I knew Sesriem Canyon was entirely forgettable and when I wrote that previous post I entirely forgot it. 😀

As we said goodbye to the high sand dunes and left the Namib-Naukluft National Park, before returning to Zebra River Lodge for that mesmerizing cold beer, we made a brief detour (4km) to gawp at the Sesriem Canyon. Now, before we’d left for Namibia, I had marked this day as, perhaps, one of my better chances to see some Odonata. My thinking was based on this extract from Explore!’s trip notes for the day:

We’ll also explore the cool passageways of the Sesriem Canyon on foot. The canyon is small but very picturesque – many plants grow in the shade and shelter offered by the canyon, and water pools attract several species of birds and animals.

The mention of water pools did it.

Considering that the rest of northern Namibia is currently enjoying a particularly wet wet season, with water flowing where it doesn’t usually flow and standing where it doesn’t usually stand, it was particularly ironic that Sesriem Canyon proved to be as dry as a buzzard’s crotch; not a drop – NADA, NICHTS, RIEN.

Francine went down into the canyon with some of our number for a wander. I stayed above and shot the breeze with a few others that couldn’t be arsed. It’s just a pile of drab rocks and stone, after all. The only heartbeats involved were ours. Well, and those transported by another similar tour truck. If you look top right in the picture, you’ll just sees one of the heartbeats to give an idea of scale. We were there getting on for an hour.

Now, where’s that beer ..?

Today is the main reason we are in Namibia; this was to be Francine’s highlight of the trip. The mountainous, startlingly orange sand dunes of Sossusvlei in the Namib-Naukluft National Park have been on her bucket list for some time. There was a bit of scare yesterday evening with the fear that rain might fall overnight, making escape from Zebra River Lodge along its difficult dirt track impossible until the water subsided. Recently, the place had been flooded with many plants being washed away. Odd, considering we are close-ish to one of the driest environments on the planet. However, all was well and the game commenced at 0-dark-30. [It would have commenced at 0-dark-15 but driver Tam took a wrong turn down the airstrip. 😀 ]

After an hour of the now familiar African vibro-massage in the pitch black, we were back at the main dirt road and the sky began to lighten. After a couple more turns – there aren’t actually many roads in Namibia – we called in to the enterprisingly positioned fuel station just outside the entrance to the Namib-Naukluft NP. We were now about to be spoiled rotten: whilst all the road leading to and from the park is dirt, once inside the park, the single road taking you into the interior is smooth tarmac. Temporary bliss!

Our first stop was at Dune 45, so-called because it is 45kms from the gate. Dune 45 has been established as the dune for the swarms of grockels to climb, thus stopping damage to the other dunes. A modest car park at its base enabled us top pull of the road and play. This is a good time to point out that, with an (average) annual rainfall of only ~10mm, you have never touched such dry sand. Consequently, climbing a relatively steep-sided dune built of the stuff is quite arduous – one step forward, two steps back, kind of thing. It’s also hot at something over 30°C. Here’s Francine facing the first pitch; there’s another ascent further on. I chose to amuse myself around the base.

We left Dune 45 behind and headed to the end of the tarmac road which stops close to one of the most iconic landscape photography locations in the park, Deadvlei. Deadvlei is a dried up clay pan created after a lake dried up since the “mighty” Tsauchab river was diverted by the encroaching dunes. Left behind are the black skeletons of petrified Camel Thorn trees, still rooted in the white pan, backed by the orange sand dunes and topped with a vivid blue sky. The colour contrasts are mesmerising. The trees don’t rot because there isn’t sufficient moisture, hence the petrification. After a modest 20-minute trudge across the dry sand, we had another 20 minutes to play with the trees and repeat our 20-minute sandy trudge back. Bucket list item ticked, Francine declared herself to be content.

Finally, we transferred into a couple of very bouncy 4x4s to go on a little through the sand to Sossusvlei itself. Sossusvlei is the marsh at the end of the route of the Tsauchab river, falling short of the Atlantic Ocean by about 60kms because of the dunes. After Deadvlei, I must say it was less than scintillating but we did see a Spotted Eagle Owl (Bubo africanus) taking shelter from the midday heat in the branches of one of the trees.

It was time to retrace our morning tracks and return to Zebra River Lodge, where, after a time in the midday heat of the dunes, cold beer was calling loudly. Drinking on the veranda of the lodge requires a beer mat on top of your glass rather than underneath it. The place has a strong population of moths which have developed the taste for both beer and cold white wine.Leave your glass or bottle exposed for a few moments and a moth will be in there. Dinner presents a similar problem but without the beer mat solution. Last evening, I had no fewer than 12 moths all helping themselves to the red wine sauce around my Oryx. Two of the moths managed to turn turtle and kill themselves in it. Maybe that’s the moth equivalent of drowning in a vat of Malmsey?

There seem to be three resident species of Odonata here, but two of them, regrettably, are species that I can see in France and Spain  I did, however, rack up my first encounter with the delightfully coloured Massai Sprite (Pseudagrion massaicum). Stalking these and the countless butterflies entertained me in between filching some of my beer from the moths.

Roast Zebra tonight. It was OK but I still preferred the Kudu.

Having arrived in the capital of Namibia, Windhoek, yesterday, and been met by our tour leader, Louis, we were now rested and ready to begin the tour proper. Inevitably being in a new country, today was likely to be a collection of firsts for us.

Francine and I are 2 of 14 people on Explore!’s 12-day Namib Lodge Safari, which will be a series of 1- & 2-night stops. Our first challenge was to relearn the gentle art of living out a touring travel bag. I amateurishly rearranged the contents of my bag, which was loaded onto our tour truck, and my cargo vest, which was loaded onto me, and prepared for my first Namibian breakfast: eggs, bacon, toast. Nothing new there, then, but at least they understand breakfast which is more than can be said of the Greeks.

I’d had a quick squint at good ol’ Google prior to departure and knew that there might be some interesting habitat just behind our accommodation, the Klein Windhoek Guest House. As departure preparations continued, I checked it out on foot. Sure enough, though the river was mostly dry, the area was alive with my first view of Weaver Bird nests – there are many species – and a striking orangey-red creation which I had no clue about. Our leader, Louis, declared himself to be a bird specialist and told me these were Southern Red Bishops (Euplectes orix). Fabulous and we hadn’t gone anywhere yet. 🙂

We clambered aboard our tour bus/truck and headed south out of Windhoek on a tarmac road which put ours to shame. Refuelling stops can be far apart here so we stopped to fill the truck with diesel, just prior to turning right/west and into relative wilderness. As this was happening, we tourists all trooped off for our first supermarket shopping experience, mostly to buy flagons of water: 5 litres each @ N$31 (~£2). Security guards at the supermarket door checked the contents of your carrier bag to the items on your receipt which, fortunately, we’d kept. Lesson learned.

The social refuelling stop enabled me to check out the insect life at the fuel station, whose walls and plants were a haven for a significant moth collection. To my astonishment, however, several dragonflies cruised back and forth over the forecourt tirelessly. They seemed mainly yellow with a dorsal reddish flush. With their ceaseless flight and confused backgrounds, photos proved utterly impossible. I formed suspicions based on not much at all. Instead, here’s a moth, which I initially thought to be a butterfly, called a Cream Striped Owl (Cyligramma latona).

Shortly after our supply stop, we turned right and, in another 50 metres, the tarmac stopped and the dirt roads began. That would essentially be the last of the tarmac for the next nine days. We experienced our first African vibro-massage.

Our vibro-massage paused for lunch. Driver Tam pulled off the stones that constitute the road and parked on the stones that didn’t, right beside a kopje. The truck carried not only ourselves but also a couple of folding picnic tables and  a supply of elderly canvas picnic chairs. Leader Louis, with a few willing volunteer helpers, set up lunch. Kopjes are a great habitat for various forms of wildlife and a few Namib Rock Agama (Agama planiceps) lizards entertained us for quite a while. [This one is a female.]

Our vibro-massage resumed, ensuring that lunch was well distributed. We’ve discovered that we are here in wet season. Not only that but this year Namibia is having a very wet wet season. Well, it would, wouldn’t it? We’re here, after all. Our continuing journey frequently took us over depressions in the road which were actually fords through occasional river gullies. They now all contained at least some water but would normally be dry.

Eventually we turned off the main dirt road onto a rougher, more minor dirt road, 19kms of which took us 30 minutes to cover. We’d crossed the course of “the mighty” Tsauchab river which last flowed about 1000 years ago. That gully was dry. I must say I was impressed by driver Tam’s care and consideration for his passengers when negotiating these challenging roads. Another turn got us onto a 5km dirt track which took 20 minutes to negotiate and led us to the delightful sight of Zebra River Lodge, which was seething with butterflies and moths. It even had two ponds which were home to some dragonflies. Together with a goodly supply of cold beer, I thought all my Christmases had come at once.

We’ll be at Zebra River Lodge for two nights, serving as our base from which to visit the famed vast sand dunes of Sossusvlei, probably Namibia’s most well known scenery. For now, several cold beers followed by a dinner of Oryx was calling. Chalk up another one for the antelope butcher. 🙂

After dinner, Leader Louis gave us a quick mini-tour of the southern hemisphere night sky with the aid of a laser pointer. The Milky Way is quite staggering down here, stronger than in the northern hemisphere for reasons which are too complex to go into now, and with nothing in the way of light pollution (there were no other buildings for many kilometres), the stars were dazzling.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

We’ve arrived in Windhoek, Namibia. Following our 11-hour South African Airways flight from Heathrow to Johannesburg, basically sleepless, then three hours at Johannesburg and a 90-minute onward flight, also on South African, to Windhoek, we’re feeling somewhat brain-dead.

Our impression of South African Airways was very favourable. The only negative thing about the journey was an horrendous line waiting for a passport check to get through to the transit area at Jo’burg, followed by a slightly more tedious and lengthy queue to get into Namibia. There was hardly any queue when we arrived at Windhoek but then we discovered landing cards to fill in. By the time we’d done that the immigration hall was absolutely heaving. How nice it would have been to hand the cards out while we were flying, but no. However, we are here and it’s rather cloudy. There’s been much more rain than is usual, our leader tells us. One particular river has reached the sea for the first time in seven years. The previous tour got bogged down for five hours and everyone had to get together to push the truck. Well, it IS a safari. What lies in store for us?

Back to London. We had been more organized than I can ever remember prior to departure and had been packing over a period of at least two days. Our hold bags and our carry-on bags, our camera rucksacks, were weighed, were within our rather limited baggage allowance (15kg and 8kg respectively), and ready to go.

I had, however, performed some lens tests to decide finally which two lenses to take. On Sunday morning, prior to departing for Heathrow, I decided to top up my camera battery. Not strictly necessary but it seemed like a good idea; it was actually down to ~50% charge. On our home/spare charger and cable it seemed to be taking a while, so I tried using my packed charger instead. Soon the battery was up to 100%, though it probably would have been, anyway – they’re identical chargers and shouldn’t perform differently. I retrieved the full battery and put it back in my camera.

Taking our time, we loaded our bags and set sail for Heathrow. It was Sunday morning so the jaM25 was passable. We’d pre-booked getting a great rate at the official long term car park and that went well, too. The shuttle bus to the terminals was timely and we were soon dropping off our bags [13.5kg – gold star] and making our way through to the departure lounge.

Francine went checking out the shops, as usual. I sat. I know not why but suddenly a nagging suspicion formed in my head. Premonition, maybe? I unzipped my camera bag. A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My nagging suspicion proved to be nightmarishly justified. I had replaced my camera battery but, forgetting that I had swapped to the previously packed battery charger, rather than replacing the charger in my bag I’d stuffed it back in the camera kit cupboard whence the original one I’d been using had come. In my mind’s eye, I could now see myself doing it all too clearly.

ARGHH! NO!

We’re at Heathrow, about to depart on a 12-day safari in Namibia, both using identical camera batteries and therefore both requiring the same now non-existent charger which had been sitting safely in my camera bag for the last two days. We have two such batteries each. One battery will last about a day. What an utter and complete wombat, and all because I had decided unnecessarily to recharge one battery at home. Clearly, I wasn’t just brain dead as a result of the long journey, I’ve been brain dead for a while. Francine will kill me.

I’M DEAD!

Before I was killed, however, I managed a last dinner of Kudu which was utterly superb. Keep your beef, give me Kudu everytime.