Bearish Bumbles

The safari that we had booked was for 12 days - travelling through the Dunes area of Namibia (made recently famous by Brangelina) and then back to Windhoek for one night before ripping north through Etosha, into the Okavango Delta and then to the Caprivi Strip, winding up in Livingstone, Zambia.

Knowing that we had a lot of road to cover and a lot of things to do and see, we were still a little surprised by some of the early starts (a couple of them at 4:30am!!). We were traveling with 6 others and 2 guides, and camping most of the way in tents provided.

Day one kicked off with a trip across Namibia through everchanging scenery to the Sesreim Camp. If you are like me, the only impression that you have is that Namibia is desert with big dunes. No-one seems to mention the endless crossing of dry river beds that get so swollen in the rainy season that for 2-3 days, entire villages get flooded. The middle of the country is a dry place with little water but much vegetation, and large geophysical differences. There are mountainous rocks, trees growing in dried-up river beds, and so many different shades of brown and khaki. It is truly like traveling through several different countries just to get to the famous bit. I wish that I had known the massive contrasts of this country before - I would have come here a long long time ago. Sunset over the dunes is glorious - and it is weird to watch a sunset by its effect on the land, rather than the sky. We saw the sun set over a dune, but more dramatic is the way the colours change and fade on the desert to the east. The pinks in the sky are turned scarlet by the sand and slowly the dark blue of the night fades to black as the colour drains from the surrounding mountains.

Day two was a fast wake up and start with a drive into the dunes to see a sunrise. This was our first inkling of the nature of the tour. It would seem that some people don't do mornings. And with Piglet in a fair amount of pain from her back (and starting a cold, would you believe), 6:30 was possibly a little harsh. But it was needed, and well worth the effort. I just wish that we as a group could have gotten our act together a lot faster and made the early mornings easier for us all. It doesn't seem that hard to me that you get everything sorted the night before, and then you just have a sleeping bag to pack in the morning before stripping the tent down. Oh well...

Sunrise cracks like a diamond over the disant mountains. A slog up a steep dune gives a great vantage point and the cold (about 2-3 degrees celsius) is gently warmed as the rays reach out over the desert. Dunes are amazing. The knife edges of sand that is blown constantly are precise and as sharp as the sand is soft. Even the National Geographic photographs don't get anywhere near close to how the real thing is. There is a stark richness to this land. A red beauty that in its harshness softens the soul and moulds you to the land. Sand gets everywhere - in your eyes, your shoes, your pockets and just about every nook and cranny. But it is not an uncomfortable feeling. It is a feeling of one-ness. Of returning. Of the land.

After a fairly hasty breakfast we are off into the deeper dunes. Sossusvlei and Dead Vlei. The vleis are lakes that have evaporated leaving a hard pan of crust behind. Better to drive on whatever hard pan there is than get stuck in the sand. After we extricated 3 successive cars from the sand (including our own), we continued on to the white lakebed that is Dead Vlei. A march over about a kilometer of red sand doesn't really prepare one for the sight of dead black trees trapped in the white pan for half a millenium under the glare of the sun. The trees are petrified. Held there rigid by their long-dead root systems under the cement of salt pan. It is an ethereal, eerie feeling that is broken and made cinematic rather than real by the incongruences of tourists. Would that I had come here alone, parched, crying for moisture. Would that I had Vultures circling my fading body. Would that this was as real in my body as it is in the belly of the dunes. A vague ache in my legs and my eyes hurting from the squint is all that held me close to the agony of this arid place.

That afternoon saw us travel to Sesreim Canyon for another beautiful sunset. Sesreim Canyon has water. Not that you'd want to drink it with the dead birds in it, but it has a puddle that is about 2-3 meters in diameter which doesn't dry up all year round. The water seeps into the rocks and comes out closer to the coast, but here there is a puddle that shows that Namibia and the Namib-Naukluft desert is not just one layer of dryness on top of another. Here there is hope. Here there is moisture and the promise of moisture to come. The Canyon is small. It is not Fish River or the Grand Canyon. It is more the alley between two plateaus that have been softly cleaved by erosion. Hyaena come here. A Vulture has its nest here. It is the gate that ties life and the desert together and hides from the sun those that seek shade. It takes 6 lengths of rope to pull water from this canyon when it is in full flood. But today we can walk through the bed of the river, see the tracks of the animals and climb on dry rocks that have tumbled here from the walls. I have become a tourist. I see the canyon and it is another image for my memory. It takes an effort of will to realise how remote and dangerous this is.

Tonight we camp once more before heading to Walvis Bay and Swakopmund. The moon comes out, along with the jackals, and I again feel part of the universe, and not just an observer. The sky and the sounds of night are real because I hear them through the walls of the tent and I am separated from them. Each scratch is a frisson of fear that keeps me alive as I slip into sleep.

Springbok to Windhoek is 2 days of almost relentless straight road unless you detour onto gravel and dirt. It is of course a very worthwhile sidetrip. After crossing the border (straight forward - just a couple of forms) you are cleared to carry on your 160kph (100mph) scream north. From Springbok we decided that the 120kph limit was what we would drive at - until 5 or 6 cars ripped past us. So we crept up a little. And more cars left us in their rearviews. So we crept up a little more until we were running at 160kph. Not the most comfortable of experience, but no more cars barreling into our rear-end just to overtake at the last minute. After about 15 minutes of this, there was a scream as a BMW left us standing. And I do mean standing - it must have been running at least 120mph or about 200kph. I stayed at a safe 160... (yeah, safe... - something like that).

The border came up quite rapidly at these rates, and we prepared ourselves for the 1hour of waiting about which we had been warned. Not for us. I was accused of murder, but let off (I claimed that the bird committed suicide, and therefore I was not at fault) and we filled in a couple of forms. Travelling into Namibia was great. We finally clambered into "real" Africa.

Just up the road from the border is a road off to the left to a place called "Ai - Ais". It is the Namibian version of Pontins or similar. A holiday camp that really needs some good old-fashioned British Caravans, deck chairs and complaints about the food - you can get Fish and Chips, and all sorts of german sausage, but I was really hoping to meet some Namibian Redcoats, but it was not to be. We paid for a place in the swimming pool and did indeed get to have some relaxation until 3 large spouts spattered us with water. After a sort of hammering massage we got back on the road and ended up at the Canon Lodge in Ai-Ais.

Populated with D&G wearing luxury travellers this was not our scene but the thatched huts and mosquito nets were. The food was awesome and the host very welcoming. We had a couple of beers and some Savanna Light and nipped to bed. The morning was wonderful with great breakfast and good coffee. The fact that someone had had the time and presence of mind to straighten her hair with straightening irons so that she matched her designer shoes and glasses was just a little mind-boggling, but we had to get on the road for a 600km dash to Windhoek.

Not much to say on my part for that - just a lot of driving and some lovely wide open spaces. Namibia is VERY friendly and we like it.

Wow - a lot of mileage (kilometrage just doesn't sound right) and some rather fast speeds. Clan William was a small and delightful town next to a dam. The B&B we were in was run by a nice lady of Germanic/Dutch origins, with a puritanical streak, placing us in a room with only 2 single beds. But she did leave us hot water bottles in covers, so I hugged mine almost all night.

We wondered what we should do in Clan William and the surroundings - knowing that we had to get to Springbok to go to Naries Guets farm, we looked for things that we could do reasonably quickly. Then we found out that there was Rock Art. Yay! Pink Floyd? Tommy? no - the San or Khoisan (I'm not sure of the difference) apparently painted pictures on their meeting places out in the middle of the wilderness. We thought that we'd love to see this, having missed out on Lascau and even on Aboriginal art in Oz. It was fabulous. Some exceptionally large bottomed women are painted, along with an archer or two, several deformed warthogs and cattle (more deformed than deformed rabbit), and a couple of groups of people are represented.

The main reason that we were in Namaqualand was to see the wildflowers. Apparently at this time of year, all through the desert people plant wild flowers. Or rather, the desert bursts forth in colour from the flowers that throughout the rest of the year look as though they are dead (personally I think they are just pinin' for the fjords). A couple at breakfast had however warned us that it wasn't a good display this year, and we should try for something else. Not to be deterred we set off toward Lamberts Bay along a known flower route, after viewing the rock art.

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Ok so Stellenbosch is twee. I mean seriously twee. Full on Cotswold model village twee. For those of you that aren't European, this means that it has "quaint" little "picturesque" buildings and is basically the entirety of the goodlooking bits of Germany (architecture and bierhausen) crammed into about 3 blocks square of fiddly one-way system. Cambridge has a one-way system that sucks you in and never lets you go. Stellebosch has a one-way system that works like osmosis - until you find some random way in, you will be forever on the outside, and vice-versa.

We spent the night at the Wild Mushroom Lodge - a place that was neither Wild, nor a mushroom. In fact the usual accompaniments of such an epithet were almost completely lacking (no mushroom soap, no mushroom shaped lightbulbs and no mushroom wine or duvets!). The place is run by an overly helpful efficient Germanic guy who if you aren't careful will book you in at restaurants for dinner without really giving you the option of choosing for yourself. For all that, the place was very very luxurious. Breakfast was in typical South African style - HUGE and superbly well made - great eggs and some WILD MUSHROOMS! yay!

Stellenbosch is the home to wineries that are renowned the world over. There are a large number of them in and around the area. We went to only 3 - Tokara, Jordan and Delheim. Tokara was Ok. Beautiful place with nice people and a wonderful fire and atmosphere, but the wine's a bit naff really. Jordan was almost exactly the opposite - a long way from everything, a new girl on the wine-counter (knew her stuff really well though) and AWESOME blanc fum?e (of which we bought a bottle - and drank it that night!). Delheim was where we really wanted to go - thanks, Sujata - and that was the best of the lot, neither too hot nor too cold, too hard nor too soft, too big nor too small - or is that something else. Anyway, they have very robust wines that will easily stand up to anything else that we have drunk. We have bought a Pinotage Ros? and a Merlot. We are trying not to drink them, though the temptation is high.

Before you all decide that Tokara was a waste of time, they did have a wonderful chocolate - dark chocolate with pink peppercorns - something that was eaten very quickly. And a recipe that I might try mixed into a pot de cr?me at some point. Onwards and mapwise upwards through Clan William towards Springbok, Nooduitgang (a joke - it's really Vioolsdrif) and Namibia.

YAY! we're here in Africa. Cape Town. Which is not Africa. I mean it IS Africa, but it is so European and cosmopolitan that it seems like we are in Auckland or Sydney still. Very western but with a different flavour.

We are staying at the Daddy Longlegs backpackers which is right in the middle of Cape Town on Long Street. Downstairs is a cool African Music store so we are going to pick up some CDs for the drive up to Windhoek (somone forgot to pack the iTrip - silly Bear). The room that we are staying in is designed and decorated by a local Graffiti artist "Mak1" who is well loved and respected in Cape Town - kind of like Banksy in London and the UK.

The room is very stark and white but I can just figure out where his tag is. Very cool. It's like sleeping in a Graffiti Artists Hospital.

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Yup - Sydney. Talk about a fast spin around the city. Didn't really do much, to be perfectly honest - hung out with Sam and Johno - (the artist formally known as JP) - which was awesome. Had HUG MUGS of hot chocolate at Max Brenner (the bald man) at the Manly Bay end of Sydney harbour.

Frankly the Opera house is Ok, but it's sort of a bit of an anti-climax - It looks nice and all and I can see the appeal and the attraction, but ... meh. I'd rather have hung out at Luna Park (which seems to be a really cool old-fashioned funfair) but we didn't have time.

The one Big thing that I kinda regret getting (due to hunger impaired Piglets and Bears) was some guy's Technodidge music. Seriously. This guy was outside Paddy's Markets (full of tat and cheap americans - you can buy americans for $4 a Kilo!) anyway - there he was playing his didgeridoo into a mic with full on techno beats hammering on behind him. - Sam and Johno - if you see him, buy a CD and post it please! we'll pay...

That was it really - Big Hostel (nice place) and full on Aussie friendliness, but I'd like more time there to discover the city - I got a real feeling that it was 2 places in one - Friendly and happy on the one side and vicious and "Feral" on the other!

I'm flying over the eastern edge of the BFA trying to make head or tails of the last 3-4 days. Nausea, fear, adrenaline, chattin', partying and chillaxin' in equal parts mixed with an otherworldly dreamstate. The Whitsundays are beautiful in their remote accessibility. The white sand squeaks with the unaccustomed pockmarks of unheeding feet treading over it, while eyes stare out to the sea. The sun is gently brutal, leaving you sore and tired - spent. The whole experience can be backpacker raucous and Robinson Crusoe peaceful, and every shade inbetween all at exactly the same time.

Airlie Beach is a small town that thrives on the need of every student and midlife bum to take time out and drop off the grid. The only thing missing is the surf, but you can catch a wave at one end of town on a friday, and with some luck, ride it all the way through to the wee hours. On the other hand, you can gently watch the tide of people surge back and forth from the safety of the restaurant veranda, leaving the strenous stuff to others.

Like most places that have this sort of transient clientele, there's little to do other than party, but the activities out on the water make up for it. Jetskiing gives a buzz that is part horse riding and all rollercoaster. Having your girl's hands on your hips as you power the machine over the waves at up to 60kph, hearing her squeal yelp and laugh behind you is the best of life in a squeeze of the throttle. Control is dubious at best and the unpredictability leaves you with a sense of adventure even at the lowest revs. Definitely one of my favourite moments ever.

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