Turning towards Torra Bay and the ocean, along the Huab River valley, I had the veterinary fence on one side and the stony burnt-sienna landscape on the other. It shimmered with welwitschia, the large desert plants whose origins stem way back in time and have befuddled scientists over the years. I stopped for a while to walk among these ancient ones, backed by the flat-topped Etendeka mountains. This beautiful swathe extends to the Springbokwasser Gate, the entrance to the Skeleton Coast National Park and the famed Skeleton Coast.
So named because of the flotsam and jetsam, whale and seal bones that are washed up on its shores, the coastline is a bleak desert expanse, sprinkled with a black magnetite frosting and edged by the icy Atlantic. And as for shipwrecks? Well, unless recent, they break up quickly in the harsh environment. The wreck of the South-West Seal, a 90-ton South African fishing vessel that caught fire and was beached here in 1976, is still visible on the beach before the Ugab Gate. I nearly missed it as the sign had blown down in the wind, leaving ‘WRECK’ painted in white on a small rock on the ground. Brown hyena tracks dotted the sand around it. The tide was coming in fast and the waves washed over the skeleton of the old ship. Wrecks of other kinds are also visible along the 140km route through the park like the remains from the Toscanini mine and the rusty, disintegrating oil rig that rises up from the sand as if from a Mad Max movie set. A chilly wind blew, throwing sand over me and these relics from days long past.
The menacing skull-and-crossbones painted on the Ugab Gate has been a landmark which has characterised this entrance to no-man’s land. I passed through and hopped out to sign in at the office, newly rebuilt, I discovered, since my last visit. And then I was heading southwards on the salt road along the desert coast, entertained by its many signs indicating popular fishing holes: the old Mile signs (initially listing the distance from Swakopmund) and the more creative ones, like Horingbaai (marked with a post with horns), Baklei Gat (someone must have had a huge argument here), Sarah se gat named after an avid fisherwoman, Bennie se rooi lorrie (did Bennie leave his red lorry here?) and a new one I spotted called Snuffels se gat, named after someone’s beloved Jack Russel.
I passed St Nowhere, an apt name for this desolate part of the world, the lichen fields, brown hyena caution signs and Cape Cross, home to the seal colony. Braving the cold wind, I climbed out of the car at the displays of salt clusters along the road, taking a few photos of the salt with the containers left for payment, the prices scrawled next to them in a simple and straightforward honesty system. The road is salt until Henties Bay, kept intact by the moisture-laden coastal air, which sustains all plant and animal life along the coast.
Another recent wreck easily visible before Swakopmund is the fishing trawler, Zeila, which came to grief on 25 August 2008 when its tow-line broke in the early hours. One of the more recent wrecks to decorate the coastline, it has become a favourite nesting place for cormorants. Usually, gemstone sellers surround you here as soon as you climb out of your car, peddling their sparkling gems, but at the late time of day they had already left. A few other visitors had also stopped for a look at Zeila. Large breakers crashed dramatically over the wreck and a frosty wind chased us back to our cars.
As the sun was dipping in the sky, I drove into Swakop, for once out of its mist curtain, glistening in the evening colours. I was happy to be arriving at my delightful home for the next few days. The Delight Hotel is a fresh, innovative hotel with so much heart, soul and good humour that it gives the word ‘hotel’ a new definition. A large mobile made of driftwood and colourful bits hangs in the entrance, creatively balancing the turquoise, white and red colours of the hotel; a photograph-mural of birds covers one of the bedroom walls; boxes of matches inscribed with ‘Baby, DeLight my fire’ are on hand in the bathroom to light the tea-candle; and the unconventional and fun décor give a clear message: Lighten up, don’t take life so seriously. It is DELIGHT-FULL! And we all need to be reminded.
One of The Delight’s bonuses is its delightful breakfast (served until 11am), a spread of delectables that includes champagne and oysters, a good way to start the day on the right footing. And I did just that before venturing out to explore, driving to Walvis Bay between the sand dunes and the sea, making a turn at the small rustic waterfront and pausing to watch the flamingos in the lagoon. The following day I took a trip to the moon, visiting the vista on the outskirts of Swakop which flaunts its desert beauty on large scale. The weather was turning the thermometer on its head in confusion. On the first night, I donned all my winter gear to walk along the jetty at sunset in the chilly wind. At the end, looking out into the vast ocean I noticed a flash of silvery fins in the water. Dolphins! They treated us to an energetic display, leaping in and out of the waves. I had one brief second to think about things, about priorities in life. I had the choice to be behind the lens and take the photos. Or, to be totally present in the moment. I put my camera and phone away and exulted in the raw and exuberant celebration of life.
By the next evening the east wind had picked up and the temperature had risen. Being a weekend everyone was out and about, walking, sitting on the beach, braving the cold sea for a swim and posing for photographs. I watched the sun glide gracefully into the sea from the end of the jetty, the colours floating magically on the water, and gave thanks for my safe passage. I was nearing the end of my journey. I had nearly completed the circle and would be making my way back to Windhoek over the next two days, with a short overnight stop at Spitzkoppe along the way.
Join me next week for the last leg of our journey.