Our foggy damp sleep was brought to an abrupt end by a seal lolling about between the hulls. He was rolling around, scratching himself on the mooring ropes and hanging face down, arse in the air in the manner of Monty Python's French Taunter. He had loud sharp bark.
We took the dinghy into the dock just as the day's tour boats were leaving for the long spit of land that is one arm of the bay, to Pelican Point. There is a flock of pelicans that hang around the waterfront that are pretty indifferent to tourists sticking cameras in the faces. As the boats leave they may follow, floating grandly along behind them and landing on the coach roof and deck right among the day trippers where they are fed by the boats' crews. These are big birds and watching them float in and land was a treat.
We had booked an afternoon tour of the dunes along the coast. The fog burned off by the warm sunshine and five of us, ourselves and a couple of young German women, found ourselves bundled into a Land Rover SUV and getting out of town in hurry, speed limits, Sunday drivers and jay walkers be damned. We skirted a significant salt pan operation;18 large evaporation basins each with an 18 month cycle time produce a continuous stream of salt. We were streaking down the beach, in generally soft sand, at an honest to god 100kmh, that would be about the same speed of our guide's patter; we were clearly in the hands of well practiced raconteur.The coast is pretty wild here. There is no sign of civilisation bar the tracks in the sand. Wild dogs, jackals, hyenas and springbok are common, as are, unexpectedly, ostriches. Seals hauled up on the beach are common, many distressed, many already fodder for the scavengers.
A few miles along, where the beach is overrun by the dunes, we turned inland, climbed the dunes and found ourselves perched on a knife edge a couple of hundred feet above the roaring surf (sorry, no other way to describe it) with a view down the coast and inland of dunes as far as the eye could see. It was just dazzling.
What followed was a high speed, at times a very high speed, romp through the dunes. I was born with a lead foot and I am not easily impressed by cowboys but this was thrilling. Straight down descents of angle-of-repose dune faces (37° that look more like 60°), full bore ascents of the same. Runs along the rim of high bowls with drop offs into them. High speed runs up, around and down the face of the bowls. There were plenty of stops for photographs and time to just BE in the midst of it all, and it was magnificent. Eventually we were dropped off on a high crest to look around while our guides headed off to set up lunch below. We generally travelled with one other vehicle, and there were half a dozen parties out this day. This spot was surreal. To our left a large bowl several hundred feet across and deep. Ahead of us, and off into the far distance stretched a succession of dunes. A couple of hundred feet down to our right a flat valley floor carpeted with vegetation sustained by subsurface water. Embedded into the shoreward dune face was more vegetation that took advantage of the fogs that roll in from the coast. Beetles live here that have developed ridges their shells that serve to gather and deliver dew for them. Lunch was pretty good; wraps, sodas energy bars and so on. The treat was very fresh oysters and champagne. I'm not much of fan of snot on a halfshell, but this was an opportunity far too good to miss. Chilled oysters and very decent champagne served on a sparkling fresh day in the middle of the Namibian desert is a world away from your burger, fries and a Coke.
The patter ranged across stories of the salt pans, the wild life and vegetation the changing geography of the coast that has cut off some of they routes they offer, multi week self drive overland trips to be had, (the bucket list just grew by one), tales of prospectors headed the 250 miles south along the beach on foot and ox cart to Luederitz. Luedieritz marks the northern edge of the coastal diamond deposits. Our guide has a clutch of gps waypoints where he has found the skeletal remains of those who faltered. More stories of mass graves of the miners, now off limits, and the tone deaf turning of skulls into decorations at a fishermans' lodge masquerading as a costal marinelife research station; they were caught by a highly offended government minister and the place was summarily shut down. That diamonds missed by the mechanical screening are still to be found on the beach. He never missed a beat, nor a chance to tweak your naivety.
We had supper at an over the water bar cum restaurant that owed more to Margaritaville than Namibia, a disorientation not helped at all by the local flamingo population. On the wall were a set of signed photographs of a specialised catamaran that set the world speed sailing record here in 2012. 65 knots over 500 yards, 55 knots over a nautical mile all done in a 25 knot wind. Pretty cool huh?
The pictures will have to wait until I get better WiFi, maybe when we get to St Helena.
A few to get you going here
https://www.dropbox.com/sh/q8cxz39ih4fbrfq/AABwKjlGIsA1c6itcKeg1OtKa?dl=0
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