Whether through exhaustion from previous sleepless nights or familiarity with the noise we both managed a good night’s sleep despite the disco beat blaring from the club over the road. Today we had a relatively short journey with a brief excursion planned which meant we were in no tearing hurry to be away for a change.
After all the constant bumps and slides of the last couple of days it was absolute bliss to drive on a tarmac road and we sped along so quietly that we even played some music. After an hour we came to a familiar brown tourist sign indicating the turning for Finger Rock and turned down - another dirt road. So much for the car wash that we’d paid the security guard for last night. In the event the road was pretty smooth and before long we’d entered a broad wooded valley - yes trees; spartan, yes, but not desert - edged with eroded sandstone cliffs and containing several rocky stumps of differing size, not dissimilar to a small scale Monument Valley in the USA.
We drove along the valley floor and passed the Vingerclip (finger rock in Afrikan) Lodge still trying to find the rock itself. When we came to another T junction we saw Finger Rock indicated the way we had just come so turned around and when we got to the lodge, we stopped to ask directions. The security guard told us the rock was in the grounds of the lodge and we would have to pay a small fee, which we duly handed over, then slowly made our way along a bumpy track until we came to a large rock stack, not unlike the Maltese Cross we’d seen in Cederberg a couple of weeks ago. We’d seen this stack from the road but figured the ‘finger’ would be much more slender and, well, finger like, so we were a little disappointed, nevertheless it was still fairly impressive and the setting made for some good photos.
Within 15 mins we were back on our way, keen to return to the lovely tarmac road and soon speeding along it to the crossroads town of Outjo, where we bought plenty of water and refuelled. A little way down the road we pulled over at a picnic spot and sat in the bright sunshine and strong, warm wind to eat our lunch whilst hanging on to wrappings and hats. Another few km and we were at the Etosha Village, our stopover for tonight, just 3km from the main gate to Etosha, the large and famous wildlife park we will be visiting the next four days.
The Village is owned by the same company that owns the lovely Desert Quiver Camp, where we spent two enjoyable days in the Namib desert, so our hopes were high. We were not disappointed. Greeted with a couple of tasty fruit juice drinks we were handed our keys and a small map of the village and directed to our cabin, which was of a similar high standard to the Quiver - smiles all round from Yvonne. Unable to find a kettle we wandered back to the tea station at reception and noticed a small bar with a TV showing sports. Within minutes Yvonne had befriended the barman and was sitting back in the sun, enjoying a cuppa and watching Wimbledon - even bigger smiles.
The included dinner was a grand buffet affair with a choice of game steaks that you picked and told the chef how you wanted them grilled, which he did in front of you. We finally got to try some Zebra but, to be honest, there is not a lot of difference between all the game meats. Full, as only one can be after a buffet, we turned in early ready for a sunrise start tomorrow.
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| Namibia's version of Monument Valley |
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| Finger Rock |
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| The tree lined valley floor |
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| I wonder if this guy is on Uber? |
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| Our bush chalet |
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