Blog

July 1st – 10th, 2022

Crossing the border into Namibia felt like a little like victory. Even though our trip is not over yet (we fly home in September) we were, more or less, coming full circle from where we had departed last October. The goal now was to spend some time up in the remote Kunene region, in the very northwest of the country. 

With that in mind we put in a long day to make it to a lovely campsite called Eagle’s Rest, attached to a fancy lodge on the oldest game farm in Namibia. It was immaculate luxury camping and we had the place to ourselves. Antelope grazed in front of camp and we took wonderfully hot showers.

The Khowarib Schlucht

In the morning we pushed on again, stopping in Outjo to provision, fuel and for coffee and pastries from the excellent Outjo bakery. Departing town we made for the Khowarib Schlucht (don’t ask me how to pronounce it). The Khowarib is one of the many seasonal riverbeds in Namibia, usually dry but for occasional periods of flood after rain. 

The Khowarib would be a nice warm up for the main event, the Marienfluss Valley, Hartman’s Valley, and the Hoarusib and Hoanib riverbeds of Kaokoland. We found it miraculous that a day after crossing into Namibia we turned off the tar and after 20 kilometers of sandy gravel tracks we found ourselves driving in a deep sandy riverbed, totally alone in the wilderness.

Following the riverbed towards the sea, we had to air the tires down very low, (1.0, 1.5 bar) and the Cruiser churned down deep sand tracks, the low down torque of the 1HZ engine right at home.The riverbank flanked us with stands of mopane trees, their lung shaped leaves fluttering in a light breeze, and gold grass was fairly thick amongst the bushes and small meadows. This was a contrast to our previous visits to Namibia, where years of drought had left the land parched and nearly devoid of any grass. At that time even the hearty desert dwelling oryx, that can survive without water, were starving to death.

The Khowarib was very scenic and we also started to see a favorite from previous visits, the huge ana trees,faidherbia albida, that grow in these watercourses. They can stand up to 30 meters high, a huge tree resembling an acacia. Frequently giraffe browse on these trees, and the underside of the boughs are trimmed perfectly flat, putting any landscaper to shame.

This area is in one of Namibia’s many conservancies, community based conservation networks that accommodate the local population as well as promoting wildlife and nature conservation. Conservancies are unfenced, for the most part require no permits to enter, but still are home to wildlife. Elephants, giraffe, oryx, springbok, steenbok, leopard, cheetah, lion, hyenas, jackals and more all inhabit these wild lightly managed spaces. This makes it all the more alluring to us.

Jenny drove us through many kilometers of deep sand. With the tires aired down so low and good driving technique we didn’t get stuck and were able to enjoy the surrounds of this wilderness. It was hard to believe I was buying us flakey meat pies at a bakery a few hours ago, one of the great things about Namibia.

Towards evening we found a place on the riverbank for the night, wild camping in the bush. The river might remain dry for years at a time, but it seemed the river must have run in last season’s rains. There was debris piled up against the trunks of all the ana trees and shrubs and small trees swept over sideways still green with leaf.

These debris piles made for ample firewood, and we enjoyed an absolutely wonderful evening in the bush. It was a chilly night and in the morning I even rekindled the coals from last night and we had a decadent morning fire. The day’s goals were not so ambitious and we didn’t have to rush. 

The night before I had noticed that what I dreaded had transpired, the canopy had cracked yet again. It seems the repairs made in Maun did not hold up, which in hindsight is not all that surprising, but I had hoped. 

This put something of a pall over the morning for me as we both mulled the implications. Could we really go into the remote Marienfluss, days from any help, with a cracked canopy? We resolved to continue onward Opuwo, our last provisions and fuel stop, and make the decision there. I was kicking myself for not taking advantage of the time Jenny had been away to find a shop that could have made proper repairs when it would have been less disruptive. Hindsight is 20/20.

For today’s explorations we drove onward in the Khowarib, and ducked south into an area called Klein Serengeti. The continent seems to be inundated with areas named klein and ndogo (small) Serengeti, but this one was actually true to form. It was a stunningly beautiful huge grass plain, with meter high tall golden grass. Springbok moved through the veld in the distance. 

This is just the sort of territory that warrants the grass seed net. Jenny dug the net out and we rigged it over the grill, to keep the cruiser from sucking all the fine seeds into the radiator and overheating. The middelmannetjie, the Afrikaans word for the hump in the middle of rutted two spoor track, was tall grass full of seeds. In most of the parks we visit the tracks are driven enough that all the seeds have already been stripped off and the risk is at a minimum, but this road was clearly rarely driven.

I blithely assured Jenny that the Cruiser was not the sort of vehicle that picked up grass underneath, for this is another risk. Dry grass gets torn off by snagging on the undercarriage, and the grass stuck by the exhaust can catch fire. Many a vehicle has been lost from this simple problem. In the past we have followed the sage advice, to stop and clear the grass from under the car periodically, but in the past we have never found any grass sticking up there, thus my assurances.

After 20 minutes of Klein Serengeti grass passing under the car it seemed prudent to check anyway. As I got out huge crickets sprung out of the grass, clicking unhappily at my intrusion as they went. I peered under the car and found it full of grass. Whoops. Lesson learned. Three times we stopped in less than 20 kilometers to clear out thick heaps of grass from around the exhaust, the differentials and everywhere else. 

After this scenic diversion we re-entered the Schlucht. More ana trees and tall washed out riverbanks. More mopane and scenic tracks. Giraffe tracks were evident in the sand, but we didn’t see any.

Further down the Khowarib river joins the Hoanib riverbed. Just before this confluence the river is flanked with huge dramatic cliffs. Here we stopped in the shade of a huge ana tree for lunch, and I noticed another crack in the canopy. We didn’t admit it at the moment, but this is when I think we both realized that we couldn’t continue into Kaokoland, we needed to divert and get the canopy repaired properly.

Following the Hoanib downriver we found some water in the riverbed. Tracks from previous vehicles were etched in the damp sand so we figured it must be drivable. In other parts of Namibia there is actual quicksand (quicksand, the fears of my youth come alive!), but the relatively fresh tire tracks seemed to indicate that wasn’t a problem here. 

After more dramatic kilometers the riverbed becomes un-drivable and the trail pops out onto a track flanking the river. Originally we were going to camp at the Khowarib Community Campsite or Ongongo Waterfall Campsite, but given our canopy repair needs we pushed on to Camp Aussicht, recommended by many and closer to Opuwo.

Camp Aussicht (“view” in German) is deep in the hills, run by a German who has settled here long ago. It’s sort of an eccentric place and was a nice spot to land and figure out what the heck we were going to do. At the recommendation of one of the staff we settled into campsite No. 4, which has a stunning view to the west and of sunset. 

Abort!

That night we grilled chicken and mushrooms over coals and schemed on our canopy strategy. There was a hint of cell signal here and we were able to draft and email off inquiries to various shops on whether they had time in their shop schedule to make repairs. It was Sunday night, so hopefully they’d see those emails first thing Monday morning.

Jenny was wonderfully upbeat about this turn of events, another chapter in the adventure. I was feeling pretty downtrodden, having failed previous attempts at this, and being painfully aware of how difficult aluminum is to repair. Thank goodness for her good attitude. 

In the morning we sped up to Opuwo to find decent internet and see if we could come up with a plan. In Opuwo we landed at the Kaokoland Cafe, which has wifi. Funny enough this is the same cafe that we landed at in March 2020, when the world was shutting down for covid, to abort our trip and book the very last commercial flight out of Namibia. We’ve taken to calling this the ‘Crisis Cafe’ instead of the Kaokoland Cafe. 

Happily several shops emailed us back. Again we were surprised at how many people are willing to put other work aside to help travelers on the road. After a few phone calls we agreed that Oryx Aluminum was the most promising shop for our job, and they were willing to take us as soon as we could get to their facility in Swakopmund. 

Swakopmund is a long haul from Opuwo though, but in Namibia the only places in the whole country that can repair aluminum properly are Swakopmund and Windhoek. Both of these are a full day’s drive. At this rate it’d cost us as much in fuel to make the repair as it would to pay the shop, but we had no choice. Doing the repair in Swakopmund had another benefit, that I had not been there before (Jenny had visited with a friend) and that it wasn’t so dang cold as Windhoek. Windhoek is at a fairly high elevation and temperatures were barely above freezing at night.

Pushing south we overnighted at the Palmwag Loge & Campsite. It was mostly gravel roads to get here, and all but the last hour or so had been in immaculate condition. Yet even the harsh corrugations of the last kilometers had taken their toll and more cracks had showed up in the canopy. It certainly meant we’d made the right call by aborting.

From Palmwag we made the drive to Swakopmund, and to salvage a bit of adventure we took the road through Skelton Coast National Park. It is free to transit the park and only marginally longer than the other route. 

After signing in at the gate and getting our free transit permit we dropped down in elevation on the lonely road to the coast. At the coast we found an offshore wind blowing hard across a bleak landscape. Sand whipped over bleak flats along the road and it was bitingly cold. The ocean water here is cold due to the Benguela current sweeping water north from the southern ocean. The environment on the Skeleton Coast is inhospitable to say the least.

Driving south we stopped a few times, but it was cold, windy and uninviting. Partway there is a campsite, where we saw a few diehard fishermen camped out, paying a pricey 400 rand pp to be sand blasted and frozen by the cutting wind. No thank you.

I suppose the Skeleton Coast has a certain bleak novelty, but for the life of me I can’t digest why it is on the itinerary of so many two-week self drive vacationers. To us Namibia has many more unique attractions that rank higher if you have limited time.

Swakopmund

To make the repairs would take at least two days, and they had to remove the canopy from the vehicle entirely. Jenny had found an inexpensive little apartment at the Mole Guesthouse, and when we arrived in Swakopmund we promptly checked in and unloaded the entire contents of the vehicle into our temporary abode.

That evening we tried to have a sundowner at the Tiger Reef, famous for its ocean view. Instead we had a beer while our teeth were chattering due to the freezing wind, 20 knots blowing across the tables and chilling us to the bone. Instead we went to The Tug restaurant, a classy-ish place made in the skeleton of an old Tugboat. Without a reservation we managed to get a table in the wheelhouse, very atmospheric. 

In the morning we met Andre, owner of Oryx Aluminum. He took a look at the canopy and was pretty skeptical in the beginning at the possibility of repair, but after we talked through the problem for a while he began to warm to the challenge of helping us complete our trip. We left him the keys and crossed our fingers.

This left us without the cruiser, and therefore we were somewhat at a loss. I’d seen some photos online that one fine activity you can do in Swakopmund is take a scenic flight over the desert. Andre concurred, but said it’s not worth it unless you do the long one all the way to Sossusvlei. It’s not cheap, but we went for it anyway and it didn’t disappoint. 

It’s a six seater aircraft, (a Cessna 210), and they divide the cost among the passengers. Lucky for us they had a flight with two remaining seats, meaning we’d get the cheapest possibly flight, still steep at 4800 NAD ($285 USD). This is very expensive, but other than doing a five day guided drive across the desert, which costs much more, we felt this was the only way to see the Namib.

The flight was 2 hours 10 minutes long, inside the very loud (they gave us quality earplugs), stuffy and hot aircraft in cramped and uncomfortable seats. It was also fantastic. It is hard to imagine any other way to start to comprehend the vast beauty of the desert other than seeing it from the air. 

The pilot flew the standard route, but dropped the plane right to the deck on numerous occasions, and highlights included seeing zebra, vultures on a kill, the unbelievable sea of dunes, shipwrecks and abandoned mining camps being reclaimed by the sand. The dunes dropping into the sea are incredible, as was the perfect left point break with ranks of empty peeling waves that our surfing friends would salivate over. Out here deep in the desert there is just no way to access those waves. 

At the end of the flight we were even even more pumped up about driving across the desert. The Namib, Iona, the Ennedi, the Algerian Sahara. Someday.

Andre from Oryx called us to tell us they had the canopy off and in the shop, we could pick up the cruiser. It looked so naked without the canopy. We took the opportunity to have a service done on the vehicle.

We’d brought the vehicle to Oryx on Wednesday morning, and by Friday afternoon they were done. Andre and the team had gone deep, adding gussets, replacing the whole bottom longitudinal piece that rests on the bed and sistering the corners with reinforcements. It was impressive work and we were optimistic. Andre was not, stressing that this was a temporary repair and that we should plan on getting a new canopy in the future. 

Saturday morning we packed, the Cruiser was whole again. We hit the road, trying yet again to make our way to Kaokoland. It’s too far to make it one day so we drove as far as practical, stopping at the Hobatere Roadside Oasis Campsite just west of Etosha’s Galton Gate. This lovely spot has very great campsites and wildlife that roams free throughout. There are private ablutions, a nice fire pit and a shade thatch roof, all very nice. 

After our failed attempts to reach Kaokoland so far I felt a bit of suspense about finally making it there. We had been before, but this time we’d have more fuel range and better planning to allow for a more thorough exploration. 

A short primer on Kaokoland

The name Kaokoland is now unofficial, a legacy from when Namibia was under South African administration. At that time you needed a permit from the government to enter this remote area. This was abolished in the lead up to Namibia’s independence (1991) and now Kaokoland lies within the official Kunene Region. Opuwo is the only town of significant size in Kaokoland with 5,000+ residents. Elsewhere there are a few villages big enough to have a fuel station and a shop or two, and many smaller villages. 

Kaokoland is the home of the Himba, or Ovahimba people, many of whom still live traditionally, herding livestock and moving seasonally to follow grazing for their animals. Kaokoland was also the lifetime focus of conservation leaders Garth Owen-Smith and his partner, Margaret Jacobsohn. Their determination with the knowledge and support of the indigenous people, helped establish the Namibian Community Conservancy conservation model. This model has been uniquely successful and has been copied in many places around Africa. 

They chronicled their life’s efforts in conservation each in their own book,An Arid Eden: A Personal Account of Conservation in the Kaokoveld (Owen-Smith) andLife is Like a Kudu Horn (Jacobsohn). Even though both books cover the same topic they are very different. Owen-Smith’s book includes a biography of his interesting formative years and is incredibly detailed, I suppose the only complete history of who/when/where/what/how many conservations decisions were made in Namibia. Jacobsohn’s book flows more easily and is a remarkable history of their work in Kaokoland. Both are inspiring and worthwhile stories. 

For us the allure is wild wide open spaces, few people, the Himba living in their traditional way and the vast untrammeled landscapes that are an arid lost world. The remoteness of this region and difficulty traveling here prevent it from being busy, only the determined and well prepared traveler can make it this far. It is not, for example, the same level of difficulty crossing the Sahara, but it is certainly not a place to travel on a whim. There are no shops, no spare parts, no fuel, little water, and few people to help should you have a problem. Kaokoland awaited us. 

In Opuwo we stocked up on provisions, firewood, diesel and water. In Botswana we had headed into the Kalahari full on all stores, the vehicle very heavy, but the roads there are relatively tame and the terrain fairly flat. This time we were fully loaded and we had to drop from Opuwo, roughly 1150m elevation, to the Marienfluss valley floor, roughly 400m elevation, and the roads were rough and steep. Great care would be required until we could transfer some fuel from the jerry cans on the roof rack.

To get to this remote region the approach from the south is easier, however this route is a longer distance. Since our explorations would be limited by fuel range we thought we’d proceed the shorter way, a roughly counterclockwise loop, coming in from the east and departing to the south. 

The most famous approach coming in from the east is the formidable Van Zyl’s Pass, well known among 4×4 enthusiasts for its difficulty. There are certainly more difficult routes in the world, but Van Zyl’s is quite remote, meaning if you do have a problem, the recovery, if even possible, will be arduous and very expensive. In 2020 we drove Van Zyl’s on a loop through the valley, hastened by the outbreak of COVID-19. 

We considered driving it again, since it is shorter and the scenery is stunning. In particular there is a campsite just before the crux of the pass that ranks as one of our all time most scenic spots. On the other hand, Van Zyl’s is “not nothin’,” reaching a 24% grade in sections, we didn’t want to do it just because. On top of this low range 4×4 is required for part of the route, which might offset any fuel savings gained from the shorter distance.

The more tame route is via Etanga, Otijhaa and Onjuva, via Marble Mine Camp. This route is shorter than coming from the south, but still much longer than Van Zyl’s. There was a third way, maybe. I had noticed one report online about an unmapped road into the Marienfluss Valley put in by the Marienfluss Conservancy. I scoured the internet for their contact info and drew a blank, nor was I able to find anyone’s GPX tracks that had passed this way. 

After conferring for a while we decided to try to find this route, and if we couldn’t we would divert to Van Zyl’s and have that spectacular campsite as a consolation. The only clue from the internet directed us to start our search for the new road in the village of Otjithanda, just east of Van Zyl’s. 

As soon as we left Opuwo we were on gravel, making good progress towards Etanga. On the way we stopped for a vehicle broken down on the side of the road. They had a hole in their oil filter and it was screwed on so tight they couldn’t get it off. We couldn’t get it off either, but supplied them with duct tape to make many passes around the filter to staunch the leak. It still leaked, but they topped up the oil and hoped for the best. Before we continued on our way the guy admonished us for stopping to help, that “You can’t trust these guys, it is not safe.” Usually we don’t stop, but we made a judgement call to stop, figuring this would be a terrible place to set up the ruse of a breakdown to rob people; so few cars pass this way thieves wouldn’t have many customers. Not to mention the karmic consequences of not stopping for stranded travelers.

An Unmapped Route Into the Marinefluss

From Etanga the road turns to a narrow dirt track and we started to feel the isolation of Kaokoland. For hours we bumped down the track, following the GPS to Otjithanda. From here the map had a small track looping south of the “main” road, we started our search for the new Conservancy road here.

There were a few false starts, heading down the numerous unmapped dead end tracks that ended at the kraals of some Himba. Then we found a dry riverbed and lots of people gathered on the bank. Already the GPS showed us on white unmapped blankness on the screen, but the topography on the map suggested this might be a promising direction to head. 

A young man came over and happily spoke english, a rarity around here. We asked him if this was the new road to the Marienfluss. He was surprised, “Who told you about this road?”. I responded that I’d read about it on the internet. He said it was indeed the road, but that we would get lost, that the first few kilometers is hard packed sand and the wind had erased the previous tracks. He then offered to guide us across this first part. We accepted and he hopped in the car.

After crossing the dry riverbed we saw that he was right, there was no way we would have been able to proceed without his help. The only indication there was any road at all was that there was a car sized hole in the scrub, but no tire tracks, ruts or any other sign that this was a road. 

Four kilometers in we came to and old dam, a surprisingly large cement installation that he said had been installed to retain water for livestock. Now the dam was dry, its basin full of sand. He directed us to drive across the sand and we immediately got stuck. We lowered our tire pressures two times before we could drive on this soft loose sand, down to 1.0 bar. 

Directing us northwest we found where the tracks lead out of the sand and towards the Marienfluss. He said that from here the track was easily visible and we would not get lost, and that he would walk back from here. We thanked him and gave him an apple and a tip, but to our surprise he refused a bottle of cold water, laughing at us. “Himba do not need water all the time like you do,” he said. 

He also instructed us that if we got lost to just ask someone for directions, though there appeared to be no sign of people anywhere. It was late afternoon and we figured we’d drive until we found a good spot to wild camp in the bush. 

For a while we bumped along this track, sandy and rocky, threading through the bush and loosely following a dry riverbed in a southwesterly direction. We congratulated ourselves on finding the road and a path into the valley that wasn’t as technical as Van Zyl’s. This confidence faded as the road brought us down a particularly steep and rocky ravine. It wasn’t terrible, but it was no walk in the park either. If anything happened we had a sat phone, but it would be difficult to direct someone to the unmapped route. Maybe we should rename the blog to “bitoffmorethanwecanchew.com” 

Thankfully the steep rocky stretch abated and we were able to continue on a scenic bush track, feeling like real explorers on this unmapped route. Eventually we crossed a wide stretch of relatively flat granite and we could see faint evidence of a previous camp site, the road crew or conservancy staff perhaps. Here we made our bush camp, out in the wild environs of the hinterland. The sunset cast a pink and purple glow on the hillside. Around the fire we marveled at the stars and wondered about the remainder of the unmapped track that awaited us on the morrow. 

The Nitty Gritty

Eagle’s Rest is not particularly cheap, 300 NAD pppn, but this gets you an immaculate campsite, hot showers, clean ablutions and an all around professional outfit. Wood can be purchased at reception. We didn’t partake of activities here, but it certainly looked like there were game viewing options. 

Palmwag Lodge has now been taken over by the Gondwana Collection, adding their signature touch of corporate uniformity, exacerbating it’s already business like feel from before. It is, technically, a good campsite with all the amenities. Note that if you are Namibian or SADC citizens you can get a whopping 50% or 40% off, respectively, from camp fees at all their properties, if you buy the Gondwana card, good for five years and only 300 ZAR. 

Outjo – The Outjo bakery seemed excellent. We only got pies, pastries and coffee, but I wished we’d stayed for a meal. The Spar in Outjo is perhaps the best Spar we’ve ever been to, really well stocked.

Opuwo – There are a couple grocery stores here and a Shell fuel station. The farm supply shop at the fuel station has some hardware and odds and ends of camping equipment. Top tip: you can’t buy beer in Opuwo on Sundays. Unless you’re Jenny and are super nice to the owner of the grocery store, but don’t count on it. 

Swakopmund – Is a quirky little town. Again, unless a few particular activities are really what you want to do I would probably give Swakopmund a miss on my next Namibia itinerary, assuming you have limited time. What I did love is that it is a small town, but so small that it doesn’t have all the services one needs to get things done on your car. There are multiple well stocked 4×4/auto shops, obviously aluminum welding, all that sort of thing. Namib Campers in particular had a unique stock of hard to find items like latches and gas struts. Also everyone was very friendly.

Also I found excellent fresh roasted coffee from Slow Town Coffee and we also got two loves of excellent sourdough bread from Cordes & Co, a cafe just up the street from Slow Town. Sourdough bread! What a relief after months of not very interesting bread, and sourdough keeps better. We savored every slice.

I do not recommend the Lighthouse restaurant, we got lousy service and lousy food, but each to their own.

I will detail the new road into the Marienfluss in the next post.