Over the Rugged Serra Cafema to Tchinhungua
Today, with great anticipation, we will drive deep into the heart of Iona. It remained to be seen how far we’d get, but we intended to explore some of the lesser tracks shown on the African Parks map and perhaps make it as far as the Tchinhungua campsite. We took to calling this “T-camp” because we couldn’t pronounce it. Uncertainty lay ahead. I could not find any report of a visit to this area, nor was the road on any GPS map. The track to get there traversed the rugged Serra Cafema mountains that we had stared at from the Namibian side of the Cunene.
In the morning, a young man looking for his livestock stopped by. We exchanged some greetings but were otherwise stymied from communicating, the language barrier being too high. He asked for food, a request we would normally demur. But here we were, camping in his homeland and his space, and we did not want to be the tourists who come in and take over, resulting in resentment from the populace. So we offered a couple of potatoes, and he was very happy with this. Perhaps this is how the begging culture is started, perhaps we are suckers, or maybe he was just hungry.
The air was clear, and the blue skies and happy white clouds made the landscape pop with beauty. The road winds through valleys, skirts mountains and is generally very scenic, passing through a few sparse settlements, but we hardly saw any people.
The track was in good shape, mostly a rocky two spoor track, but not crossing nearly as many ravines and not requiring the frequent use of low range like we had the previous day. Still, it is not a fast route, and why rush? We bounced along and soaked it in.
A little over two hours later, we arrived at the village of Iona. This outpost has long been settled, the seat of the chefe de posto, the local government representative. It’s a village with a couple of dozen buildings spread out on the scenic valley floor. We saw an ambulance, a water point and general trappings of an organized village. There were some power lines here and there, so perhaps there is a generator running at night.
After passing a military barracks at the west end of the village, the road opens into a beautiful valley, with a red sandy track, the valley floor carpeted in golden grass. It is wonderfully scenic. Not far from here is the Mukutu campsite, and judging from the view, it had high potential, but we were focused on trying to reach the river today and wanted to have as much time as possible for any problems, so we pressed on.
At Marker 31, we turned south and headed for the river. We had not yet paid park fees, but we understood from a friend of ours that as long as you paid on the way out this would satisfy the park authorities. I would have preferred to have the permit in hand, but this route also allowed us to cover more ground in the park.
The track is flanked with tall green grass, and along the valley floor were the beginnings of dunes, the Namib desert creeping into the hills. The dunes were covered in rare patches of green, evidence of recent rains. As we made our way south, the tracks stayed near the mountains on the east, and the vista opened up and stretched far and wide to the west. Huge sandy plains sat before us. We were at the same longitude as the Marienfluss Valley in Namibia, which lay just south of the border, and while it was similar in one way, this area has its own impressive character.
Over the Serra Cafema
Eventually we found the marker for the turn, hidden behind grass and wildflowers. The track was very, very faint. As would become a common practice on this trip, we decided to proceed with some trepidation and see how we felt after trying it out. We could always turn back, right?
The faint track was almost covered in tiny purple wildflowers, bright and lovely. Creeping along, the flowers faded away, and the track became a bit clearer, turning rocky as we approached the mountains. The route dove into the mountains with gusto, and soon we were winding back and forth around rocky peaks, crawling through ravines and finding invisible passes through the hills. Down, down, down we went.
Cresting a rise, off camber, with a cliff face on our right and a ravine to our left, we saw an incredible view, Namibia’s Marienfluss valley stretching off into the distance. Steep turns around rocky hairpins encouraged us to keep things nice and slow, so we spent a lot of time in low range on this route, not rushing, just creeping along at a careful and deliberate pace. Twice we lost the track altogether. It just faded away, and we found ourselves completely off road with no obvious way forward. After stopping and casting about a bit on foot, we found the turn we’d missed, and after that, the road was obvious.
There is a stretch that is quite steep, and Jenny spotted me as we crept down slowly. In the back of my mind, I’d wondered what we’d do on these steep sections if we got to a washout. Backing up a steep section would not be easy. At these tricky sections, Jenny scouted ahead to make sure we wouldn’t paint ourselves into a corner we couldn’t get out of. Finally, the land flattened out, and I was able to loosen my grip on the wheel a bit.
The land is parched here, no sign of recent rain, and we picked up speed as the road smoothed out. Across more sandy riverbeds, over more rocks, passed some abandoned huts, and finally, we approached the Cunene River.
The road spills onto the riverbank just opposite the Okahirnogo River Camp that sits on the Namibian shore of the river. It’s an incongruous sight, having just spent days and days driving into the remote hinterland of Angola, with hardly more than the odd mud and stick hut to be seen, and, ta-da! Here was a lovely lodge. Mind you, this lodge is quite remote itself, way up in the very top of Namibia, but to us it seemed like the big city.
We followed the track along the river, through some soft spots that had recently flooded and up onto a rocky plain. Here we could look over and see a handful of simple huts, and we got a startled look from some locals as we waved down from the top of a rocky hill.
The precise GPS coordinates given on the African Park’s map for this campsite seemed a bit oddly placed, on the top of a rocky rise (no road in sight here), exposed to wind and with no access to the river, as well as relatively near this settlement. We backtracked a bit and found a spot just where the road meets the river and settled in.
We spent two glorious nights here. The river was running high, with a waterfall just downriver from us. We made a few hikes and mostly just lazed around and recovered from multiple long days in the car. Being camped by the river gave us easy access to water for cleaning and showers.
During our stay, we saw two trains of people arrive on donkeys. About eight donkeys, each with a rider or two, and piled high with supplies. Others walked ahead, so 15 people in each group. Where were they coming from? Where were they going? They stopped to water the animals and bathe. An hour or so later, they packed up and were on their way east. Perhaps joining the huts we’d seen for the season?
After our rest day by the river, it was time to head off again. This day was to be one of the finest days of driving I’ve ever had. The road back over the Serra Cafema mountains was less intimidating on the return and seemed to pass by easily.
Once leaving the road to Tchinhungua, the track picks its way between the hills and opens up to ever-expanding sand-filled valleys. The rain must have been patchy, as we drove through barren red dunes and over the next crest, the track would be a carpet of flowers, bright yellow, purple and white. The landscape was staggering. The red sandy tracks got deeper, and we crossed huge sandy plains with ridges of dunes that we had to take at pretty good speed to avoid getting bogged down.
In another area, the sand was very deep, and the cruiser was charging up hill after hill of red sand in low-range second gear, when I saw the temperature gauge hit the red. My heart skipped a beat, and I shut the car off. I’d overheated the engine way out here, perhaps as remote as we’d ever been.
Well, if you’re going to get stuck, this was certainly a scenic place to do it. At least there wasn’t steam pouring out from the hood, so we hoped we could just take a break and the engine would cool off. We’d had the grass seed net rigged for the track up from the river, and that was no longer needed now that we were in the dunes. Jenny took it off and found that our grass seed net doesn’t work that well; the radiator still had plenty of seeds in it.
She set to work and cleaned out almost all of the debris. With our fingers crossed and a bit nervous, we started the engine. To our great relief, the needle plummeted back to normal range and we were back in business.
The views continued to astonish as we moved closer to the coast. Fairy circles pockmarked the landscape and hour after hour, we drove through the amazing landscapes of Iona. In the distance we saw a couple of ostrich, shimming black dots in the heat, and the odd springbok.
Picking our way along we saw our first real wildlife, a handful of oryx. They were handsome, but also skittish, and left us in the dust. To our surprise, a few hills later we saw a huge herd of oryx, the biggest we’ve ever seen, over 100 animals. They did not like the looks of us, and took off at pace into the plains.
Our goal for the day was the Cunene campsite, on the banks of the river, about 30 kilometers inland from the Foz do Cunene. Much of the day had been in the blank space on the GPS. Here we were navigating by paper map and the park’s marker system, which was working well. Until it didn’t. The track just vanished in a field of dunes. If there are dunes, there is wind. If there is wind, the tracks will not last long before they are covered. After much jiggery pokery, we found our way back to the real track and continued.
This day of discovery was overwhelming. Deep sand, tall dunes, grand vistas, huge herds of oryx, getting lost. We made the final approach to Cunene camp, which is down a steep dune of gravelly sand. Steep enough that we worried if our somewhat lazy 1HZ engine would get us back up. There were plenty of tire tracks here, so we guessed it was possible, but we also thought that maybe the reason for so many tracks was that it took people a couple of tries to make it. Well, we were committed, so we’d figure it out one way or another.
The approach to camp heads south, down, down, down, the hill with and a tremendous wall of sand looming high on the south bank of the river. Namibia’s Namib dune fields tower over the river, and the effect is very dramatic. What a spot!
Once arriving at camp, there are plenty of places to choose, just find a piece of level ground that suits you and that’s it. The river was rushing by, with towering dunes and a rocky river canyon, complete with palm trees. It is an oasis scene out of Lawrence of Arabia.
The Nitty Gritty
Marker 60 to Tchinhungua: Travel time: 2hrs, distance: 24.8 kms
Average speed from Tchinhungua to Cunene campsite was 15km/h, including stops for lunch, photos, etc.
Be prepared to change tire pressures often. Parts of the park have very deep sand and require low tire pressures, other parts are quite rocky and you can damage your tires if they’re too low.
Water is easily accessible from the river at both Tchinhungua and Cunene campsites, but of course, beware of crocodiles.
Marvellous and inspiring. Great photos.
Thanks Barry! It is quite a place.
You two really are intrepid explorers. Hats off! And an excellent decision to take a drone with you on this trip. The aerial photos emphasis the remoteness, vastness, and the beauty of this region. Love it!