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| Braai & Windhoek Lager - My 2 favourite things |
“Will there be any vegetables?” I asked my friends on the way to a Namibian braai (bar-b-que). “Yes, we have chicken and lamb” they replied. Boy was I glad that a ten-day business trip to Berlin a decade ago abruptly ended my seafood/vegetarian diet phase. I realised at that moment that this trip to Namibia was not going to be an ordinary vacation. Located in southwest Africa, Namibia is a former German colony that was administered by South Africa until independence in 1990. My main mission was to visit Sossusvlei and climb Big Daddy. Before you get the wrong impression let me rephrase. The Sossusvlei area is Namibia’s most popular tourist attraction, hosting the tallest red sand dunes in the world, and standing at 350 metres is the famous dune, Big Daddy.
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| Air Namibia - The National Carrier |
Landing at Hosea Kutako International Airport I was struck by the aridness of the landscape and how developed and European-ised the capital city Windhoek and its people were. It was the Namibian summer, when the mercury regularly crossed 40°C. But the lack of humidity and cool nights made it very bearable. The heat did give me an excuse to grab a Windhoek – the all-natural national beer, brewed in accordance with German purity laws of 1516 for about a century. One sip and I immediately relegated my previous favourite Speights from Dunedin in New Zealand to second place. I was already in love with this country.
After a week in Windhoek and the very
Germanic coastal town of Swakopmund, we set out in a bakkie (a Southern African pickup truck) for the 350 km, 6 hour journey to Sossusvlei, equipped with essential supplies – some Windhoek lager and a few boxes of KFC. I am one of those Trinis who cannot pass up on KFC in any country and have a secret ambition to sample it all 115 countries that Colonel Sanders has a presence and write prize winning book about it. But that’s another tale. The drive on mostly graveled roads took us in and out of the Namib-Naukluft National Park in Namib Desert, considered the world's oldest. It is also Africa’s largest game park, a whopping 50,000 km2 – more than ten times the size of Trinidad.
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| A Stiefel of Beer is a must in Swakopmund |
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| Oryxes Grazing - They are also very yummy |
The Park’s landscape is stunning, traversing through rugged mountain ranges and wide desert gravel plains. After a couple hours on the road chomping on my KFC and washing it down with a Windhoek lager (I was the designated drinker), I spotted a small herd of the majestic Oryx. Found all over Namibia, including on the coat of arms, this large mainly grey-coloured antelope has striking black and white markings on its face and legs, black side stripes on the flanks and a long black tail. It looked so different alive than on my breakfast plate earlier that morning in Swakopmund, and I made a mental note to desist from any further culinary indulgence of this magnificent creature and to stick to my customary wild meat diet – foreign KFC. Unfortunately for these animals, this pledge was short-lived, as I bought some Oryx biltong (dried meat snack akin to jerky) at the solitary gas station on route. Windhoek lager defeats will power – would not be the first or last time on this trip.
On the edge of the Namib Desert I spotted a sign for the Neuras Wine and Wildlife Estate.
I thought the desert and the Windhoek lager were playing tricks on my eyes. But this was no desert mirage and as they had two things dear to my heart and stomach, we decided to stop in – especially as I was also running low on KFC. This little oasis is one of only three wineries in Namibia. The micro climate on the 15,000 hectare farm allows it to produce 3,000 prized bottles per year of the Neuras Shiraz, and the Namib Red, a Shiraz-Merlot blend. After touring the vineyards and the unique cellar – built from sand, stone and wood found in the area - some lunch and wine tasting was in order. After all, I was not climbing Big Daddy till the next day. A couple bottles of red, a vegetable (read chicken) schnitzel, and an hour’s drive later, we arrived at the well camouflaged Little Kulala Lodge - home for the next couple days.
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| Neuras Vineyard - A surprising find in the desert |
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| My New Office - the Complimentary Bar at Little Kulala |
I had heard that it was on the luxurious side, with rates start ranging from US$600 – US$1000 per night and hosting numerous celebrities including Chelsea Clinton on her honeymoon. As we entered the 37,000 hectare private reserve, a herd of antelopes and flock of ostriches moseyed by and were promptly greeted by the welcoming staff with cold towels and equally cold drinks. I am loving this country even more! The design and colour of property blended perfectly with the natural desert environment, with 11 thatched kulalas (meaning “to sleep”) and facilities that take luxury to another level. From its top notch in-room amenities, to its private plunge pool, and the ability to have the bedroom moved to the rooftop so you can sleep under the stars. I initially thought, “what if it rained?” Silly me, it never rains here. Sossusvlei receives less than 63mm of annual rainfall, probably the same amount as one afternoon’s convectional rainfall in the tropics. A night on the rooftop sleeping under the dense starry heavens absolutely convinced me that this place was a proverbial Shangri-la and worth every penny.
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| Springbok Drinking at Watering Hole at the Lodge |
While sipping a couple sundowners on the large semicircular patio, watching springboks drink from the adjacent watering hole, the thought of the arduous trek up Big Daddy the next morning crossed my mind. Hmmm! Maybe I should have an early dinner and call it a night. But there was no luck with this plan, as the managers of Little Kulala were friends with my travelling companion and they insisted on taking us to a buffet dinner at the “nearby” Sossusvlei Lodge. A bumpy hour’s drive later we arrived this other luxurious retreat. The property has a porte-cochère that takes your breath away, with a stunning red façade and walls made from river sand cement bricks, blending perfectly with the giant surrounding sand dunes. The Lodge’s 45 circular rooms are modeled after “fairy circles” – naturally-occurring patches of land up to 5 metres in diameter that are devoid of vegetation and occur throughout the desert plains.
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| The Mother Ship of Wildmeat at Sossusvlei Lodge |
After obligatory shots of Jagermeister (Namibians and South Africans live on the stuff) and a Windhoek lager, it was time to tackle the non-liquid buffet. To my surprise there was an actual vegetable and salad station. But my new friends passed it like a full bus and headed straight for the meats. In keeping with my time-honored “When in Rome” travel principle, I followed suit. There were numerous labeled bowls of seasoned meats to choose from, with a chef waiting to cook selections to your request. And what a selection it was – kudu, springbok, blue wildebeest, oryx, zebra, ostrich, eland, and hartebeest. Did they just make up the names of some of these animals? The bowls of beef fillets, lamb steaks and chicken breasts were neatly tucked away at the back – not very popular and for the vegetarians I guess. I thanked Berlin and my wild meat upbringing in Trinidad, and selected the kudu and eland. Better eat what I don’t know now before finding out what they are. A mantra learnt from my experience with bird’s nest soup at a wedding reception at the Chinese Association in Port of Spain a couple decades ago. But that also is a tale for another time.
We sat down on an enormous al fresco terrace to dine, looking out on a floodlit watering hole, watching a passing procession of oryx, springboks and jackals. Tomorrow’s lunch perhaps? Later as I lay exhausted in my palatial kulala, snuggled under my 1000 Egyptian thread count sheets, I replayed the magical day’s events in my head. What a country! What a place! And I had not even climbed Big Daddy yet.
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| The Famous Dune 45 - Not Challenging Enough for Me |
I awoke at dawn, cursing Berlin, Windhoek lager, Jagermeister, Neuras Wines and myself for the indulgences of the previous day. Feeling slightly better after some strong black coffee and a meaty breakfast, I joined our small group in a 4 x 4 to head out to Sossusvlei. A flat tyre delayed us a bit but allowed me to take in and photograph the remarkable surroundings – the white bleached plains populated with ostrich and oryx, the dark red-rusted towering dunes, and the deep blue wondrous sky devoid of any clouds. On resumption we passed the famed and widely photographed 80-metre high Dune 45, which most people settle on for dune climbing. The driver/tour guide gave me a look in my slightly morose state, as if to say, “Maybe you should settle for this one son – the closest hospital is hundreds of kilometres away.” But as you probably realise, I am not most people and avoided his pleading glances.
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| The Harrowing Trek Up Big Daddy in the Midday Sun |
We arrived at the picnic area at the base of Big Daddy and looked up at its imposing towering crest with some trepidation. My slightly constipated look betrayed my state of mind and my travelling companion retorted, “If you want to be a man at night, you have to be a man at day.” Somehow I knew this wasn’t going to be the last time on this trip I’d be hearing this common Southern African saying. I immediately manned up and decided there was no turning back. Armed with essentials — a cap and large bottles of water instead of my customary Windhoek lagers — I commenced the labourious trek up Big Daddy’s edge. After trudging for about an hour we reached the first plateau. The two fellow trekkers in my group were pooped, and decided they had had enough and were turning back. Parched and totally exhausted I seriously contemplated joining them. Looks like Big Daddy had kicked my butt. Then as if by divine intervention, a solitary, Granny Luces-esque lady leisurely scurried past us and gave me a look as if to say “Calypsonian Michael Baker was right – ah good wukkin old ting better than a young ting.”
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| Amen!!!Finally Summit-ted Big Daddy |
This is just what I needed for a second wind (or was this my third or fourth of the day?). I literally picked myself up, dusted off the sand, and decided to follow this Energizer bunny, even if it killed me. For the next hour I shadowed her footsteps, on sand that was over 5 million years old, with the midday sun blazing down on us. It was grueling, and as was the case during my exploits of running the Kilimanjaro Marathon the previous year, I kept muttering under my breath, “Lord, who send meh?” Two things kept me going though. I was not going to be embarrassed by this obviously fitter pensioner, and a cold Windhoek lager was not far away. I finally made it to Big Daddy’s crest about an hour later. I had earned myself bragging rights. Impulsively I hugged my inspirational trekker. We took pictures of each other and of the awesome dune panoramas. Even more stunning was the view of Dead Vlei below - an enormous white clay pan dotted with dark fossils of 900-year old camelthorn trees – photos of which are synonymous with Namibia’s unique tourism product.
Now came a fun part that I did not expect. While it is a two hour struggle to the top of Big Daddy, it is only a few minutes run down the soft side of the slip face of the dune to get the bottom. I felt like a kid again during my bouncing and exhilarating 5-minute run downwards to Dead Vlei.
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| Deadvlei and its Almost 1000-Year old Trees |
Later on, as I sat in the picnic area catching some deserved shade and trying to correct the imbalance in my Windhoek lager-to-blood ratio, I pinched myself several times. In visiting over 60 countries in my short life, this was by far the most surreal travel experience. I wanted to take this moment in forever and never leave. But alas I had to go. For I still had another week in this remarkable country, where equally amazing experiences were in store for me: petting full grown cheetahs at a conservation camp; hand-feeding ostriches; cruising to a seal colony; eating the meatiest and tastiest oysters in the world; getting photographed with the indigenous Himba people who are prone to exhibitionism; chasing a herd of zebra on a farm; discovering the abundance of small animal life that live in the desert’s sands; and learning how to make boerewors sausages and biltong from scratch. No wonder Brangelina and millions of other visitors have fallen in love with Namibia. For once I thought a Tourist Board had gotten a country’s promotional slogan right. “Namibia – Endless Horizons” is so apt.
