Simple words that couldn't have been funnier considering the circumstances but I'm getting ahead of myself.
In our last post we mentioned we were heading to the town of Swakopmund. Its a top vacation spot just north of of the deep water port of Walvis ( locals pronounce it Volfish) Bay.
We had hooked up with a local ecologist to take us out through the dunes to the bird sanctuary of Sandwitch harbor even further south along the coast.
For Mary and I this was great, Bruno the guide/ecologist/political commentator gave us a running history of Namibia as we bounded past the largest salt works in the world (if I remember right, 2000 ton/day). We proceeded into the dunes some cresting 200 feet to see jackals, various birds (Mary and I failed to id the Ostrich pooh) and a desert "cucumber" which can pump water 30 meters along the roots.
At the base of one dune, near a hand pump water well that a well intentioned but naive NGO built for the "native population" to use (the fact there isn't a native population here, the fact most of the people in Walvis Bay are rather well off Afrikaners didn't really figure into the NGOs planning) but it did make a nice place to stop & wash up before sitting down to a lunch of Kudu liver pate, home made bread, Eland lasagna, Greek salad apple tort & coffee.
After lunch we headed to Sandwitch Harbor. What I haven't mentioned is all of this driving is in deep sand, hard pan in some places, quick sand if your not paying attention. The "trail" to Sandwitch is a kilometer or so narrow strip of sand beach that is actually the foot of a larger dune ( about 250' high) the waves crash at it's base making the beach a 30 degree slope of sticky wet sand. You can only transit the strip at low tide.
We hit the passage at first ebb. With the tires deflated to maybe 50% there rating, Bruno waited; the last set of waves receded and guns the the old Rover Defender in a mad dash across the base of the dune. The engine whines under the strain the tires dig and slide into the soft wet sand. We are tilting precariously, with all of us press against each other even as we cling to the seats and hand holds. The engine lugs, the rear end of the Land Rover digs into the sand and slides towards the sea, Bruno shifts gears finds some torque and pulls us out of the in coming wave but it throws us higher up the slope we tilt even further I'm pushing against the roof to hold myself away from the door, Mary slides across the seat into my lap and let's go with whimper of terror as we slide back down the slope. Another goose of the gas sets us right and skitter like a deisel driven crap down the beach. We are all (including Bruno) laughing with nervous relief, only a half kilometer to go. Jerk of the rig throws Mary back to the middle of the rear seat, where she figures she needs to get a picture of this moment. She whips out the camera brings it to her eye as she trys the frame a shot out the front windshield. We slide nose first towards the sea, Bruno corrects, we are thrown to the left of the vehicle, Mary try's to focus the picture again. We hit a high spot in the sand sending us yet again out of our seats, Mary pulls herself of the floor and still try's to get a picture; with camera at her eye she blurts out, over the whine of the engine, as we are once again tossed about like rag dolls, "don't worry I have a stabilizing lens." The car goes quite we all look at her as pulls herself of the back seat and snaps a picture, while Bruno, with his classic South African accent says "I'm not worried about your damnlens, I'm worried about my truck!"
You had to be there but considering the peril it was the comic relief we all needed.
Needeless to say we made it. The birding was good so was the adventure. And the phrase "I have a stabilizing lens" will be a pop phrase for some time to come when anything seems to be going sideways.
Next up kayaks & seal breath.
Take care all.
In our last post we mentioned we were heading to the town of Swakopmund. Its a top vacation spot just north of of the deep water port of Walvis ( locals pronounce it Volfish) Bay.
We had hooked up with a local ecologist to take us out through the dunes to the bird sanctuary of Sandwitch harbor even further south along the coast.
For Mary and I this was great, Bruno the guide/ecologist/political commentator gave us a running history of Namibia as we bounded past the largest salt works in the world (if I remember right, 2000 ton/day). We proceeded into the dunes some cresting 200 feet to see jackals, various birds (Mary and I failed to id the Ostrich pooh) and a desert "cucumber" which can pump water 30 meters along the roots.
At the base of one dune, near a hand pump water well that a well intentioned but naive NGO built for the "native population" to use (the fact there isn't a native population here, the fact most of the people in Walvis Bay are rather well off Afrikaners didn't really figure into the NGOs planning) but it did make a nice place to stop & wash up before sitting down to a lunch of Kudu liver pate, home made bread, Eland lasagna, Greek salad apple tort & coffee.
After lunch we headed to Sandwitch Harbor. What I haven't mentioned is all of this driving is in deep sand, hard pan in some places, quick sand if your not paying attention. The "trail" to Sandwitch is a kilometer or so narrow strip of sand beach that is actually the foot of a larger dune ( about 250' high) the waves crash at it's base making the beach a 30 degree slope of sticky wet sand. You can only transit the strip at low tide.
We hit the passage at first ebb. With the tires deflated to maybe 50% there rating, Bruno waited; the last set of waves receded and guns the the old Rover Defender in a mad dash across the base of the dune. The engine whines under the strain the tires dig and slide into the soft wet sand. We are tilting precariously, with all of us press against each other even as we cling to the seats and hand holds. The engine lugs, the rear end of the Land Rover digs into the sand and slides towards the sea, Bruno shifts gears finds some torque and pulls us out of the in coming wave but it throws us higher up the slope we tilt even further I'm pushing against the roof to hold myself away from the door, Mary slides across the seat into my lap and let's go with whimper of terror as we slide back down the slope. Another goose of the gas sets us right and skitter like a deisel driven crap down the beach. We are all (including Bruno) laughing with nervous relief, only a half kilometer to go. Jerk of the rig throws Mary back to the middle of the rear seat, where she figures she needs to get a picture of this moment. She whips out the camera brings it to her eye as she trys the frame a shot out the front windshield. We slide nose first towards the sea, Bruno corrects, we are thrown to the left of the vehicle, Mary try's to focus the picture again. We hit a high spot in the sand sending us yet again out of our seats, Mary pulls herself of the floor and still try's to get a picture; with camera at her eye she blurts out, over the whine of the engine, as we are once again tossed about like rag dolls, "don't worry I have a stabilizing lens." The car goes quite we all look at her as pulls herself of the back seat and snaps a picture, while Bruno, with his classic South African accent says "I'm not worried about your damnlens, I'm worried about my truck!"
You had to be there but considering the peril it was the comic relief we all needed.
Needeless to say we made it. The birding was good so was the adventure. And the phrase "I have a stabilizing lens" will be a pop phrase for some time to come when anything seems to be going sideways.
Next up kayaks & seal breath.
Take care all.
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