out the hotel is across the road from at least one nightclub and the loud music and cheering youngsters continued until well into the early hours to be then followed by a thumping pianist and tuneless singers at the back of the hotel, who carried on until about 0500. It seems that Fri and Sat nights are not good times to visit - can’t wait for tonight then! As a consequence the morning was a maudlin affair and we drifted through breakfast with little chat, but a couple of bowls of cereal each did give us a little energy to start the day.

Although our planned early start was a little later than intended we still got away fairly quickly and travelled along yesterday’s hazardous road past the petrified forest until we came to the turning for today’s adventures. You’d think that as this was an important tourist route to one of Namibia’s two world heritage sites it would be well maintained but the opposite is true. The heavy traffic made the next few km some of the most corrugated we’d travelled along and we bounced along wondering what would be the first part of the car to fall off.

Eventually we reached the car park for Twyfelfontein and were relieved to be stationery. A quick change of shoes and the completion of the, now familiar, questionnaire had us ready for our guide, who announced herself as Mona Lisa (ML) - not sure if that’s how she spells it but that’s how it is spoken. We were joined by a group of three oriental ladies all decked out in long sleeves, gloves, hats and umbrellas to keep the sun off, and we wondered why such sun fearful people would select a tropical African country as their holiday destination.

ML led us along a path and stopped at the remains of a house where an Afrikaner had settled with his family to make his sheep farm - God only knows why he chose here! She reeled off the story in a very bored sounding voice giving nothing to bring it life and we exchanged glances hoping the rest of the tour would be delivered with a little more gusto. It wasn’t. As we reached the first of the sandstone carvings she simply identified the animals in the collage, which actually wasn't required as they could easily be made out.

The carvings themselves are rather fascinating. Unlike the cave paintings we’ve seen at other locations they were monochromic - as they are just carved - and not in sheltered caves but on large slabs of red sandstone exposed to the sun. Some were over 5000 years old but they are still in great condition and ML recited how they would have been created by a shaman either in, or after being in, a state of trance and signified messages from the spirit world. How this can determined as fact we weren’t sure but we accepted everything that was said and went with it.

We tried to engender a little engagement by firing questions at ML (as we are want to do) but we were greeted with simple responses, mainly yes or no, or sometimes a shrug and a “I don’t know”. At one stage the guide/driver who was with the orientals chipped in with some additional information and thereafter we began directing our questions at him, which proved more fruitful. After visiting five other sites we were led back to the reception where, to our delight, was a host of information boards describing bushman culture, the meanings behind some of the carvings and the geology of the region.

We slowly retraced our tracks down the corrugated road then, at the access road, turned towards our other destinations - the Organ Pipes and the burnt mountain. A few km down an even bumpier road brought us to a gate where we were met by a young security guide sitting in a chair in the blazing sun. Whilst completing his form we mentioned how hot he must be and he told us that the authorities keep promising to build a shelter but have yet to do so. Goodness knows what it must be like in the 50 deg of summer.

At the crudely built reception shelter made of wooden sticks we were greeted by a toddler who seemed most keen to get in our car. Yvonne tried her best to discourage him with offers of a hat and help to close the door but in the end had to resort to manhandling him out of the back door, much to his chagrin.

The organ pipes are nestled in a small river valley and are some sort of volcanic intrusion that has cracked and splintered into a plethora of vertical columns. Regretfully there was no further information so we can tell you no more than that but they kept us occupied for 10 mins or so. Another 400m up the road was a large shelf of black rock that did indeed look as if it had been burned. As before there was no information so we can only assume that it is another intrusion of some sort that has been exposed and weathered by erosion. A sign instructed us not to walk on the rock so a drive by in the car was all we mustered and a quick stop for a couple of photos.

When we’d turned off the main road this morning we’d noticed there was a minor road that would return us to Khorixas a different way so we decided to give that a go as it couldn’t be any worse. Oh, but it could! The first km or two was through sand and was relatively smooth and congratulated ourselves on a good choice but thereafter it was km after km of deep corrugations. We felt like we were sitting on a vibro massager as the car skipped and slid about with Glenn making constant steering adjustments to keep us sliding in roughly the right direction. The only good thing about this route was it took us through some spectacular scenery: vast plains with piles of cracked boulders (which we’ve learned are cracked by being heated in the sun then quickly cooled by rain), further plains of evenly spaced short green trees and hills and turns in the road, at one of which we met a speeding coach coming the opposite direction on our side of the road. He either wouldn’t or couldn’t avoid us so Glenn braked hard and we skidded to a halt just as his large back wheel sped past our front wing in a cloud of dust.

A short while later we came to a turn signed to Khorixas. Looking at our free tourist map, which has been our guide all this time, we could see it would rejoin the main road from this morning, which would leave us a last few treacherous km so, as the map showed it was a similar distance to continue straight on and rejoin the other main road, which we knew was smooth, we chose that route. Big mistake. The large corrugations continued, it took us ages to reach the main road and when we did it was another 56km to town. On the main road we passed a 4x4 that was pulled over at the side changing a wheel. We’ve passed a few such cars and marvel out how our little Corolla has proved so robust - where’s a large piece of wood to touch?

Last night’s dinner at the hotel had been very poor so we’d promised ourselves lunch at a different place but as it was approaching 1400 we were now racing to find somewhere still open. Fortunately at the lodge where we stopped we were greeted by a very friendly cook who took our order then disappeared into the kitchen for some time, clearly making everything especially for us. We sat in the shade necking a couple of large cold beers feeling grateful to be free of dirt roads for the next few days - according to the map (?) our journey is now on tarmac.

Back at the iGowzi hotel we made a cuppa and planned the last few days of our trip when we return to South Africa. As we wandered back to our room in the darkness we could hear the clubs starting up again - oh joy!