Section 01. North West Namibia

Day 018. 27 May. Kombat to Grootfontein. 55 km. 4.5 hours. 240m up. 350m down. I had breakfast at 0700 and was off at 0800. Initially I had about 16 km of the main road to go along. The idea of it was worse than actually cycling it and there were lorries every 5 minutes and cars more frequently. However as traffic increases on this road over the next decade or two it will be a more difficult proposition unless the verge is widened. What really struck me when I left Kombat was just how green it was. There were some large fields with maize and a huge verdant lush pasture which could have been in Ireland. Everything was irrigated by a huge tracked machine which went round in a vast circle some 300 metres in diameter. The main farm here was Nehlen and I was curious where it got its water for irrigation. It either had a lucky aquifer from the surrounding hills or a bore hole.

After about 10 km I passed a couple of watering ponds on a farm. They were formed by making earthen banks across the valley floor so they acted as dams. The first had nothing but the second had a large group of baboons at it. As I passed it another group of baboons crossed the road. There always seemed to be a couple of guards on each side of the road who kept a look out while the others sauntered over without a care. As I approached the procession stopped and the guards withdrew into the bush on each side. When I passed there was a loud roar nearby which I can only imagine was a large male baboon warning me. I got to the top of the rise and then had a fast run down the east side to the turnoff I was to take on the smaller gravel road heading north on the D 2860.

As soon as I was on the gravel road I could drop my guard and relax. It climbed up through a shallow pass in the hills on each side into thicker bush. I saw a small terrapin on the road here about 15 cm long. Its plain shell was well scraped at the back possibility where predators had gnawed it trying to get in. I placed it in the bush as its shell would give little protection against the tyre of a Toyota hilux pickup. From the top of this pass, a chink in the ridge which went east-west, there was thick bush which covered the craggy hillside. There was a lot of green grass beside the road almost as if this higher area gets more rain than the lower lands. I stopped here for a while to listen to the bush which was alive with birdsong. I was starting to recognize some of the sounds, especially of the many dove species. There were also various hornbills and the lourie bird here. The road was firm and smooth with a dusting of loose gravel on top and it was very slightly downhill.

After 5 or so kilometres it passed a large maize field and veered east keeping above the valley to the north. I could look out over this wide extensive flat valley and see it was great farmland with huge fields of maize across the valley floor. This too seemed like a hidden fertile Shangri la. My route continued to follow this gravel road as it gently descended down to the valley. As I dropped down I found myself cycling along large fences beyond which were maize. If a herd of elephants came across this they would have a feast. One of the fields was being harvested as I went by. I could see no irrigation at all here so the maize must have thrived in the recently finished wet season and was now ripening in the sun. Again all the farms here had German or Afrikaans names and looking at the main farm houses you could see they had been thriving on this prime land for 3-5 generations.

About half way down the D2860 gravel road I reached a turn off for the Hoba Meteorite. It was a large meteorite of some 30 tonnes, largely composed of iron, which had slammed into the earth some 80,000 years ago. It would have caused some local devastation. It was a 18 kilometre detour altogether and I decided to skip visiting it and continued down the flat gravel road I was on. The maize fields were more sporadic now and the bush and savannah was more dominant on each side of the road. Frequently there were clearer grass areas with grazing cattle. It was a flat easy cycle with just one sandy stretch and before I knew it I hit the B8 tarmac road which I had to follow for 5 km to reach Grootfontein. It was a quick cycle on the flat tarmac and 15 minutes later I was on the outskirts of the large town, which was something of a regional capital.

There were plenty of middle class houses on the way in with nicer gardens and children playing behind the gates. Everyone I saw here was black. After 5-6 blocks of this I reached the town centre and it seemed much scruffier. There were bottle shops, selling alcohol, and betting shops along here, amongst the more genteel furniture, hardware and clothing shops. I knew Namibia had a drink problem, especially amongst the local population but I had never seen such a plethora of betting shops in Namibia before. After a few blocks of cycling through the centre of town I took a street north for a few blocks to reach a guest house called HH 820. It was run by Herman in his family’s old home which was almost 100 years old. He opened the gates and I stepped into a haven of tranquility and a colourful garden. The house itself was lovely and full of a century’s worth of fine furniture and characterful artifacts. Herman had opened this guesthouse when he retired after nearly half a century of guiding tourists across Africa so I knew I was in the right place to pick his brains on my future plans. That evening all the guests, 5 of us in all, and Herman sat around the old table in the dining room and ate homemade Babootie. It was a delicious meal in great company. We chatted for a few hours with two of the guests, a New Zealand couple, also having worked in the safari business in many of the places Herman had worked also across Southern Africa and East Africa.

Grootfontein was really the end of my first section which I called NW Namibia. It had been quite gentle and comfortable with frequent accommodation. In fact I had only used my tent twice in the entire 18 days. It was a gentle introduction to my cycle expedition across Africa. However the next section, NE Namibia and NW Botswana are likely to see me spend many more nights in the tent as they are more remote and sparsely populated. I am sure I will look back in a few months and see this was the easiest and most comfortable section. The one issue I have with this section was that virtually all my interactions were with the white population. Except for Udi at Kalkfeld, and my stay at Karibib and Kombat I was always in white society. I suppose I gravitated towards it as I was familiar with it but I had wanted to see more of Africa as experienced by the majority of the population, but I suppose that will come more in Zambia, Malawi and Tanzania.

Day 017. 26 May. Otavi to Kombat. 41 km. 4.5 hours. 250m up. 60m down. I was up at 0730 for a great breakfast at the Palmenecke. However, I could not wait to get out of Otavi. When I told the guesthouse owner my plans she came up with many more suggestions which, though helpful, were also confusing. I stuck to my original plan and headed out on the main road towards central Southern Africa, the B8. I was a little wary of it but it turned out to be similar to the road between Karibib and Kalkfeld with lorries every 5 minutes. I only had to do 7 km on the road before my turnoff onto the small gravel D2820 road. The 7 km went by in a flash and the main road was relatively quiet as I cycled towards a sharp ridge. At the west end of the ridge was my junction with the gravel road. The main road went on the north side of the ridge while I would go on the south side and after 35 km they both met again at Kombat.

On turning off at the junction I entered a whole new world, which was quiet and relaxed. I no longer had to look in my mirror and could cycle in the middle of the road. It was a great surface of packed gravel initially. I went past quite a few farms. Most had German names, both the farm and the current owner. One called Eisenbach on the northside of the road looked very professional and the farmhouse looked idyllic with plenty of bougainvillea trees. I saw a few warthog scurry into the undergrowth but was too slow to photograph them.

The verges on each side of the road had been cut for grass, perhaps also as a fire barrier as the scrub and farmland on each side was about 100 metres apart now. There were still a few of the large iconic umbrella thorn trees on the verge and in the pastures beyond. As I cycled the ridge to the north became higher and sharper and there was a ridge forming to the south also. I was cycling into a valley, a beautiful hidden valley almost like a Shangri La. The road was quite level but the gravel soon gave way to packed red earth. It was also easy to cycle on and I was very content cruising along here looking at the thriving farms.

Before long I met an Afrikarner walking his two large Rottwieler dogs. I slowed down to chat and soon the dogs were lying at our feet while we discussed my trip. Arno was also in his 60s and was a retired guide from this area and towards the east. I picked his brains and he was extremely encouraging and informative about the route east to Tsumkwe and Botswana. He said it was no problem but I should carry 10 litres of water, which I had capacity for on the bike. He told me also that as I progressed along the road today I should see plenty of game.

Initially I did not see any game but the farms became more and more lush with large fields full of the golden brown ripened grass with their seed heads gently swaying in the breeze. There were a lot of cattle here grazing in the knee deep grass. However there were also a few fields which looked like they had been harvested for hay and new grass was coming through giving the fields a green hue – something I had not seen before in Namibia. A little further there were large fields of sunflowers on the northside of the road. The valley was really turning into the Garden of Eden. I am not sure if there was water in the hills on each side of the valley and this aquifer was keeping the land wetter so there was a greenish hue to it.

After some very pleasant 15 kilometres on this delightful quiet road I reached a gate. I passed through and after a kilometre saw a watering hole on the valley floor some 500 metres away. I looked through my camera and could see there was a family of warthogs there and also a large herd of Oryx with perhaps 100 animals in it including many young. It far exceeded any game sighting I had seen so far this trip and I was enthralled by it. I stood here watching them for a good half hour taking pictures. As I cycled on I noticed a few more game in the extensive grassland between the road I was on and the valley floor.

Some 3-4 kilometres after the gate I reached the farm of Omatjete, where they also did safaris. I think this farm was primarily a beef cattle enterprise as they had some 5-6 pedigree Brahman Bulls near the barn and large sheds full of hay. However, like Gert Coetzee on Uib farm a couple of days ago, the farm also had a lot of game and I am sure the Oryx I had just seen was part of this. Just beyond the farmhouse heading west I saw many more warthog on 4-5 occasions. I also saw a large Kudu near the road, its long horns spiralling up to make a formidable defence weapon. I also saw pairs of impalas on a couple of occasions, then a large herd of female impala with about 50 in the herd. Finally I saw baboons near this large herd of impala.

By the time I had cycled the 15 odd kilometres of this game area, which I think comprised a few farms, I was totally elated. This had so far been the best day for wildlife spotting by far. The cattle, mostly Brahman, were also plentiful throughout the whole game area. As I cycled a couple of tractors came towards me with trailers of hay and I soon reached the fields from where they were being cut. Perhaps it was different farms but all controlled by the Eggerts family on Omarjete farm. Eventually I reached the gate at the far end and saw there was a sign that the area I had just passed through was Ngaragombe Conservancy. They seemed to have mixed farming and game conservancy really well.

After the gate I passed a large area of maize which was grown in about 3 fields. It looked like a well organized commercial venture. However a bit further, just some 4 km from Kombat I passed a cluster of local farms. There were perhaps 10-15 homesteads all clustered together and families milling about the yards. The houses were quite ramshackle and were it not for the occasional cow amongst the houses it could have been a township. I don’t know if this was redistributed land or squatted land or perhaps a mix of the two. A little beyond I met the B8 tarmac road to central Southern Africa again and my beautiful jaunt along the D2820 gravel and red earth road was over.

The B8 was not as bad as I feared traffic wise and it was just a quick kilometre down it to a side road and then doubling back again to reach the Kombat Lodge Inn. It had seen its better days and was now under local ownership. The small pool was half empty and dirty and everything looked tired. However it had masses of charm still and I found the place very welcoming. The manageress, Raum, spoke some English and was very helpful and kind. There were two male maintenance workers and another girl working here and that was it. There were perhaps 6 bedrooms and a huge characterful bar with an enormous braai fireplace area. Everything was under a thatched roof with large rafters so it had the appearance of a medieval barn. The bedrooms were simple, good and cheap and there was plenty of hot water. It is a shame the complex is a bit wasted but it is a convoluted route to get here from the main road for passing traffic. Raum cooked me the only thing left on the menu which was steak, chips and veg. It was by far the toughest steak I have ever had and virtually inedible. I was the only guest and the whole place seemed wasted on me alone.

Day 016. 25 May. Otavi Rest Day. 0km. hours. 0m up. 0m down. I was tired in the morning when I got up at 0700. I knew I was going to have a rest day. I needed it but did not really want to take one as I would be having at least one, maybe two, rest days in Grootfontein in a couple of days time. However I also needed to write and just have a bit of time to relax. I sat at the table on the porch of my little garden unit and typed away and looked at the map and books occasionally.

It was a very peaceful day in the garden and I felt no compulsion to leave and go and investigate the town of Otavi. It was too big to be friendly and intimate, and too small to be interesting. So I stayed in the garden and only ventured out in the evening to go back to the Camel Inn and Pub where I ate last night, also this was the place which had great music.

Day 015. 24 May. Uib Farm to Otavi. 68 km. 6 hours. 170m up. 170m down. Gert made me a great breakfast with eggs and his own homemade boer sausages and also his own avocado from the trees outside. We then sat on the verandah in the cool of the early morning looking across the lawn, beyond which was the fence and then the grassland of the farm. He showed me his hunting room where the skins and trophies of three generations of living off the land were displayed. After the coffee Gert had to go and attend to a herd of Elephants that were on the neighbouring farm and were heading towards his farm having broken out of Ongave Private Game Reserve earlier in the week. While many people in Europe were starting their working day dealing with a council regulation or a clause in a contract Gert had to contend with wild elephants trampling his fences and destroying his water tanks. Yes Gert was not just like a character from a Hemingway novel but the role model on which he based his books. I eventually left at 0900 extremely grateful for the genuine Afrikarner hospitality he had shown me.

As I left the drive there were two impalas nearby, one with its longer spiral horns stuck in the fence. It soon broke free and ran off in great bounds. Although the gravel road was flat there was a strong headwind and it made me work. Even on the very gentle downhill section initially I had to pedal hard. My legs were tired from yesterday and I was wary about injury especially in my right knee where my ligaments seemed to be straining.

As I went further east the gravel road began to climb until it reached a short sharp pass making me go all the way down to first gear. On the other side however there was a fast descent as I freewheeled down for at least a kilometer until the road straightened up and levelled off. So much so I don’t think it turned a corner or varied more that 10 meters each side of 1400 metres altitude for 30 kilometres. The wind had dropped now so the going was easier. I could see the dust clouds from oncoming traffic some 10 minutes or 10 kilometres away and then the headlights 5 minutes away. The trees here were now getting bigger and more savannah like with their flat crowns. One I recognized was the Umbrella thorn tree. If I looked closely virtually every tree had vicious thorns. As I neared Otavi I saw another family of mongoose on the road. I took a photo of them from 200 metres away as I was sure they would flee if I got any closer. I have noticed animals are far more wary of a bicycle at 10 km per hour than a car at 120 km per hour.

Half an hour after this I was approaching the outskirts of Otavi and a large industrial plant called Namib Mills, which manufactured foodstuffs. There was also a railway station here but it was seldom used and purely freight. I cycled on into the centre of town but never really met it. There was no charming main street like Usakos, Omaruru or Outjo with older houses, but rather a small grid of wide dusty streets with perfunctory buildings. However there was one corner I was looking for and that was the Palmenecke Guest House. I found it easily on account of the tall palms and leafy plot. It stood out like an oasis in the desert. I took a room for one night but then decided that I was quite tired, especially my legs and I had to catch up on the blog so opted for 2 nights. The garden was a peaceful haven full of plants, cactus, succulents and water features. It had the main house, which unusually was 2 stories and then some rooms in the garden. There was no dinner here but there was a pub nearby on the main road which served food. I went there for a meal while it filled with Namibian travellers. The music was typically Southern African, namely modest with subtle rhythms and confident.

Day 014. 23 May. Outjo to Uib Farm. 94km. 8 hours. 420m up. 300m down. After a great breakfast with the Australians I paid for my two nights and set off around 0800. I dropped into the garage where Pieter, the owner, gave me some information about the route and then set off out of Outjo. It was still surprisingly cold for the first half hour until the rising sun chased it away. The gravel road was wide, flat and easy, and a joy to cycle along and in no time I had done 10km.

There were farms beside the road every 5-10 km or so. There were essentially 2 types of farm; The colonial ones which had been in the same family, usually German or Afrikarner, for a few generations and the resettled farms. Resettled farms are where the original colonial farmer wants to sell. In this case the Namibian state has the first option to buy and usually does. It then portions the farm into 10 parcels or so, and allocates them to disadvantaged families based on certain criteria such as previous farming experience, age and gender, with women scoring higher. In general the reallocated farms are never that successful and what tends to happen is all the game is killed, (including birds), the trees are all made into charcoal, and the beef production is minimal and almost subsistence, as opposed to commercial. This is what I hear from the white locals so I guess it is biased, but there must be some truth in it.

As I cycled I saw a large family of mongoose on the road far ahead but I could not get a photo of them as they disappeared into the bush when I was 100 metres away. I also saw a pair of jackals in the grass of the verge ahead but they too disappeared when I neared. As I climbed up the barely noticeable gradient the bush got thinner and thinner until it was largely grassland only. I don’t think this was an ecological reason, but had more to do with land being stripped of trees or the result of a forest fire. The trees reappeared again 20 km later. Indeed the trees got bigger and bigger until many were 15 metres and when I stopped the bird song was rich. It was a vast landscape here with hills rising up from the endless plains.

The gravel road was still in great condition and it went for kilometres in the same direction undulating slowly. I was making good time and my legs felt strong. It was the perfect road for cycling really. Hardly any cars, perhaps one every half hour, hard packed gravel surface, quite flat and plenty of interest along the verge. However by mid afternoon it was getting hot and the sun was beginning to take its toll. I needed to do at least 80 km today leaving 80 tomorrow. When I reached 80 kilometres I still felt good and it was only 1600 so I decided to carry on for another hour or so and camp as I was making good time. I passed a well kept farm with its bungalow surrounded by fruit trees which were being irrigated and another with a large maize field and continued until around 1700 when I got to a third farm which looked like it was Afrikaner run. There was plenty of camping at the road side here on the grassy verge but there was a large flock of sheep about and a few shepherds. I was going to ask a shepherd on the drive up to the bungalow but a pickup appeared with a cheerful lady, called Megan, and she said was going in to see the owner and I was just follow her in. Which I did into another world of bougainvillea and flame trees in flowers and a large bungalow with long verandahs in the shade of avocado trees. Megan introduced me to the owner of the farm called Gert, a man who looked like he always had his sleeves rolled up and ready for work.

Gert was extremely hospitable when I told him what I was doing. Perhaps he recognized a kindred spirit. He gave me a coffee and then insisted I sleep in his son’s room, as he was away at University in South Africa. Within an hour of arriving I had showered, unpacked and started listening to his stories, told with great wit and leg pulling. I soon thought he was like a character out of a Hemingway novel. He was going to a braai with Megan and her husband that evening and suggested I come along as it was just on the neighbouring farm. He even took some beers for me and some lemons to give to Megan so I did not arrive empty handed.

At Megan’s the fire was already lit in the braai and it was forming a nice bed of embers. Megan and Torquil had another guest also. We sat and chatted until the embers were right and then two large hinged grids with cutlets, steaks and chicken, sandwiched in between were put over the embers and the men took turns in monitoring and turning it. After some 20 minutes it was all done and we went to the table to eat. There was a token salad but the serving dishes were full of meat, and all of it was delicious. Gert said usually they had about 360 Braais a year. “This is our culture,” he explained. I felt very humbled by their hospitality and a bit ashamed and apologetic I had contributed nothing. It was fascinating for me to see this genuine Afrikaner culture which was not only the meal, but where all the farming and social problems were discussed, like dealing with predators, poachers, water sources and all the other issues the farmers had to face and solve.

On the way back to Gerts we saw a couple of warthog and many scrub hares darting about on the track. Back on Uib Farm Gert turned on his television to show me some video camera he had set up on his property at some of the watering holes. At one of them was a group of Eland who had come to drink and lick a salt block. Although he had 500 head of cattle Gert said he could have many more but preferred to keep the density lower so there was also plenty of food for game, and he had lots of game on his properties. It had been a great day, The best yet with a long cycle and then a fascinating evening in great company.

Day 013. 22 May. Outjo rest day. 0km. 0 hours. 0m up. 0m down. I slept for 9 hours on the harder bed and woke refreshed well after the sun had risen. It did not matter at all as today was a rest day. I had two big days coming up and wanted my body to rest a bit before tackling them. It was still early days into this expedition and I did not want to injure myself early on. I eventually had breakfast in the garden as a surprisingly cold wind blew. By the time I was done it was midmorning.

I went for a half-hearted stroll around the centre of Outjo which was pretty much where I was staying. There were places offering information, but on going in they were just selling souvenirs. However there was also a spar supermarket, a garage and the German bakery. I had a few errands to do and one was to clean up the chain and sprockets on the bike a bit. The garage was owned by Peter who was fifth the generation running it. His great, great, grandfather was a blacksmith repairing carts and putting shoes on the oxen. Peter was a cyclist and knew what to do. He cleaned the chain off by brushing kerosene onto it and letting it drip off. It got rid of all the greasy, dusty paste and grass stalks. I then pressure washed the chain and tyre being careful not to let water near the seals of the hub. We then applied chain lube to the chain and it was good as new.

I returned the bike to the Farmhouse guesthouse and met a group of Australians staying there. They were my age and on a motorbike tour. I was hungry by now so I went to the German Bakery which did great food. While I was there I met Jaco from Usakos’s wife and then half an hour later the nice English/Belgium couple from Ghent who had just returned from Etosha National Park. I finished my lunch with them and then chatted over a coffee. Etosha was the highlight of their 2 week tour and they had a great meeting with a herd of elephants.

Outjo was quite a busy place with a mixed local and Afrikarneer and German population. It was also busy with tourists. After lunch I went to the supermarket which was very high quality, with lots of fresh produce. I needed some granola, powdered milk and biltong for the next two days. I found them all of course. There were lots of smart schoolkids in a brown uniform from a private fee paying school which is apparently the oldest in Namibia. It seemed it was mostly the children of the farmers and local businessmen who went here. It looked like this school also produced many of Namibia’s sports men and women as everyone was healthy and bright.

With all my chores done I returned to the guesthouse and started chatting to the Australians. There were 5 in all and they had known each other for decades and were close buddies. This was their 4th motorbike tour together having been to India, Mongolia and one another place. I had dinner with them also and there was all the leg-pulling and easy jovial humour one would expect from Australian pals. It was well after 2100 when we finished, which was after my recent bed times. I felt well rested but still not quite ready for two 8-9 hour days with 10 litres of water. It was another step up in the cycling regime.

Day 012. 21 May. Ekundi Farm to Outjo. 70km. 6 hours. 200m up. 320m down. Gunter arrived just before sundown. I could tell he was a busy, efficient man with a few enterprises, and the farm just being one. He also had a transport company and a gypsum mine. The farm was 8000 hectares and it was a working cattle farm. He had some large machines to cut hay and this year hoped to get 15,600 large round bales of grass for his cattle. After our brief chat the sun had gone down and I ate my simple meal and went to bed as it was getting cold. I did not sleep that well as I had minimal exercise, so occasionally I looked at the stars. It was a clear night and they were in full view, even the milky way was clear. I found the “pointers” for the Southern Cross and this led to the constellation itself, a little confused with the milky way behind it. As the night drew on it got a little cold and I slept in my duvet jacket also, thankful JC at Usakos talked me out of putting it in the return parcel.

I woke quite early and got up a little before 0700 as the impending sun turned the eastern horizon orange. I had granola for breakfast in bed. When I went to fill the water bottle I was sure there was a smattering of frost on the cut grass. The farmworkers came over at 0800 and chatted briefly before starting their errands. It seemed both the men and women shared the physical tasks which this morning was axing up the wood and cutting more. I think Gunter liked to keep large areas of his pasture tree-free so he could operate his haymaking machines with prairie-like efficiency.

I left at 0830 after saying good bye to the cheerful workers on Ekundi. Back on the wide gravel road I felt elated. The bike was doing well, my legs felt good, the surface was a dream and it was very very slightly downhill. Just enough downhill to give me a boost and not so steep it was wasted over a short distance. So far all the slopes up and down have been very gentle across this ancient, well eroded landscape. I sped past large open expanses of grass on Ekundi farm which were largely cleared of trees and easy to mow and produce hay. I am sure a lot of hard work over 4-5 generations has gone into this and continues to this day. After some 10 km I reached some wind pumps and corrals where cattle could wander in from the parched fodder on the dry pastures to drink. The cattle seemed to be a mix but I was sure there was some Hereford amongst their genes. The genetic mix was surely something which evolved through time to give the best compromise of hardiness and quality. After a few more kilometres I reached the end of Ekundi farm and then went back into the more feral bush with the grasslands largely getting engulfed by the scrub.

I passed a couple of local farms, where the Namibian state had purchased them and redistributed the land to numerous smaller scale farmers, but they seemed to be struggling. The scrub which was erupting across these lands was all the same height and size as if they all were 10 or 15 years old and I am sure this would be the same time the land was redistributed.

The gravel road continued to be a dream cycle in the warming sun of the morning. It was fast and there was plenty to see and observe in the vast landscape. One thing I was curious about was the 1000’s of melon/squash fruits beside the road. I am not sure if these were natural or feral, or even planted to be harvested later. I suspected they were feral. On each side of the road were 30-40 metres of grassland and then the farm fences, beyond which were the pastures of the Ekundi or the returning scrub of redistributed land. I saw a few animals in this strip of grassland, notably the small Steenbok, a small deer. They ran from the bike and sometimes doubled back, sprinting at an extraordinary speed which even a cheetah would barely match.

Occasionally I came across redistributed farms which were making more of a go of it. Their homesteads were more ramshackle and without the large machinery to gather hay and fodder. Consequently their choice of livestock was more for hardiness and they often had the Brahman breeds of cattle.

Well over half way I crossed the Erundu River. There was a very narrow strip on each side which was quite jungle-like. Breeds of Hornbill flew from one vine covered tree to the next. The river was dry now but it was easy to see there had been a torrent of water down here a few months ago at the most. Some of the sand was still damp but now it would see no water until the next rains in perhaps 6 months. It was frequently sandy in the bush and there were many birds,especially Sandgrouse. I passed one just sitting in the road hoping its camouflage would hide it from the approaching bike. The taller trees were also covered in the nests of weaver birds. I am sure there were multiple species building nests like this as they were a little different and so numerous.

Around midday I had done 45 km. An easy 45 km and stopped for a rest and drink. Hereafter the road surface got a bit looser and there was a road grader working. The cars were still very infrequent and I could pretty much cycle where I wanted looking for the firmest strip. There was usually one to be found. Any car coming could be seen 2 km away. The savannah scrub on each side of the road started to be a bit less feral now and soon I passed a large farmhouse on the east of the road which had large fields of hay, denuded of trees. There was a large farmhouse, probably of a 4-5 generation colonial family, surrounded by trees and some 10 smaller brick buildings of the local farm workers. It seemed to be a similar setup to Ekundi.

From here I crossed another dry river bed and then started the climb to Outjo. It was getting hot now and I was tired and saddle sore. After a good 5 km and 100 metres climb I met the busier tarmac road and then had another 5 km and 100 metres climb to the busy town of Outjo. It was very much a Damara/Herero town with a colonial heritage and tourist business, probably largely based on its proximity to Etosha National Park. I cycled up the main street past supermarkets to the centre near a German Bakery. Here I asked someone about accommodation and they directed me to The Farmhouse. I rode the bike into its garden restaurant, weaving through tourists to the cafe where a very jolly waitress met me. Within 120 minutes I was unpacking into a room and eating a very late lunch. It was a busy place owned by Anastasia, a larger than life local business woman who had spent time in Switzerland and was fluent in German. Most of her clients were Germans, often in tour groups in safari buses. I decided to spend a rest day here as the next stretch to Otavi was 165 km which meant two long remote days taking all my water and I needed to be rested for this. The farmhouse was a good place to relax as the food was good and the staff friendly and happy.

Day 011. 20 May. Kalkfeld to Ekundi Farm. 26km. 2 hours. 70m up. 200m down. I ate breakfast unnecessarily early at 0700. It was 100 km to Outjo and most of that was on a gravel road. I did not think I could make it in a day. When I asked Udi last night if there was anywhere between here and Outjo, and if not was there any water enroute he said no. It meant I had to camp and take all my water which was perhaps 7 litres. But by the morning Udi had hatched a plan for me. He had a friend, Gunter Kahl, who had a large farm, some 25 km from Kalkfeld. I could spend the night camping there and then the next day I could continue the 70 km from there to Outjo. Udi phoned Gunter and it was all arranged. It was perfect as it would also give me an insight into farming. The farm was only two hours away hence no need for the early breakfast.

Udi prepared me the breakfast of Kings, with toast, scrambled egg, two large smoked sausages and lots of coffee. I was done by 0800 but we started chatting. Udi was a great conversationalist and could discuss any topic. We charted for a good 3 hours; not only putting the world to rights but also telling stories from our past. The more we chatted there, the more surprised I was. He had studied hospitality management at university so I suppose I should not have been surprised when he told me he was the assistant manager at the prestigious 5 star Nelson Hotel in Cape Town. After many laughs and stories I felt I was impinging on his day and started to pack up. I eventually left at 1100. I had arrived as a coffee customer and left as a friend.

I initially cycled through the small town of Kalkfeld. It had a population of 5000 but very little employment. It seemed it was typical for rural Namibia in that the place was largely populated by retired grandparents and their grandchildren who went to the local school while the parents were away working earning a wage. It was principally the grandmother who was the main carer. There were a few local businesses and a petrol station and post office. At one small mall a cool rhythm was blasting out one of the shops. However before I knew it I was through the town and heading north.

I had to cycle 14 km on the tarred road I was on yesterday, the C33, to the turnoff. It was largely a gentle downhill and it was fast to cycle. It only took me a little more than half an hour to reach the junction. I recognized some of the road repair crews from yesterday and we waved and shouted as I passed. There were perhaps 10 lorries which overtook me and I felt it best to veer off onto the verge as they thundered past.

After the turn off it was a different world. Suddenly there was no traffic and that traffic which was coming could be seen from 2 km away from a plume of dust. I could peddle where I wanted on the road as I did on the Henties Bay to Spitzkop road. However this road was consistently better and its condition filled me with joy. There was a very slight descent and I cruised along easily avoiding some minimal areas of washboarding. It seemed these C roads were well constructed on top of a slight ridge so all the water drained off easily in heavy wet weather and any sand or dust was blown off the surface rather than accumulating on it as earlier. The mechanical graders could easily maintain its shape. For cycle touring these were the roads to go on. In retrospect from Henties Bay I should have taken the C roads to Uis, then Khorixas and then Outjo.

I cruised along optimistically with this C road discovery admiring the countryside as I cruised past. I only had some 12 km to cycle but it was lovely. I did not see much wildlife but felt it was just lurking there in the long grass. I did see many Goshawks though. The flat land was largely grass with just a few trees. Udi had told me some of the trees were invasive and these same invasive trees made excellent charcoal, which was exported via Walvis Bay to Europe. This maximized the grazing.

I passed a significant knoll and then reached the gates to Ekundi farm. I cycled in here as Gunter had said and met his foreman called Ferdinand, a lean local. He spoke no English but one of his relatives helped out, but she was very shy. There were perhaps 5 bungalows where the farm workers stayed in plots surrounded by vegetables and citrus trees. Young calves frolicked in an adjacent paddock and chickens pecked the dust in the yard. It was a vibrant rural scene. There was a new barn with a concrete mantle round it which was in the shade. It made a perfect spot to put my freestanding tent. Ferdinand then opened a door and showed me a great toilet and washroom complete with a shower. They then left me to my own devices while they went back to work.

After I showered I sat beside my tent looking across the entrance to the farm and across the grassy plain towards a large knoll covered in thorny sparse scrub. I then wrote the blog in the shade while Gunter’s farm workers cut up an enormous pile of wood on a circular saw. It took them about 2 hours and there was much gentle banter and laughter amongst them. By 1700 I had finished and the saw fell silent. Gunter was due to return from Swakopmund in the evening and said he would come and see me.

Day 010. 19 May. Omaruru to Kalkfeld. 66km. 5.5 hours. 620m up. 300m down. Breakfast was a 0700 and I was there for it as I potentially had a very long day. There was a group of German tourists and a cluster of Namibian professionals at the cheap hotel also. I chatted with the German’s guide a little bit while I packed and he said the route via Outjo I will take to Grootfontein was lovely. I left just after 0800, crossed the sandy Omaruru River bed which was very sandy but still had a tiny rivulet of water in it. Most remarkably there was a huge truck and trailer stuck in the sand, where the GPS must have advised the driver this was the route. There was a major operation going on to get it out with 2 large front loader tractor units. On the other side of the river was the main street of Omaruru.

It was remarkably tranquil and quite touristy with artisanal shops and German bakeries. It seemed a very mixed town with a local Namibian population, presumably Damera and Herero, and a lot of Africkaneers in pickups. I cycled slowly through it looking at the colonial heritage here. The road climbed steadily to the edge of town, turned north and then started to head across the open tree covered savannah. The climb was constant but it was never steep and I could just plod up in the middle gears between 10 and 15 km/p/h. The railway was occasionally beside the road so the gradient was fit for a train too.

As the track climbed it passed between farms which looked like they had been converted to game reserves. There were occasional road signs warning about warthog and others about kudu. I kept my eyes peeled for them but didn’t see any. The only thing I did see was a group of baboons, some 15 strong, which crossed the road very casually. They ambled across it while a large male kept looking out. It all happened 2-300 metres ahead of me so I did not see it well and did not get any photos.

Like the last 4 or 5 days it was overcast with a thin patchy layer of cloud and this helped keep the temperatures from soaring. On and on I climbed with my legs starting to work quite well. The road was quieter than yesterday with fewer cars and the same amount of Zambian trucks carrying copper slabs. The trucks were about every 15 minutes and they were usually in two or three. If one broke down an armed guard was dispatched to guard over it such was the value of the 20 tonnes of copper it was carrying.

At one stage the road climbed a bridge to go over the railway line and I got a great view across the vast open expanses to the west. Small hills rose in the distance but generally it was very flat. The huge open space was horizon to horizon. This year’s grasses covered all of it and a selection of trees, some 10 metres high, were scattered across it. It was when I crested a rise and could see the road continue straight across for 5 to 10 kilometres until the next rise did I realize just how huge this landscape was.

I made quite good time and suddenly I had done 50 km and done most of the climbing. I was tired but not as much as I would have been had the sun been out. I should easily make the Kalkfeld Coffee Stop by 1600. It seemed to be the only tourist facility in Kalkfeld. I had hoped the owner might allow me to camp. The final kilometres were easy and it was a very gentle run down the slope to the town. I passed a few herds of goats and then reached the first buildings. There was a guesthouse and then just after it the Coffee Stop. It had good reviews on google and I could always ask the owner about the adjacent guesthouse, so I cycled up the track to a bungalow.

Udi came out to meet me, barefoot and relaxed. However Udi was hiding his talents well. I guessed by his extremely articulate and eloquent speech, better than most of my friends, he was well educated. He said the guesthouse next door was more of a bar really but they had 3 rooms. He then said he had some room also for £15. They were great and just what I needed. I had a coffee while Udi said he could prepare me a meal if I wanted. He showed me a small garden at the back of the bungalow, an oasis of cactus, where I could relax.

Udi later told me he grew up in the Netherlands and Germany where his father was a Lutheran Pastor. When his father returned to Namibia in the 1980s he became very prominent in SWAPO and was part of the intellectual part of the independence struggle – similar to Desmond Tutu in South Africa. Udi’s father was Ngeno Nakamhela. Udi himself has semi-retired now but with his education and language skills was previously a news anchor on an independent TV broadcaster in South Africa, and then was the host for a current affairs program on the national South African Television channel. I could have chatted with him all afternoon. His insights and understanding of Southern Africa and Namibia were second to none and he explained them so carefully and with great articulation. It almost defied belief he should now be running this small coffee shop in Kalkfeld. However it was all part of a bigger community project and he also helped his father, who retired here.

I had a shower while Udi went to the shop to get food for my supper. It was a delicious risotto type dish with spinach and large dices of game meat which he thought was either Oryx or Kudu. It was delicious. I sat outside in the cactus garden while the goats congregated in the plot next door for the night. I really felt I was in Africa during my stay with Udi. We chatted more after dinner with me picking his brains on things in Namibia. He was not really political but more a commentator and observer on politics. With the meal over I went to write the blog while Udi returned to his adjacent cottage. It had been an easier than feared cycle, and a great and inspiring evening.

Day 009. 18 May. Karibib to Omaruru. 65km. 5hours. 220m up. 190m down. I slept well but was up at 0600 for my early breakfast which I ate as the sun came up. It was a standard cooked breakfast with the Boer sausage, scrambled eggs, bacon, tomatoes and toast, but today it had added cereal and yoghurt. The staff here were very gentle and looked after me well. I left at about 0730 as the sun was clear of the horizon, however it was overcast and that would hopefully help keep the heat down.

From the guesthouse I cycled down the slope for a couple of blocks to the main street which went through the town. It was still quite quiet and the stall holders were just setting up. All the other shops were closed, but probably on account of it being a Sunday which is a rest day in Namibia. At the far end of town the main street turned into the B2, the main road which went between Walvis Bay, Namibia’s main port, and Windhoek. This part of the road had been widened previously and there was a great lane for me to cycle along on the inside. However, it was all too short as after a couple of km I had to head north on the newly tarred C33. Unfortunately I could see the Zambian trucks going this way also and knew I would have them for the next couple of days and then again in a week’s time for a good few days after Grootfontein.

As I started to cycle up the C33 I passed a large settlement of closely built shacks. I think this was a township called Usab which was as big as Karibib, and certainly more populated. I should imagine it serves as a workforce for Karibib. It seemed like there were quite a few shacks per plot so I can imagine an extended family staying on one plot in different shacks. It was certainly poor.

The road I was on now was a joy to cycle along. It was quite flat and had a smooth even surface. I could speed along on the yellow line at the edge of the road. When the occasional car and truck overtook me there was plenty of room for them to swing out onto the other side provided nothing was coming. There were more and more trees now and some were nearly 10 metres tall. Beneath them was a sea of silvery golden grass just starting to rustle in the early morning wind. I passed an airport which someone told me was the base for the Namibian Airforce and then continued north.

In less than two hours I reached the Khan River bed. It was totally dry but you could see signs of recent flooding just 2 months ago. The sand river bed was covered in footprints. Some seemed very large, possibly elephant, but there were numerous small ones. The trees in this dry river bed were large and green and had no doubt stored a lot of water after the exceptional rains. Many were over 20 metres high. The Khan River will not flow for another 8 months minimum until the rainy season starts again and even then it needs exceptional downpours to get it flowing.

After the Khan River the road climbed steadily but not steeply. I noticed now how leafy the landscape was becoming. It was still arid and dry and all the grass was dried silvery gold but there were definitely more trees than even yesterday. It was a huge change from the barren, sandy Namib Desert just 200 km to the west. I could hear birds and many of the trees were covered in woven basket type nests. It was the landscape and vegetation one thinks of in Southern or Eastern Africa. Across these grass covered plains, peppered with trees, rose the Erongo Massif. They looked like they would provide some very remote challenging hiking with steep faces and no water.

About half way, when I was thinking about a break, I saw a waterhole on the other side of the large roadside fence. The fence even had 4 electric cables to keep what was inside from wandering on the road. I saw about 6-7 sprinkbok and 2 adult warthogs and a cluster of young on the far fringe of the water hole. However as soon as I left the road and approached they fled. I was pleased to see them as these were my first proper wildlife.

Unfortunately I think the sprinkbok and warthog were part of a private game reserve and there was one on the opposite side of the road too. Within 10 kilometres I passed the gates to these large farms, converted to a game reserve. They advertised safaris, hunting, and even hunting with bow and arrows. There are many such hunting farms or enterprises in Namibia and it is a component of the economy. There were a few of these “hunters” on the plane I took from Frankfurt. Many were German and from the old GDR while others were Slovak,Czech and Polish. They were all overweight, loud, poorly-educated, and when I spoke to a few, seemed to be as thick as mince. Personally I find this type of tourism as obnoxious as the SE Asian sex tourism industry, which is perpetrated by the same morons.

After another dry sandy river crossing on a bridge over the Etiro river the road, which had already been remarkably straight became exceptionally straight for about 15 kilometres without the slightest bend. It was like a Roman road and just undulated slightly to the next rise which blocked the view further. It was easy to cycle on this as the gradients were so shallow and I made good time. The day was warming up now but I was closing in on Omaruru quicker than expected peddling past grassland with taller trees and the red bare earth of termite towers, some of which were 2-3 metres high. There was then a nice long descent for the best part of 5 km into the Omaruru River valley, beside which was the town. The river, which incidentally reached the ocean at Henties Bay, was totally dry. In fact I think it only reaches the ocean once every 5-10 years after an exceptionally wet rainy season.

Just before the river was a turnoff up a road on the south bank. It took me past a number of 2 or 3 star hotels. Just what I was after. I passed one called the Kashana, but I had already researched the one next to it called the Omaruru Guesthouse. They had a nice room for £25 but no food until breakfast. However they said I could go to the Kashana next door for dinner. I showered, washed my cycling clothes, which was just the padded shorts, the sun hoodie and a pair of socks. None of which got really dirty after a couple of days. I then wrote the blog and went for an early dinner as I had not had lunch. Tomorrow I will go the 66 km to Kalkfeld which just has a coffee shop and has been described as a ghost town. It had been a good day and the early start made all the difference, both to avoid the worst heat and to give me a long afternoon to relax.

Day 008. 17 May. Usakos to Karibib. 32km. 3.5hours. 370m up. 70m down. When I went for breakfast at 0730 Cornelius was already up holding court on the large table with his family. He waved me over and handed me the two packets of Rohloff oil which the courier dropped off last night. After breakfast I took the back wheel off and then took a C clip off to remove the sprocket. Once that was off I had a clear view of the “shell seal”. To my relief it was totally unblemished. The oil discharge must have been caused by the flight and the bike lying on its side with this seal lowermost. During this time the oil must have oozzed out a bit, and then in the heat after Henties Bay oozed out onto the sprocket. I used the kit I got to flush out the hub and then put more oil into the hub. I only put 12 ml in instead of the 25 ml as apparently the rest was superfluous and I could keep it for later. The ever practical JC helped put it all back together again and by 1030 I was good to go.

Jaco, JC, his girlfriend and the two staffies came to see me off. I had had a great stay here and was truly indebted to them for their knowledge and practical help over and above their fantastic hospitality. It was also fascinating to how this very successful family thrived off their wits, wisdom and hard work in what was still essentially a pioneer culture. There were no dull trappings of the establishment here, no silly etiquette or airs and graces. It was down to earth hard graft and the wisdom of how to apply it. I felt a small loss leaving them as I cycled off through the gate and onto the road leading to the busy highway B2.

Jaco had told me I should be able to make good use of the virtually finished lanes beside the existing highway. For the last few years they have been expanding the highway and it was nearly finished. The existing 2 lanes would virtually become 4. I thought of the 32 km I had to cycle today, perhaps a few could be away from the main traffic on the hard packed earth or packed metal chippings of the new lanes. But I was soon delighted to see that I could virtually follow the entire new and unused lanes and instead I was only on the original road for a few kilometres. On the newly constructed section which I cycled for perhaps 29 km, all traffic was forbidden so it was just the very infrequent construction traffic, mostly road rollers, and me on my bike, well away from the lorries and cars.

It was overcast when I left so I just went in my cycling shorts and with no long trousers. There was also a cooling breeze which unfortunately was a head wind, as I peddled up the gradual incline out of the Khan Valley for 15 km until the road reached more of a sloping veldt. For the first few kilometers I passed the small mountain which Cornelius and his family owned. It was once a farm but it was not really feasible to farm it now; however it was suitable for the artisanal, small-scale mining which they used it for.

Although it was an easy cycle it was quite dull. The constructed road was quite predictable and very gentle; which was a good thing after the sandy gravel of the Spitzkop area. But on one side of me was the current highway and on the south side was an access road, telegraph poles and a fence. It also had a building site feel to it and it was nothing like the wilderness of the Namib desert. I saw very little wildlife here but kept my eyes peeled for the giraffes which JC told me frequent the area. After some 3 hours cycling and many waves at the construction workers I eventually reached the slightly industrial west side of Karibib.

Soon afterwards the construction road finished but by now I was almost in town and there were two lanes anyway and some pavements here and there. I peddled up the main street passing a few older charming houses from the colonial heritage era but mostly perfunctory warehouses, small offices and garages until, still a little short of the centre, saw a turning for the Halfway Overnight Guesthouse. I took the side street up to it for a couple of blocks heading south until I reached its large metal gate.

I banged on the gate and it slid open operated by remote and I cycled into the compound beyond. It was essentially a bungalow with a few garages around it and an annex attached to the bungalow. A very friendly Namibian lady came to greet me and then showed me to the annex where there were 3 rooms and a verandah. She showed me a room which was surprisingly large and comfortable with a huge bathroom and a fridge. It was self catering but there was no cooker, just a kettle and microwave. However, the room was great.

I was parched so thought about going to the nearby supermarket and at the same time checking out a restaurant for the evening. However there were just stalls beside the road and the only interesting restaurant had just closed at 1600. So I decided to just buy cold food and yoghurts in the supermarket and eat it in my room. I returned to the room as the heat was leaving the day and had a wonderful shower before writing and snacking. Dinner was very much a bachelor’s fare – two tins of pilchards, a surprise tin with Chakalaka written on it which turned out to be very spicy vegetables and beans and the rest was yoghurts. It had been an easy day and I was relieved that the Rohloff Hub did not leak any oil since topping it up this morning.

Day 007. 16 May. Usakos Rest Day. 0km. hours. 0m up. 0m down. JC came over after breakfast and we took the bike to his workshop. I did not understand much about Rohloffs, and JC had never seen one. However he had an intuitive mechanical knowledge having learnt it for 25 years from Jaco. We both realized that the hub was empty of oil and both thought this was a bad thing. It needed a very light oil to replace the oil which had leaked out, and oil found readily in petrol stations would not do. It had to be more like sewing machine oil. JC pointed out the wrong oil might perish the rubber seals.

Meanwhile Jaco, who had mastered AI searches on his phone, found a wealth of information in a short time. He also located the 2 only vials of replacement oil in Namibia which were in Windhoek. They were quickly ordered and apparently would be delivered at midnight. I would then be able to fill the hub with oil tomorrow morning and continue. So we cleaned up the chain and returned to the hotel. There was nothing I could do except wait and pray the seals were still OK.

I spent the rest of the day trying to contact Rohloff experts and reading forums about the gear hub. What I gleaned was that they do leak, especially if they have been placed on their sides or been in a plane. Mine had been both on its side and in a plane. What happens is the oil pools against the seal and then if the pressure difference is great seeps out. However, I also learnt it is not a big deal and that Rohloff hubs could go for 1000 km without oil. But this went against everything I knew about engine lubrication, and JC was also surprised they could work without oil for so long. But we heard it from the Rohloff technician in the UK.

Perhaps I was being a bit over cautious but I was glad the oil was enroute and the hub would be filled tomorrow. There were a couple of other guests at the hotel so I spent supper chatting with them and then crashed out quite early. It had been a lost day really as I had recovered physically and was well rested and had done everything else which needed doing. Had the hub not sprung a leak I would have already been in Karibib.

One good thing about my extended stay here was also finding out about the roads from Cornellius and his extended family. After Grootfontein I had intended to go east towards Khaudum National Park and then north. This raised eyebrows and I was told all these roads were extremely sandy and would be a nightmare on a bike. It seemed the only sensible option was the not too busy B8 highway from Grootfontein to Rundu. Also I was recommended to avoid some of the D roads I had planned on and instead take the slightly longer C roads passing through Outjo, which were still gravel but quiet, rural and well maintained and not frustratingly difficult on a bike.

Day 006. 15 May. Usakos Rest Day. 0km. hours. 0m up. 0m down. I was still tired but had a niggling worry with the bike. On the second day, coming up from Henties Bay I noticed a lot of oil on the chain and the sprocket side of the Rohloff hub. I put it down to the lube coming out of the chain and mixing with the dust. However in the back of my mind I suspected it could also be from the inside of the Rohloff hub, having squeezed past a seal and leaked out.

JC was a very practical guy and he had a workshop and agreed to help me investigate. I also needed to clean the chain and he had the chemicals to clean and re-lube it from his motor bike. However he had gone to Swakopmund for the day.

I also had to go through all my stuff and get rid of some weight so I turned my attention to that. I emptied out all my gear onto the tables in the lovely quiet courtyard and started going through it all. I was quite ruthless and even got rid of my stove and fuel which was slightly over 2 kg, 2 kg of clothes, a kg of medicine and creams, a kg from the maintenance kit and at least 2 kg from my gadgets, solar panels, extra battery packs etc. In the end I had sheared off nearly 10 kg. I got a box from the shop next door and Jaco helped me tape it up and get ready for shipping. Once that was done I had lunch and then spoke to Cornelius for the best part of 2 hours.

Cornellius was fascinating. He was in his early 80’s but was much younger than that in body and mind. His life story was quite incredible and like that of a 1849 gold rush miner in California or Alaska. It would be easy to romanticise it but there were lots of hardships and time spent in the desert as a conscientious objector when the Namibian SWAPO and South African army were at loggerheads. He had a lifetime’s worth of wildlife encounters, some wonderful and others too close for comfort. Through his well lived, unpampered life however he had always had a fascination for gemstones and this was his work with many highs and lows. Now after 80 years he had an intuitive self taught knowledge and wisdom about the business. He was still very involved in it and was not going to rest on his laurels. Like most interesting men he is going to die with his boots on. I could have listened to his stories all day but he had to go up and see what was happening with the mine.

I then spoke to Jaco who was married to Cornellius’s daughter. Jaco was just in his mid 50’s so still had the full vigour of life and was a very savvy business man and always on the ball at solving problems. He helped me enormously over the course of my stay, with couriers to get my unwanted items parcel home, and with helping to sort out the Rohloff gear hub on the bike.

As the Afternoon wore on it I realised I would need tomorrow morning with JC to sort out the chain and hub as he was switched on to it as he maintained his motorcycle. So when Jaco asked me if I wanted to see a blast at the mine in an hour’s time I jumped at the chance. We went up to the area where they were excavating.

There was a granitic outcrop at the surface, but Cornellius had worked out there were some Pegmatite seams in it. These Pegmatite seams had intruded into cracks in the granite when the Pegamatite was molten. By this I mean the molten Pegmatite, under enormous pressure, had been forced into the small cracks in the granite. As it entered these cracks it forced the granite apart so the cracks were now a metre or even many meters wide until the pressure diminished and the process stabilised. When the Pegmatite started to cool its chemical composition and rate of cooling meant certain minerals formed like Mica or Tourmaline. Very, very occasionally the Torrmaline formed crystals and if the molecules were arranged in certain planes or patterns these crystals would be gem stones and worth selling.

When we reached the mine the few workers were just finishing off packing some 150 holes with dynamite. As dusk approached it was ready to blast and everybody withdrew a ½ kilometre. There was a warning and then an almighty blast and flash, and a second later the shockwave rumbled through my chest. It was nearly dark now so we returned back to town. The blast should be quite small and should just loosen 20 square metres to a depth of a meter. Any bigger and it might destroy any eventual Tourmaline crystals embedded in the displaced rock. However there were seldom any worthwhile crystals uncovered from a single blast, which was about twice a week.

When we returned JC had returned from his errand but it was too late to do the bike and we all drifted off to bed. It had been a fascinating day for me, quite inspirational.

Day 005. 14 May. Usakos Rest Day. 0km. hours. 0m up. 0m down. After a great night’s rest at the cool rooms of the Bahnhof Hotel I settled down on a large table in the tranquil covered courtyard to write the blog. I had 3 days to do all together and it took the best part of the day, partly because I was quite inefficient about it.

There were essentially 3 generations at the hotel.The grandfather Cornelius, The father Jaco and the Son, JC, who ran the hotel. While I wrote they came and chatted with me sometimes for an hour at a time. It was a relaxing day and at last I managed to get the blog posted in the evening after a delicious King Klip fish dinner. I really needed this day as a rest day. The last 3 days, especially the last two, had taken it out and the sun, thirst and effort had all conspired to punish me.

Day 004. 13 May. Spitzkop to Usakos. 55km. 6 hours. 400m up. 580m down. I had a major think last night and again in the morning. After the optimism of the D (District) roads after leaving Henties Bay on the D1918, I realized with a blow that they could be fraught and untrustworthy especially in sandy areas. Much of the route I had planned was on D roads. The other thing was I had too much weight and I had to get rid of it. The next section I planned was on very small tracks through to more D roads which would lead to Omaruru. I realized that would be very difficult so I hatched a new plan and that was to go south to the main tar road then to the town of Usakos. There I could recoup, get my strength back, write the blog, post some gear home, check the bike and then continue to Omaruru on easier roads. So after breakfast at the cafe where I camped, I set off late, around 1030, on the road south to Usakos, having given most of my food away to the ladies who worked at the cafe. It was about 5 kg

I continued down the track from the reception to the D3716 gravel road and met it at a local village with perhaps 50 shacks, a shop and a school. It was covered in stalls selling crystal and trinkets to tourists visiting Spitzkop. Once on this D road it was a reasonably slow 10 km to the south. I felt much better and the bike was a bit lighter. I did not feel the uphill sections as much as yesterday, and there were many, as the road went across the east to west drainage systems. It meant a long descent to a sandy riverbed, dry of course and which I had to push across. Then a gradual climb up to the next shallow ridge where there was wonderful views over the expansive, open countryside, covered in grass and shorter trees. It looked very much like what the text books would describe as savannah. I had to repeat this up and down with the odd push about 5-6 times before I got to the junction with the D1918, the road I was on previously before I took the rougher road to Spitzkop yesterday. At the junction was a cluster of homesteads and a strong smell of sheep or goats. I could not see any but could see the area they spent the night in a fenced coral to protect them.

At the junction I turned east and took the flatter road across the top of the plateau at around 1200 metres. It was slightly easier but there were a couple of longer climbs, and one with a copious stretch of sand. A South African couple stopped to see if I wanted a lift which was kind but I declined and continued to push. It took the best part of another 2 hours of easier cycling, all be it with many washboard ruts, to reach the main road, the B2. Here a Dutch couple offered me a chilled coke. It was nectar and just what I wanted.

I now had the final section of the day, 24 kilometres on a busier main, tarmac road. The main port of Namibia is Walvis Bay and this was the road which connected it with Windhoek so all the imports came up this road as did the lorries carrying mining equipment to Namibia, and even Zambia. The road was not that busy but it was fast and narrow. There was not enough room for two lorries and a bicycle but there was a large gravel verge. I headed east with one eye on the road ahead and one on my mirror. In the end I got good at judging when to pull off onto the verge when a lorry approached from behind. Most of the cars pulled out to give me a wide berth but the truck drivers were not so compromising. For the first 12 km the road seemed busier and I had to pull off every other minute but on the second half only about every 5 minutes. I have never been so thankful for a mirror. The second half of this tarmac section was a 12 km descent down into the Khan River valley where I lost 400 metres. It was a magnificent section and I cruised along passing weaver birds nests in the taller trees doing well over 20 km/p/h. The breeze kept me cool.

Soon the town of Usakos appeared in the valley below, a strip of trees defined where the river bed went. As I crossed the Khan River on a bridge I could see it was totally dry and full of sand. After the bridge was a petrol station where I pulled in to look at the map for a hotel. It seemed there was a good one called the Bahnhof hotel and it was just a few blocks away, so I peddled up the wide street with two lanes each direction past the one story buildings to reach the hotel.

The front was quite unwelcoming with metal gates and the feel of a Wells Fargo stronghouse in the mid west 100 years ago. I went into the bar which was like walking into a saloon bar in the same era, however it had great character. I met the owner JC and he gave me a warm welcome and took me through to the back. Suddenly I was in an oasis of tranquility and peace. There was a large covered courtyard with some 15 spread out tables and outside the covered areas were pots of cactus, flower beds, Bougainvillea and a small swimming pool. The rooms were around the outer courtyard. I could easily spend a couple of days here writing the blog and sorting out the kit to send home.

JC and family were all quite local and knew the area well. There was JC, his father and his grandfather all living and running the hotel with a wealth of information. JC even had a workshop nearby and would help me with a few bike maintenance issues, mostly cleaning and tightening the chain. I felt I had landed on my feet here.I had a shower, washing off the dust and salt, put my dusty clothes in a washing basket, and I felt cool and clean. I had not eaten much over the last few days so I made amends for that and had a large rumpsteak and then went to bed in the cool evening at 2000.

Day 003. 12 May. Road D1918 to Spitzkop. 46km. 8 hours. 490m up. 120m down. I slept well and woke early at 0600. I was waiting for the cold desert air to come and chill me but it never arrived in the night and even in the morning it was just cool. I got up as the moon was setting where the sun had gone down 12 hours ago and the sky to the east was orange with the expected sun. I had the rest of the muesli and a litre of milk and felt refreshed. As soon as the sun burst over the horizon the cool was banished. It was a beautiful morning. I was packed and on the bike by 0800 and pushed it across the gravel beneath the wispy grass to the road, optimistic that I only had 40 km to go having done the lion’s share of the cycle yesterday.

However I quickly ran into real problems. The road was largely fine with a coating of loose gravel on a solid base, but occasionally it was sandy for 100 metres or more. I could not cycle across it but tried until the bike ground to a halt or the front wheel veered to one side – and twice it fell over. The only way forward was to get off and push. I must have had to have done that maybe 15 times by midday and it was hard work especially as the bike and panniers were around 75-80 kg and the wheels cut a deep rut in the dry sandy gravel. My joy and optimism of the same time yesterday had all vanished as even on the good sections I was doing less than 10 km/p/h, and then just half that when pushing. By midday day I had only done 20 km and all that had come at a high cost.

As I struggled I had failed to notice that the landscape had changed slightly and now the looming granite outcrops were getting closer. There were frequent bushes about and the wispy grass of last night now covered the entire landscape. It was what one imagines a typical veldt landscape to be like. It was very gently rolling and a light beige to see, quite benign really were it not for the aridness and heat. I also noticed more wildlife. Firstly there were the Armoured Ground Cricket, a clumsy large beetle whose long legs moved in a similar fashion to the robotic dogs one sometimes sees on television. There were thousands of them and many on the road, squashed by the occasional 4×4’s. Many squashed ones were being devoured, cannibalistically, by their living kindred, who might soon suffer the same fate. These crickets were also on the tufts of grass and later when I saw fence posts had climbed up them. There were also birds now, most were small beige birds, like Larks, Chats or Cisticolas. Either they were fledglings or they were poor fliers and they hoovered over the road looking for insects. These small birds did not tackle the large ground crickets. The shrubs were also becoming more plentiful with some trees reaching 4 metres.

Along this section I also came across poor rustic homestreads along the road. They were few and far between and were desperately poor. They were often some distance from the road, say 2-300 metres, but all had a very rustic, unmanned, stall at the road selling stones,crystals and minerals and sometimes firewood. As I approached them children came running from the shacks. I later found out many of the children here were being looked after by the grandparents in the shack, while the parents were away working in a town.

The wind was against me today and it was certainly helping slow me down but the main issue was the terrain and the occasional sandy stretches which although short were taxing. However after some 6 hours and 30km I eventually reached a turn off to Spitzkop from the D1918 district road. I was wary about taking it as it could be worse, but it would save me kilometres.

This small road was worse. It was very rutted and bumpy, with washboard type striations across it, I could weave from side to side to avoid the worst as it was deserted. After some 5 km I came down to the Spitzkop river where there were a few shacks and a gate across the road. Beyond the gate was a dust covered stall selling crystals with no one at it. At least tourists came this way then. As I was looking at the map, 3 children appeared. They looked very very poor and wretched. I was quite appalled but the only thing they asked for was food. I am ashamed to say I was about to go when they arrived and just continued my descent to the river bed with a pang of guilt. I had food and too much of it and should have given them some. If I ever come back that way later I will bring them something delicious for them.

The river bed was dry and sandy. The sand was deep. Perhaps 20 cm and it seemed as if some of the 4×4 which went this way struggled with it. It was quite a push to heave the bike across it. It was also in the prime heat of the early afternoon and I was overheating tremendously. After this main river there were many other small tributaries with similar pushes and longer cycling stretches between. Some 5 km Spitzkop I thought I really had to take a break as I was getting too hot for a 65 year old. At the end of one sandy section was a small tree beside the road which offered some shade and respite. I decided to sit a while in its shade. There were a few weaver birds nests in the tree so I checked it over for a sleeping Boomslang or Vine Snake and then laid down it the dirt under it. I was tired and snoozed lightly for 1½ hours until the heat of the day had passed at 1700. It was then a small cycle up the track, climbing steeply to reach the gate of the Spitzkop camping area, with the granite batholith looming high above me. It was called Namibia’s Matterhorn. It was impressive but even the most liberal licence would concede it was not on the same scale as the Matterhorn.

I was shattered when I got to the gate, tired, out of fuel, and hot but was met with the worst news. The lodge was still another 15 minutes drive away and this meant perhaps 10 km. However the guard did have the heart not to charge a fee as I did not have a number plate. He suggested I go down to the reception area over the hill, most of which I had already climbed, and then descend where there was a restaurant which had everything. The lodge was too far I thought so it was a crushing blow.

I pushed up the sandy track to the top of the hill and then largely freewheeled down the other side for a good 20 minutes to reach the reception area at 1800 hrs. I found the restaurant. It was a cafe at best and it closed an hour ago. However it did have a deserted outdoor seating area with large cushions. I parked up the bike in this compound and then slumped on a cushioned seat. I cannot remember being so exhausted for a long time. If anyone asked me to move on I would have said no. As I looked around I realized it would be a great place to spend the night. I could sleep on one of the large cushions with my bike beside me, there were empty tables to cook at and I discovered there were showers here too. I had a shower which freshened me up and then made dinner from 4 packets of instant noodles. It was all I could be bothered to cook. It was around 2000 when I was fed and watered and then I crashed into my sleeping bag with a sigh of relief and slept like a dog again.

Day 002. 11 May. Henties Bay to Road D1918. 61km. 8 hours. 660m up. 50m down. I was well rested at the charming Huis Klipdrift and returned to the Misty Bay cafe for breakfast and some of the best coffee in a long time. I set off towards 1000 am, conscious I had missed the cool of the morning as I navigated my way through the open dusty lanes of Henties Bay. Pretty much everything was a single story which made it feel spacious. Within 10 minutes I was on the outskirts of the small town and then I crossed the main C34 coastal road soon after which I went straight over to reach the D1918 gravel road. This was the road I had to follow for the next 100 km to reach Spitzkop.

The D1918 was a dream road. While it was gravel, the gravel was packed hard hard, perhaps with salt and the surface was smooth and fast. I also had a slight breeze behind me. If it continued like this, and I optimistically thought there was no reason it shouldn’t, then the trip was going to be easy. There was a slight climb perhaps 10 meters in every kilometre and it was barely perceptible and perhaps annulled by the following breeze.

I was now cycling through the Dorob National Park, a long 30 kilometre wide strip which went along the entire Skeleton Coast. There was however nothing here at all. No vegetation, no rodent tracks and no sign of any life, It was just a sea of small gravel and sand which was peppered with the occasional larger stone.

It was a featureless coastal mantle. It was in complete contrast to the adjacent ocean which was rich in life. Much of this was attributable to the Benguela current, a cold current which circulates off the Skeleton Coast and wells up from the depths of the Atlantic. It is rich in phytoplankton, or chlorophyll containing plant plankton. This in turn sustains a rich density of zooplankton which feeds on the phytoplankton. The Zooplankton in turn supports a vast fish and mammal diversity ranging from Sardines and up to whales, which gorge themselves on the zooplankton. Seals, sea birds, and great white sharks also thrive from the fish making this a vibrant ecosystem and rich fishing grounds.

However the Namib Desert had nothing except for a narrow coastal strip of prostrate shrubs which survived off the sea fog the cold Benguela Current produced. Where I was cycling now was beyond the strip and devoid of life as the moon was. Indeed it felt like a moonscape. As I headed east into the interior the hard packed salty road, with its polished surface seemed to slowly peter out and instead it was replaced by sections of gravel, which still mostly compact but there was the occasion stretch where it was looser and the front wheel skewed off to one side and I had to fight to get it back.

After midday it began to get very hot and the sun was at its highest now slightly to the north of me. There was no hiding from it and I noticed I was getting burnt. I had to stop to put on long trousers over my cycling shorts, change my shirt for my white reflective sun hoodie and put on my sun gloves to protect the back of my hands. The outfit made a huge difference and the gloves and sun hoodie were especially good. I had set off with 6 litres of water and was cautious about drinking too much at once as I had to ration it.

As the early afternoon merged into the late afternoon I continued to pedal under the hot sun. Unfortunately the road was getting worse with a centimetre of loose dry gravel on top of a firm base. However occasionally there were sections where the surface was a thicker sand gravel mix, maybe 5-10 centimetres thick and I had to weave from side to side to try and keep on firmer ground. The road was very quiet with a 4X4 vehicle every half hour or so and I could see them coming a kilometre away from the plumes of dust, so I could weave at will.

By the late afternoon the heat of the day was at last starting to diminish and the sun was lowering over my left shoulder. I started to see a few more insects here, especially beetles and the occasional butterfly. I also saw a small lizard. I wondered where they could derive any sustenance as it was still barren earth, but there was an occasional prostrate bush defiantly trying to survive here and there and the occasional tuft of wispy silver grey grass.

I knew how quickly the sun went down in the tropics. There was none of the long drawn out dusk and dawn of the temperate regions. So I was eager to get camped well before sun down. By 1730 I had cycled an extra 10 km to make tomorrow easier and had 60 km under my belt so I looked for a campsite. I was spoiled for choice as they were everywhere and by now the wispy grass was covering the flat landscape making it look like a veldt. I wheeled the bike across the hard gravel of the veldt some 100 metres from the road and put the tent up. I was tired and stiff and even this now was a strenuous job but it was done as the sky neared the NW horizon. It was going down in a blaze of colour and this reflected on the silvery grass so it looked like an ocean of water. Behind me the full moon was rising above from outcrops to the east which I thought would be the Spitzkop granitic outcrops. It was all very dramatic and very remote.

Inside the tent I could not be bothered to cook a meal. A salty, hot pot of carbohydrate was the last thing on my mind. Instead I had a bowl of refreshing muesli with dried milk and the rest of today’s ration of water. I was way too tired to write the blog so quickly fell asleep with my large hunting knife, pepper spray and air klaxon to hand. I don’t think an animal could live here but maybe some brown hyenas were passing between the coast and the interior. It had been a good day but I was dog tired.

Day 001. 10 May. Swakopmund to Henties Bay. 75km. 5 hours. 220 up. 210 down. I woke a few times in the night, both nervous and excited. I was worried about the weight on behalf of the bike in tolerating it and on me for having to pedal it. However it was too late now. After the early breakfast I finished packing the panniers and loaded them onto the bike and left at 0900 on a beautiful morning. Initially I went down to the old jetty where the Atlantic waves were crashing onto the beach. It was just to be sure I did start beside the ocean.

The run through Swakopmund was very pleasant and leafy. It led me into a false hope of greenery up the coast. At one stage I had to swerve for about 5 guinea fowl hens and 15 large chicks along the palm lined promenade. Swakopmund was much bigger than I thought with many newer houses being built northwards. However eventually the urban creep and the greenery petered out and the road led me into a barren arid landscape. I passed a large secondary school which looked like it was fee paying and then soon met the main C34 road north along the coast.

I was led to believe the road was a “salt road”. That is hard packed gravel topped with a film of salt crystals which blew in from the coast. I had already been on a few this morning on the way out of Swakopmund and they were remarkably smooth. However this road was tarmac and it was smooth, flat and a delight to cycle on. Despite the weight the bike felt good and once I had it up to speed it cruised along at 15-20 kmph with any effort.

As I headed north there were some large shallow lagoons between me and the sea some 2-3 km to the west. These were used as evaporating ponds to produce salt and in the distance, slightly obscured by the sea haze, was the main factory surrounded by huge piles of salt, which was no doubt waiting to be refined. Once past the salt factory the road veered nearer the sea and I could see breaking waves up the coast until the light blue/grey haze obscured them far to the north. The waves were not huge and quite random so I don’t think Swakopmund would be a surfers paradise, even if it was not frequented by Great White Sharks in search of the Cape Fur Seals.

For the next hour or so there was a lovely ride up with the desert on my east side. It was largely just bare gravels and earth with very little plant life. In the distance were the hazy hills some 20-50 kilometres away beyond this coastal mantle. While on the west was half a kilometer or so of sparsely vegetated sand and then the sea beyond the small coastal dunes. This vegetation was mostly Pencil Bush and Dollar Bush, both low shrubs with succulent leaves which somehow survive by harvesting the moisture in the coastal fog.

The road was quite busy with fishermen who I could also see driving along the coastal dunes from fishing spot to fishing spot. It seemed a very popular pastime and their beach casting rods were huge and stuck up above their 4 X 4 ‘s. Beside the tarmac road I was on, was a small track of packed gravel and embedded salt. I occasionally ventured onto it but the tarmac was significantly faster.

After a couple of hours I reached Woitzkasbaken. It was a spread out collection of some 50 small Bohemian cabins and shacks, all hunkered down in the bare salt encrusted gravel. It was very bleak and otherworldly but there were some small flower beds to soften the harsh surroundings. Whale bones were everywhere and some were used as fences and others arranged as decoration. This coast is called the Skeleton Coast on account of some many bones here, and a century ago was a major source of bonemeal fertilizer.

After a detour into this rustic hamlet I returned to the road and continued my leisurely journey north. I stopped at a signpost for the Dorob Nation Park to have a snack and read about the lichen which covers the landscape here. As I went north I noticed vast flocks of cormorants, which I think were Cape Cormorants. There must have been over 100,000 of them all the way along this coast. No doubt they thrive on the small fish which are rich in these cooler waters and gave rise to the sardine industry here. As I approached Henties Bay I detoured down the half km or so towards the sea to see the wreck of the Zelia. This coast line is littered with shipwreaks but most are soon smashed up by the waves, but the Zelia has withstood nearly 2 decades.

After a good 4 ½ hours I could start to see the Henties Bay telecom mast and half an hour later I was in the small town. I had always intended to stop here and was delighted I was here so early. I cycled down the side road into town and then checked out some B&B’s or self catering apartments under the shade of a rare tree. There were supermarkets and coffee shops here but no hotels. Just lots of self catering apartments. I eventually settled on one which was right in the centre and near some coffee shops. I found it in a quiet side street and it seemed lovely. It was an old Africaner style cottage and covered in bougainvillea. Past the security gate I met Val, the owner of Huis Klipdrift, and she showed me a practical small apartment in its own bungalow. I had the bike in the courtyard and unpacked it quickly and then straight into the shower to wash my clothes while the sun was still high. I then wrote the blog in the only room in the apartment while the sun went down and my stomach rumbled in anticipation of a small cafe. It was dark when I ventured out and returned to the sleepy main street. It was virtually deserted but a cafe I noticed on the way in, called Misty Bay, was still open.

There were very few in the cafe, just a couple of locals getting a carry out. It had a nice vibe to it. In fact Henties Bay had a nice vibe. It was never going to compete with Swakopmund for salubrious tourists but was more for fishermen and retirees. It had a population of about 3000. I ordered a beer and drank it while waiting on the fish. Like most places I had been in Namibia so far, which is very limited, the staff here were very happy and there was great banter amongst them. They seemed to have emerged from the dark days of colonial oppression 100 years ago and then more recently South African apartheid, with great contentment and confidence. When it came the fish was local hake and very good

It had been a great day. Much easier than feared and very different to anything I have seen before. I had agonised over many aspects of this trip but as I sat in the Misty Bay Cafe with the first day under my belt I felt quite vindicated.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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