Etosha National Park

Animal Count: Donkey, impala, kudu, elephant, rhino (white and black), wildebeest (gnu to you), giraffe, zebra, gemsbok, steenbok, springbok, everywhere a bok bok, black-faced impala (rare), elephant (not rare), black-backed jackal, bat-eared fox, warthog, honey badger, lion, cheetah, red haartbeest

The name "Etosha" in local parlance means "Great White Place of Dry Water" which not only tells me the local language is more economical with words but also that it is not really that imaginative.  Because it is just that: a great (meaning big and not necessarily wonderful), white (which has a greenish tinge to it as it stretches beyond the horizen and meets the sky), place (within 20,000 square feet of preserved park), dry (understatement - even my shoes have cracked lips), water (it does look like a big, calm sea, but I wonder if there is ever any water in this flat hard pan of salt earth.

We set up camp near one of the water holes.  It's winter, which means water is scarce so it's an excellent time to park it by one of the natural or man made water holes and watch whatever comes along for a drink or a bath.  Our days we spend bumping along trails (no walking allowed - too dangerous!).  The water holes are even lit at night for our viewing pleasure, so it's a bit like a 24 hour live broadcast of the National Geographic channel.  The animals know we are there, once an elepahnt came very close to the stone seats, looked up at us and flapped its ears while waving its trunk and trumpeting in a very intimidating way.  But everyone sits bone silent, so are considered no real threat. 

There's something ethereal and satisfying about sitting in the open air with about 80 strangers, all of whom remain completely silent, all watching animals big and small as they move in and out of the bush.  There was even a sunset watched in perfect silence one evening when there was nothing at the water hole to watch at all.

But the best times were when there were different animals that displayed their feelings and characteristics perfectly, like children at a paddling pool. 

The hierarchy was clear too - which animals had to defer to which other animals and so on, again like people, but this time adults in a conservative place of business or in academia.  We didn't get to test my theory as we did not see lions or leopards, but elephants were clearly the dominant species.  Other animals either moved to the other side to drink furtively or did not even bother but turned around and returned into the bush.

One evening we saw a black rhino at the hole closest to our camp.  He was just standing there by the water, having the odd sip, but mostly just standing.  The sun set.  The rhino stayed.  And then, an elephant family emerged slowly out of the bushes and moved to the water hole.  There was a baby or two amongst them, and you could just see the rhino prick up its ears and start to salivate. The elephants immediately encircled baby, all facing outward in protection mode.

The rhino snorted, pawed the ground menacingly and moved a bit forward.  One mid-sized elephant moved out from the rest, shook his ears and rose his trunk.  Baby was obviously very keen to see what all the fuss was about, and was constantly being yanked back by trunks and redirected by legs and large bodies.  After awhile, rhino realized that one against a herd is not a good idea, and moved back, not away, but back.  The elephants, who are clearly on the top of the water hole hierarchy, bathed and splashed and pooped and drank.  Actually, elephants are the only animals that seem to drink only clean water, and the largest one moved to one side where water was being fed into the water hole.  They all would have liked to go, but big mama was pretty clear in communicating no one gets to drink there until she is finished.  And that took a long time.  I know elephants have to drink more than 200 litres of water a day, but I got the feeling that the matriarch just liked to press her advantage.  She would fill her trunk, then transfer it to her mouth, and you could hear it rattle down her throat into her belly, like water down a metal downspout.


Just when it was getting a little on the repetitive side, out came 2 more rhinos!  The three immediately banded together, had a bit of a conference and then started to move towards the elephants.  Baby was exposed and just the right size for a rhino dinner.  Again one mid-sized pachyderm (perhaps the same one, I did not check its nametag) moved forward and rattled its sabre (or the elephantine equivalent) but the odds were now tipped.  Rhinos are grey-skinned tanks, solid walls of muscle and horn, and even an elephant is no match for 3 rhinos.  There was a lot of huffing and stamping and growling and thrusts and parries, baby again playing the unseen leading role.

I thought I would be soon seeing a vicous fight and wondered if I really wanted to see such a thing, when the party broke up. Rhinos left in a huff, elephants starting to move in the opposite direction, and big mama again hogging the drinking fountain.  Great show.

Junior Birdsman

The town of Swapkomund in Namibia is fashioning itself as the adventure capital of the country, and aspires to be as extreme and lucrative as Victoria Falls, which is well known for its variety of thrills: bungee jumping off the border bridge, swinging across the gorge, white water rafting just past the falls themselves, etc. etc. We were treated to a video montage of options.  Quad biking on the sand dunes, sandboarding, skydiving - that sort of thing.

Talking together while we were unpacking in our room, I said "This might sound ridiculous but I kind of like the idea of skydiving", never ever expecting to hear Martin say "You won't believe this, but so am I!"  Martin does not like heights, so this was quite a surprise.  But we thought it would be a great way to see the landscape, and it was probably the cheapest option for skydiving we willever find,  Of course I don't recommend choosing your skydiving experience based on what is cheapest.  But this company proudly advertised its 100% safety rate, and I figured they wouldn't want to have to print another poster.

So we booked ourselves to go the following morning.  We got suited up in our fetching jumpsuit (literally a "jumpsuit") and then walked to a small plane.  It's a tandem jump, and we met our diving partner as well as a photographer who jumps with you too.  We were told in passing that this plane had been bought from Iran, and there are still traces of bullet holes on the underside!  I suggested they might want to leave that little factoid out until after everyone has landed safely

The plane has only one seat, for the pilot.  I sit in front of my diver, who clasps me together with a very impressive harness - I feel a bit like a clydesdale.  In front of me is my photographer.  Pressed in beside me is Martin attached to his diver and likewise facing his photographer. We spent the flight chatting and looking out the window at the desert below.  The Atlantic Ocean crashes into the coast here but seems lifeless, as there is no visible sign of life where water hits sand.

When we got to 10,000 feet, the wall beside me slid opened and suddenly I was sitting on the edge, feet dangling in the open air, the cold wind whipping my face.  A rock back and forth or two for momentum and out we went, turning over and clear of the plane. 

My free fall was about 30 seconds and felt pretty wild.  Oddly enough I never got that scary feeling of falling closer to earth.  There is nothing but grey desert below so the eyes move around and can't fix on anything.  It was like being on a fairground ride, with a feeling of joy that kept my mouth open the entire time.  I could see the mountains we had driven through yesterday, and the township with its square boxes of corrugated metal that act as family homes.  We saw the Germanic town of Swapkomund. It was a really great view and so much fun to see it below my plummeting body. 

When our parachute was activated I felt a tug upwards and suddenly it got quiet without the sound of the wind.  The air changed too, from cold to tropical warm.  There was a marine fog along parts of the coast and suddenly it got very cold again as we arrived in that latitude.

Having a curved back had made me nervous about doing this jump, but I was assured that the landing would have no impact at all, just like walking down a step.  I raised my knees as directed and the my diver slow and touch down, and he was right.  It felt like I was taking a step - no more.  Parachute disconnected I found Martin and congratulated him on his successful jump too.  We celebrated with a beer and that was that.  A very good time!

Radio Silence

Wilderness in Southern Africa means no internet connection.  For days and days.  Blogs don't communicate without wifi, so if you are reading this, it means I have found some wifi lurking under the bushes.

Actually wifi is available here and there in the larger towns, but we are travelling between the middle of nowhere and the centre of nothing.  We pull up to a flat piece of sandy road, or grassy field or packed soil, where we either put up a tent or just lay out our mats to sleep under the stars. A fire is laid and Sophie the truck is transformed into a kitchen of sorts.

The few towns we pass through do have an impressive array of technology on offer.  Besides the odd internet cafe (a corrugated box on the side of a road for example) there are bank ATMs.  They don't often work, but they are there.  Solar panels on rooves or stuck on a low post in the yard are a common sight, as are water tanks that connect to the solar panels, and LED lights that store up daily sunshine for evening light.

Everyone seems to have a cell phone, so communicating with friends and family is easy. Without access to electricity in their daily lives, people see phones as necessities, as lifelines and pretty much as a physcial extension to their ear.  Of course without electricity the only way to power up your lifeline is with batteries, and we found entire shop walls full of different sizes and types of batteries. 

There is a lot of competition for the various cellphone companies.  My vote goes to vodaphone, whose orange signs were seen everywhere, even on milage signs in the desert. 

*BTW, if you ever need something to be seen from from a long way off, particularly in a desert, make sure it is coloured orange!

These operators are territorial and charge fees to make calls to another network, but everyone uses a SIM card for each network and then swaps them around as desired.  Of course all the companies offer cheaper calls in the evenings or weekends or to a limited number of phone numbers, and by using different networks at different times of the day people here stay in touch.  Family is all in Africa, and communicating over vast distances has enhanced and strengthened already strong ties. 

Phones are used here for more than just talking.  Other must-have features are radio, camera and a torch. Texting is hugely popular (although painfully slowly typed I've found).  But the real
breakthrough is mobile banking.  This is a huge deal for people who could never get bank accounts. Now they can make transactions, even with small amounts, allowing them to save for the first time and develop a credit history.  Their phones are used to buy food and pay bills.  Bank balances can be checked, and money can be transferred to the account of someone else, maybe hundreds of miles away and dependant on family members sending money. Mobile banking is perfect for societies that have little or no infrastructure, so it is an ideal incubation locale.

Computers have always been too expensive for the majority of Africans, most of whom have never had a home phone line. A cellphone is cheaper to buy, cheaper to run and is always on you.  Our guides are always looking things up whenever they are asked a question they don't know, and will have the answer for us within minutes, such as "What is that bird?" and "How do you make babootie?" and "Is Nelson Mandela still alive?"

My first tropic

I have crossed both several times, but by air.  This is the first time I am actually able to pinpoint the 23.5 degrees south of the equator that defines the Tropic of Capricorn. 

Actually, 23.5 is a generalization, as it is gradually shifting in a northward direction. The Tropic of Capricorn marks the line of latitude south of the equator (there is an identical line north of the equator, the Tropic of Cancer) where the longest day of the year, the December solstice (or June for the Tropic of Cancer), has the Sun directly overhead. 

Wild Horses

You may have noticed in a previous entry Animal count the addition of "the wild horses of Aus".  It sounds a bit like the title of a novel suitable for the average twelve year old horse-mad girl.  But it is even better. 

The small settlement of Aus was a prison camp about 100 years ago for German soldiers caught by the South African military during the war.  Germany lost that war and all its African territories.  But left behind were itsimperial army's cavalry's horses.  At least that's the most popular theory for why there are high-born horses running wild in the desert.  Whether decendants from shipwrecks travelling between Europe and Ausralia or from Baron Captain Hans Heinrich von Wolf's private stud stock, these eqines are without doubt from illustrious heritage.  Despite being a little shaggy around the main, they are beautiful thoroughbreds. 

Slightly smaller than the average race horse, they are lean and muscular. Given that they must cover considerable distances between few water and food sources, they can go for several days without water.  Given that these changes in their species have developed in less than 100 years, they are of particular interest to evolutionary scientists studying changes occuring due to climate change. They have been identified as a uniquely pure genetic population, which is probably due to having emerged from a relatively small number of original horses, no cross-breeding and no real predators to worry about. Our guide said he had never laid eyes on them before, and we saw them twice, so I feel lucky.  Maybe next sighting will be a leopard!

in the Namib part 2

Animal count: nothing

We also explored apart of the Namib that is often photographed for postcards and book covers and travel brochures.  Slithering over the sane in 4 wheel drive vehicles we were dopped off not far from the Dead Vlei and the Hidden Vlei. The word 'vlei' means low, open landscape and it is truly unearthly.

Surrounded by high red sand dunes that had to be clambered up, one descended into what looked like a dried up lakebed.  It was coloured white, and we were told this was the salt that 'washed' down from the sand over the centuries of wind.  It looked like it was calcified mud or clay, but whatever it as it supported several dead trees. These stood in relief with rock hard grey branches twisted up and over and out.  They supported the odd bird (hooded crows and house sparrows and other), but we saw no other wild life.  The whole place looked like a Tim Burton movie set.

It was hot, but oh so dry.  Perhaps in the high 20s or 30s  - in the summer it gets to 65 degrees here.  Hard not to be struck with its unique presence, and we spend time just wandering and photographing, before clambering up and out again.  Our shoes and socks and legs by this time were red with the fine dust of sand.  Good thing we are heading to Swakopmund where we will have a laundry opportunity.

Very, Very Small Towns

Animal count: Gemsbok, springbok, zebra, duiker, cape fox, bat eared fox, black backed jackal, giraffe, aardwolf, barking gecko, agama lizard

Namibia has small towns. Very, very small towns.

Take for example, Seeheim.  We turned off the main road to a smaller and much rougher gravel road that followed a now defunct train line for the short distance to Seemheim, where we were to stop for lunch.  We stopped at a collection of three smallish houses and one very odd hotel, that was built with dark brick in teh style of a small fortress.  That's it.  The entire town of Seeheim. And I know this because there is a sign by the train tracks telling me so:

 


Inside the pub of an unexpected and unique hotel








And then there is Helmeringhausen, which takes longer to say than to see.  It consists of one wide street, on one side with an excellent general store, and a gas station that is really just a pump outside a tiny shack.  A very bored attendant was napping next to the pumps on the street. The other side indicates an ATM but looked like a barn, a museum and a hotel, also built with black bricks with a castle-like tessellated facade.

Helmeringhausen's main street -
that is, its only street

But perhaps our favourite thus far is very aptly named Solitaire.  We pulled up for a toilet stop and to fuel up, and found a tiny place that at least has the grace to acknolwedge its size.

The turnoff from the highway was decorated with old cars rusting decoratively among prickly pear cacti.  There was a gas station, general store, cafe, and two lodges.  whoo-hoo.