The "dry lands" of Namibia

Our night in the cliff side lodge left us well rested and in return we brought them a well needed overnight rain. The patter of raindrops on our roof lulled us into a sense of peace. On awakening,we soon realized that we were totally fogged in. With the frightening thought of descending the winding trail to the road below, in visibility that was non existent, we bravely pushed on. Fortunately, the fog soon lifted and the gravel road ahead began to clear before us.

In areas of dryland Africa, when it rains it pours. When it pours it floods. When it floods the roads develop muddy rutted bogs that swallow up even the biggest trucks. Half way through one of these wet holes we became planted. 16 men and women, one driver/guide and hundreds of miles from the nearest tow truck, it looked bad. We were a resourceful lot though. Taking off our shoes or sandals and willingly leaping to the aid of Kembo, we came up with at least 16 variations of the best way to get unstuck. Further discussions led to the decision to call for help. With no cell phone signal we quickly moved on to plan B. Fortunately for us another vehicle came along and after exhausting plans B, C and D, we sent the driver off to find an area where he could call back to our lodge to see if they could assist us. While we waited, plan E was put into effect and the men, ably cheered on by the women, decided we could push the truck backwards and out of our dilemma. What a brilliant plan! Pushing with super human strength we managed to get the truck out of the bog and onto dry road again. The next plan did not work quite so well. We all piled into the truck and, taking a run at the troubling section of road, we made it to about the same place we had previously been stuck.

To make a long...you really had to be there to appreciate it...story short. The women carried rocks and small stones to the rutted bog. The men carefully placed them into the tire tracks and then low and behold a 4x4 truck appeared and after a further series of plans, attempts and new supplies, we were able to get the truck out. This time on the correct side of the bog. To a chorus of cheering and clapping we high fived one another, tried to wash some of the mud off our feet and legs in the dirty roadside puddles and climbed back into our trusty truck. To a voiciferous chorus of "the wheels on the bus go round and round" we were off. Dirty, tired, still debating the best procedure for the next bog, all were happy our two hour ordeal was over.

Our trip continued on gravel roads, passing depressed areas of attempted grazing. The homes were shacks made of discarded scrap, the animals thin and the people tired looking. Some of the people along the way tried to supplement their meager income by selling craft items and coloured stones.

By the time we made it to the Atlantic Coast we were passing barren sand covered dunes, with only a few desert plants visible. 

Turning south, with the Skeleton Coast to our right we traveled on into Swakopmund via a salt road. Yes you read correctly, the road was made of rock hard salt.

We are ready for a couple of days here so that we can catch up on our communications, try some of the very best seafood around and enjoy the sea breezes.

We have been told...often that it hasn't rained in Swakopmund for four years...it poured last night with lightning and thunder.

                                                     The excitement begins

                            Canadians, Danes and Australians can move mountains

                                     Every project should have observers!!!

                   Notice the "mall". I'm sure they have everything you might need!

                                     Selling semi precious stones on the roadside

                              A recent shipwreck on the turbulent, dangerous coast

                     The famous wharf at Swakopmund on the Skeleton Coast

                  Ready for a seafood treat at a fine restaurant on the Atlantic Coast