And so, the morning at Tjonkuvi Otjiruwo slipped away with Eben’s funny and fascinating stories about Ruacana, which he recounted over coffee and vetkoekies at an outside table with the Kunene River flowing below and vervet monkeys scurrying about. By the time I had packed up my tent and backtracked to Ruacana town for fuel it was already early afternoon and probably a bit late to start a 140km road trip into the boondocks. But I reckoned ‘What the hell’, I had food, water and camping gear if time got completely away from me. 

I was soon in for it, with my hands holding the steering wheel as tightly as possible, knuckles white, eyes peeled ahead. The gravel road dipped into stony river washes, crested rocky slopes and crossed sandy river beds, passing Himba homes and children herding their goats. I engaged 4x4 every now and then. This was ‘no time’ to get stuck and ‘no time’ to get my wheels spinning on steep rock surfaces or shale. This was going to be slow going. Two young Ovahimba men flagged me down for a lift. I bartered, a lift for a photograph. They smiled, delighted, and hopped in. When the road split with one section veering to the left. I kept going straight. It soon turned into a narrow track and led to a rocky section that needed to be negotiated at snail pace. I wiped the sweat off my forehead and asked the Himba men: “Are you sure this is the road to Epupa, should I have taken the other road?” With no common language between us, I couldn’t say more. They pointed straight ahead and said “Epupa!” So I kept going, dropping them off when I followed a sign up a hill to the graves of the Dorsland trekkers, those intrepid travellers who returned from Angola to Namibia in the late 1920s, many dying of blackwater fever along the way.  

Time (and that darned clock) was ticking away and I was hardly reaching a speed of 60km/hour with all the dips and rocks and river washes. Now the sinking sun was directly in front of me as I crested steep hills, edged by shimmering blonde grass, and traversed a landscape dotted with small green trees. Himba children ran out with hands outstretched and I recalled the savvy travellers’ ethos of refraining from giving sweets to children as it creates a culture of expectation (never mind being detrimental to teeth etc.). For travellers who want to offer something worthwhile to the community, it is always recommended to meet the principal of a school or the headman of the village to see what is needed and make donations that are beneficial and won’t disrupt the day-day-day lives and harmony of local people (however well-intentioned they may be). I now had to keep my eyes not only on the road but on the children that were running en-masse toward my car. Eventually after four hours and only 110km I arrived at Camp Cornie, a lovely campsite on the banks of the river under the makalani palms. Owner Boeta told me that I was only 30km from Epupa, but that it would take an hour to get there. He also informed me that I had taken the old road that isn’t used or maintained anymore, and had missed the newer and wider road that had recently been graded. I had to laugh and throw in the towel. Time had definitely run away for the day. I had a cold beer, set up my tent, had a steaming hot shower, heated by a donkey-boiler, and listened to the music of the river. A half moon rose in the sky and Scorpio winked at me from between the palms. 

The next morning I took it slow, in my stride, enjoying the beautiful landscape, the mountains speckled with mopane and commiphora trees, the glistening river and the verdant belt of makalani palms. I eased into Epupa and past the house with the sign saying ‘No time’ exactly opposite my beautiful home for the next few days, Gondwana’s Omarunga Epupa-Falls Lodge & Camp. There was no time for regrets and ‘No time to cry’, the initial message that the house proclaimed, which I discovered when I made enquiries. The ‘no’ was partially painted over and ‘to cry’ was completely covered when a neighbour complained. It left the word ‘Time’ standing boldly in the middle. Yes, it was TIME to relish this charming thatch-roofed, canvas-walled camp just up from the thundering falls. I didn’t need to follow my bliss, it was right here. 

Over the next few days, I walked to the falls through the small simple settlement, visited a Himba village with a Kaokoland Himba guide and joined the lodge’s sunset drive to appreciate, from a height, the exquisite view of this small African waterfall where the waters of the Kunene plunge down the rocky walls that are studded with baobabs, edged by the viridian forest of makalanis. A gem of a sight, and the perfect place to raise glasses in thanks and to bless Mama Africa.  

Join me next week on our next adventure as we take the gravel to Opuwo and then, with a short detour to western Etosha, travel over Grootberg Pass to Palmwag.