There are holidays of leisure, and there are vacations which take you to specific points of interest….and then there are exotic adventures of epic proportions. My Namib endurance ride, so called the "Ride to the Sea", by Equitours, was the latter experience in grand scale.
Quite honestly I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. It all sounded great on paper. 8-10 hours in the saddle a day, advanced endurance ride, fast pace, 400 kms from central Namibia to the Atlantic Coast over varied terrain. I knew I had not really pushed myself to my fullest potential on a horse since my West Texas guiding days almost a decade ago. But with my life in transition, I needed the self-confidence of this challenge. So I threw my whole body into the experience head on.
The adventure began immediately at JFK. I quickly discovered my 'non-stop' flight to Johannesburg, actually had a layover in Dakar for refueling. Not able to get off the aircraft in Dakar, my 15 hour flight immediately transformed to a 17 hour flight…so heavily armed with sweet words from Ken, my Ipod with extra battery pack, a good Peter Beard read with lots of photos, and plenty of Benadryl, I settled into my window seat on South Africa Air for the longest flight I have ever taken. Dakar I discovered is a dusty city on a cape in West Africa, Senegal. Regardless of the fact that my body was groggy thinking it was 2:00 a.m., Dakar was facing a new day. The sun was rising as we landed revealing rows of sand blown buildings nestled against the Atlantic. My eyes wanted to close, yet I was irresistibly curious about the exotic city outside. This sun scorched place was set on the sea. I watched men with long narrow boats battling the waves, riding their breaks into the open ocean. Horsemen drove carts along a crescent shaped sandy shoreline. As we ascended, shore became blue ocean, and the white frothy ripples of breakers soon transformed to a blanket of soft endless clouds.
Johannesburg. A forced layover. I settle into a thankfully familiar Holiday Inn. After the chaos of discovering my bags were checked all the way to Windhoek, I think, "no problem, I have been in the same clothes for 24 hours, what's another day?" In dire need of food and a bed, I immediately run to the nearest phone to call Ken with a phone card I picked up at the airport for 100 Rand. Roughly 20 Dollars. I am floored by the fact that one, he answers, and two, it sounds like he is just inches away, and not indeed across oceans and worlds. With his sweet words settled in my heart, a well needed rest and a proper English breakfast in the morning. I am on my way back to the airport. I am ready for Namibia.
Immediately upon landing in the capital of Nambia, Windhoek, I watched a solitary secretary bird promenade along the airstrip and I wasn't 10 minutes in the country before I made a new friend. A tall woman with long black hair taps me on the shoulder in the customs line. "Are you Karla?" Astonished, not expecting anyone to know my name, I confusingly reply, "Yes, how did you know?" "It's the boots", she replys and points down to my dusty packers. "I am Maryke, I am on the ride with you. I spoke to Martina at the Camelthorn Chalets, there was no more vacancy so she put me in your room. I hope that's alright?" Relieved to know someone on the continent of Africa I happily reply, "Of course that's alright!". After passports were inspected and stamped we met up with Richard, another rider in the group and headed to our overnight retreat 45 kms South of Windhoek.
Incredible how life puts two people together in the most remote and unexpected places. Turns out Maryke, and I had much in common. So we bonded. We spent a very idyllic day at the Camelthorn Chalets by the swimming pool surrounded by bogainvilla and camels. That night, had my first taste of oryx. Which I would later be feasting upon on a regular basis once the ride departed. Richard, Maryke, and I were restless and ready for the following morning to head to the ranch so that we could get this epic ride going!
Lumpi and Waldi, third generation Germans, and native Namibians, own a beautiful 650,000 acre ranch 65 kms south of Windhoek right along the foothills of the Hakos Mountain range. As we get oriented we learn that the ranch sits right in the center of the country. With the Kalahari desert and Botswana to the East, and the Namib desert and the Atlantic Coast to the West. They have 10 families living on the ranch. Some which have gone on every trip they have made across the desert for the 15 years they have been outfitters. As our newly aquainted group of 10 riders sat at the long table on the porch, at the ranch house, after a "sundowner" toast up on the highest point on a granite hill a short walk from the house, the generator turned on and under the dim lights Waldi told the story of how their outfitting business, Reit Safaris, began. Apparently on a dare, someone asked them if it would be possible to make the same ride that their great grandfather made from Central Namibia to the Atlantic Coast on a horse. After much ado, and indeed making the trip, the local newspaper wrote an article about their journey. The news spread like wildfire. Of course more people wanted to have this 14 day adventure, so they took them. And the people came, more and more until Waldi and Lumpi, completely broke due to a severe drought, with livestock literally passing out in the prairie, decided to start charging the 'guests' for the trip. Next thing they knew, they were booked solid and it became a lifestyle for them, raising 3 children all working together on the trail! The youngest "Tinky" still helps out, they even figured out how to outfit camels. Through trial and error trained some young camels, and Lumpi built a camel saddle based on a saddle he saw at the Swakopmund museum. Now Waldi takes the horse treks with her crew and Lumpi takes care of the camel trips. Apparently because Waldi likes to move fast and swift with supplys following by lorry and truck. Lumpi prefers the slow pace and the ruggedness of packing everything by camel not needing to be near a road at sundown. As we sat on the porch folded up in the warm African night, our tummys full from a hearty meal of oryx, cabbage and potatoes, rhubarb and custard, I could not help but be impressed with this families extraordinary life. Later that evening, Waldi introduced the ride as one of the most challenging in the world. She also went over the route and horses, assigning each of us a horse which we would ride for the next 10 days. She would have 4 extra loose horses following us the whole time in case one horse went lame or got a sore back. I was assigned a ½ Arab, born and trained on the ranch. Ironically with a Mexican name "Carumba!"
Next morning our group was ready to get started with the trial ride. We were introduced to the crew, Naftalie, Federick, and Mari who would be joining us, then introduced to our horses. All bay geildings except for Richards horse a grey buckskin named "Metallic". Ironic, for Richard also was an 'only' ~ the only guy on this trip of nine women! We were to ride Western tack with snaffle bits. So considering I was the only American with a group of S. Africans, Germans, and British all being accustomed to English tack, I was quickly "employed" to help and assist everyone with saddling up their horse. So I quickly taught Etje and Katya, two German girls, the "cowboy knot" and after quite some time finally were at a point to mount. However, I discovered Waldi never mounts her riders at camp/ranch, she always had us walk 5-10 minutes away before getting up. Once up of course stirrups were adjusted and we were off on our "trial ride" to prove to Waldi that we did indeed have some idea how to control a horse at any gait. This is the thing about horses. They literally are a potential bomb. At any moment they can go off…and in true horse form a seemingly quiet walk ride immediately transformed into terror when Maryke's horse "Nugget" who was three horses down, bolted past the second and first horse at a dead run. Waldi explained if this happened she wanted us all to remain calm and continue at a slow pace, that the frightened horse at some point would realize its alone and stop. Yes, this is true in theory, however Waldi found out Maryke was a horse trainer so she gave her a challenging horse, granted he had never quite done anything like this before…but Maryke was soon out of sight. Being so close to the river bottom we all thought she could steer him into the sand and get him to stop. Apparently he didn't, later Maryke told me she had his head completely turned into her left leg, and he was still running full speed until he reached a cattle guard and that was it. Sudden stop, and over the head. Maryke flew off onto her shoulder into a thorn bush. When Waldi and Saskia, her 'horse girl' (as they call wranglers in Namibia) caught up to her, Maryke was full of thorns and flat on her back. Linda from S. Africa and Waldi took care of her while she instructed Saskia to continue with the ride. So we are tentatively following Saskia, who was a new hire, so not knowing where to go followed a trail up a hill which dead ended into a fence line, we backtracked down again to the river bed where we were instructed to lope our horses individually. Carumba, the hard headed dude horse that he was refused to leave the group, as I humbly kicked his sides, he only moved forward a few steps, finally with much persistence and wishing I had a pair of spurs, he got the message and off we went, loping down the arroyo. Soon to follow were the other riders, one at a time. We passed the test. We were to depart the next day upon the longest, hottest, and most challenging ride of our lives.
It didn't help that upon our return to the ranch, that Maryke was still there, propped up on the sofa, with a t-shirt tied around her to support her arm, still waiting for the ambulance to arrive. She was in excruciating pain, and was beginning to go into shock….Lumpi stroked her forehead and offered comforting words, while I ran for my comforter on my bed to warm her up. When the paramedics did arrive, they stuck the longest and fattest needle in her arm, she cried out in pain. They immediately gave her morphine, so that they could move her. She mercifully passed out, and they stabilized her quickly and were off. Apparently they did not arrive to the hospital in Winhoek for another three hours, for the ranch road was so long and full of washboard bumps that they were in fear of injuring her neck further. Fortunately, Maryke had private health care through her husband, who is a pilot for South African Air, so she was in good hands. I understand the public health care in Africa is a bit compromised. I found out later that Maryke, broke her scapula from top to bottom, broke three ribs, and dislocated her shoulder, tearing some tendons in the process. She was flown back home to Durban, S. Africa the next day. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well that night. Waldi told us this is the first time in 15 years that someone got injured on the trial ride. This didn't comfort me, as I lie awake in bed with my new roommate Heidi, a Finnish lawyer who lived in the U.K. I moved over to the living room, tried to calm myself down, listened to the crickets, walked out from the porch for the first time, amazed at the abundance of stars….my head full of apprehension of the unknown journey ahead. I had no idea what to expect. But I was certain. It was going to be a challenge, and I was determined to face this challenge head on.
Next morning, we wake up to a rainstorm. In Namibia, one of the driest places on earth. According to Waldi, another first in 15 years. Never had it ever rained the first day of a trip. So there we stood, dressed in our riding clothes, scratching our heads, waiting for the word. Waldi's hands were anxious, and they encouraged Waldi to go now, not to wait. So we tacked up horses, and begin a journey West which would take us 10 days across the Namib toward the Atlantic Coast. Waldi had me lead one of the loose horses until we got far enough from the ranch so that he wouldn't get any ideas to head back home. This was pretty tough, for we departed at a trot, and being used to Buttermilks responsiveness, Carumba was fighting my reigning, so there I was, trying to post, lead a horse, and navigate around thorny brush on a horse that didn't neck reign! Somehow I made it until Waldi stopped and we took halters off and the loose horses were free to fall in with the group. Usually up in front. The rain was off and on, and never a steady downpour, so it was manageable. We were told that this is the most grass Waldi has ever seen on the ranch, for they had received steady rain. I was surprised at how lush the bush was as we continued our pace at a trot towards the Hakos mountains, through the highlands. It took us most of the day to actually reach the border of the ranch, then we continued on private property. Because of all the forage, we spotted oryx, kudu, zebra, wildebeest, hornbills, warthogs, and baboons sitting on fenceposts, scratching their backs, watching us pass as if we were some kind of strange primordial creature that they did not fear, yet were intensely curious about. We trotted until my teeth rattled, and loped over double tracks around very mean thorn trees. Incredible, I thought the terrain in West Texas was tough. But if you get hooked on any thorn bush or tree in Africa, it doesn't let go, and racks you until your shirt, or skin tears open!! Fortunately, and much to my fellow riders inquiry, I was wearing my buckaroo chinks from Wyoming. They had never seen such chaps, and after riding through the thorns, and their English britches were all torn to threads, they weren't questioning my choice of Western attire anymore!
We were all quite a site, hovering under the tarp, looking out into the lush misty highlands ahead, soaked to the bone. The crew were busy trying to light a fire in the steady rain for our dinner, and it was all we could do but stand there exhausted and stunned from our first ride towards the Namib desert. We were fed a little pot of farmers sausage, once again game from Lumpis hunting trips. As we ate, Naftalie and Federik were busy trying to set up tents in the dark they haven't set up in years, against rain and wind. We were given our cots, our bedrolls somehow remained mostly dry, and much to my dismay, I realized the tent I was to share with Heidi was like a waterbed. Somehow there was a river flowing underneath our tent, and the sides were not waterproof. It didn't help that Heidi tells me, as I lay with my bag between my legs to keep it from soaking, that with the money we spent on this trip, we could be getting a massage, and a fancy gourmet dinner at a 5-star hotel in Indonesia right now. All I could say is, "yeah your right, "tent- mate" (as she began to call me), but where is the adventure in that? So, cold and wet with our sleeping bags pulled up to our chins, our heavy eyelids closed, at last succumbing to a very long restless, and ironically damp night in the Namibian highlands!
Waldi had built up the second day of the ride as the most difficult. Not the longest, but the most treacherous. Mainly because once we headed out, there would be no chance to make it to a road to meet up with the trucks the entire day. As Heidi and I wrung out our things, the first sentence of the day came from Katja, saying "its too early for blood!" as she lay wounded from one of the many thorn bushes around us. Waldi came up to me and asked in her sweet German accent, if I wanted to ride in the lorry today, because if I felt I could not make the ride, there was no turning back, and they would have "to bring me back dead". So on that note, and a most uncomfortable night of wet and rain, I made my way to my horse, and saddled up. After we walked for about 10 minutes away from camp, we were up on our horses and off at a trot. West Texas really prepared me for this day, for much of the terrain was like being in Terlingua again. Rugged, jagged rock cliffs, dusty craggy arroyos, and trails of rock and stone. Mid day we made it to the base of the Hakos, after gingerly walking over kilometers of stones piled upon themselves like some cobblestone road gone ary. I was shocked when Waldi instructed us to dismount, to lead our horses over the steepest part of the crossing. Resentful, I did as told, hoping Carumba would not overtake me at the steepest incline, as I attempted to balance myself on rocks wearing my packers. Amazingly enough, he paused every time I needed to pause for breath. Simply freezing, apparently appreciating the moment to take a look around and take a heavy sigh himself, balancing himself precariously on this trail of jagged rock. This experience gave me the chance to really appreciate my horse for the first time. It also was a moment of bonding, I really felt the two of us were working together, to get to our destination. At the top, we paused for an apple break, and took the amazing view of the valley below in. It wasn't until we were down below into a dry river bed that I finally felt I was in Africa, as we spotted leopard tracks in the sand. A few minutes down the arroyo, we walked upon the leopards fresh kill, a zebra. He was still mostly intact, which told us that we probably scared the leopard off of its kill and he was still around. I asked Waldi if I could dismount and take a photo, and she reluctantly allowed it telling the rest of the group, that "only Karla may dismount, for she is an experienced wrangler of many years, and can jump back on her horse if the leopard returns!" As I took the shot, I couldn't help but see myself as prey, with the possibility that he could jump upon my back at any time. Quickly I mounted and off we went, underneath a canopy of thorn brush.
We made it to camp right at sundown. Naftalie was busy heating up a bucket of water for each of us for a hot shower. This contraption, like many, was a clever welding creation of Lumpis. Two showers, were mounted to the Toyota. Above each shower head, a container for a bucket of water was heated by flames fueled by propane. With a little canvas shower curtain around us, and a lawn chair in front of each little stall. We could pile our dusty clothes on the chair, jump in and have a nice sometimes too hot shower! I soon learned that we always made it to camp just at sundown, and once the sun went down. It got cold. As we progressed into the Namib, temperatures rose. The highest point was 106 degrees in the shade. However when the sun went down it could get as low at 50 degrees. Showering quickly after the ride was key. So it was always a rush to unsaddle, let Carumba roll in the sand, brush off, tie up, feed, AND then get myself a cool drink. Grab my bedroll which was unloaded and laid out with the others on a tarp. Grab a cot, make my bed, grab my stuff, and run for the showers! Waldi would not feed us until we were all showered. She ran a tight ship, and it was highly efficient! Horses and guests were well cared for, but that doesn't mean we were highly exhausted by the end of the day…….
Of course I delighted in sleeping under a blanket of Namibian stars. With the rain behind us, I only stayed in a tent one night. The rest of the trip, I lay my cot out in the desert, with only the cover of endless stars, and the distant sounds of braying zebra, and laughing hyena. I could count up to five shooting stars before I finally allowed myself to drift into sleep. As I lay flat on my back, with my covers up to my chin, my eyes were wide. Trying to take in the Milky Way, the Southern Cross, and immeasurable stars. My sleep was deep, and if I woke up, I would wait for another shooting star, and close my eyes again, allowing myself to drift back into exotic nights of extraordinary constellations.
Its one thing to anticipate pain, but to experience pain is something different entirely. The next day I got up, saddle and muscle sore by sheer force of will. My anticipation began to ease as I became more comfortable with my horse. Of course, all of that dissipated after Waldi came up to me saying that Carumba had a back sore, and I was to ride Doolittle today. My eyes began to roll over as I heard her voice in the distance saying "he bucks at the beginning of a lope, but just pull up his head and kick him into the run and you will be alright…….." Shellshocked, from Marykes fate, I looked her right in the eye and told her. "Waldi, I cannot get hurt in Africa". And she looked me right in the eye and said, "I have watched you and you are an experienced rider, you can handle him. You are going to be just fine."
New day, new horse. We ride past table mountain through scrub to the bushland and on to the red sands of Rooisand (red sand in German). In the distance between far away mountains, we see the flatness of the moon valley. It seems foreboding as the heat becomes overwhelming and the distance becomes very real. I am awestruck that at some point, I will cross that desert, and put my feet into the waters of the Atlantic. Doolittle did exactly as Waldi predicted, attempting to buck with me, determined, I pulled his head up, kicked, and off we went. I later discovered that his lope was much smoother and controlled than Carumbas high headed charges. So Doolittle and I continued forward, trotting past herds of zebra, and flocks of lovebirds. Over and around far reaching thorn trees under the desert sun. Towards the end of the day, with my brains scrambled, and my eyes boiling in my head, Waldi turns to us to get ready for a gallop!! She instructs us to give our horses their head, and let them go! That whoever passes her, has to buy the farewell dinner in Swakopmund, and that we will be galloping down a hill, but not to worry, for there are no holes. I look down at resilient desert plants dotting the red sand thinking, is she for real? Waldi's horse Ben, was pulling a Buttermilk. Knowing what was ahead, he was hopping and rearing to go. She turns to say, "are you all ready?" and it is all I can say before I gather up my reigns to say, "ready as we will ever be…" and off we fly like exploding cannons, down a bank of red sand at a flat out gallop. Doolittle digs in deep and plunges downhill. My first thought was of course, "I am completely out of control, and going to fall off, seriously injuring myself". Its an interesting evolution to reason at full flight. But soonafter there came a moment when I let my fear dissolve into the wind screaming in my ears. I told myself to trust my horse, he doesn't want to fall as much as I don't. Things I have told my guests for years. I let go. And it was otherworldly. I relaxed into the speed. I am in full flight. Red sand is flying in my face, so I slightly turn him, and much to my surprise, he responds, clearing a path for the both of us, and all riders fan out side by side at a fast run. I make it next to Anneli, and she is leaning over in the two point, perfectly balanced, looking at me, her mouth frozen into a wide grin. We are neck to neck, looking, reaching, flying, and Doolittle advances, and then it is only me. With Waldi in the distance up ahead. I take off my hat, feel the Namibian wind in my hair, let my arm straight out, the reigns loose. I think to myself, I am absolutely free.
Little did I know at the time, there was an epic moment ahead of me. The following day, we headed out over the savannahs, full of game due to the rains. Kudu, zebra, and springbok, grazed along the rolling hills upon ever so slight tufts of protein enriched grass. I am back on my fast Arabian, Carumba, who has followed along with us without a rider for three days, so he is fresh and his back fully healed. He was ready to go, and fought with me. He wanted to fly without control. Waldi started out pretty fast, and Carumba protested my reigning by pulling up his head to the sky. So I was pretty imbalanced when she took off again at yet another gallop. She stopped short to help someone in the back, when Etje, one of the German girls, rushed passed me on Kalahari. Carumba would not have it, and off we went, racing nose to nose. I hung on, and noticed a herd of Oryx ahead of us. Surprised, they also took off at a run, Etje and I were running so fast that we soon caught up to them, literally upon their heels, and eventually dividing the herd in half. Oryx were on either side of us. At that point, I stopped worrying about holding Carumba back and gave him his head, half fascinated by the remarkable experience unfolding before me, and half exhilarated from being so out of control. Finally, we pulled our horses back, made a big circle, to see Waldi coming up from the rear. She gently reprimanded us. Telling us it was permissible this time because there were no holes, but next time! There would be no next time! For she has seen horses make cartwheels over their riders. Needless to say, we didn't fly past Waldi again.
I wait until the very last moment before I retire my body to look up at the stars to read Ken's words to me each night. He has written small notes, with big love on handmade paper, bound in leather for the 18 days which we will be apart. This night was the most poignant. For it was as if he was with me, seeing through my eyes, the day which was before me, as he wrote:
Another Day Without Her Love
Red, desiccated and slightly sweet,
you could mistake her eyes
for air-dried tomatoes.
She's been stitched
to the saddle for days,
not knowing
where she's going
or how long she'll be gone.
The rhythms have taken
her mind now.
The hooves of course,
but also the creaking saddle,
the head bobbing in front of her,
and the horizon
on a trampoline.
She hears things,
or at least thinks she does.
The wind, or
his voice wrapping around her
whispers,
"It's okay baby,
each step brings you
closer to me."
k.
Yes, somehow he sees the lunar expanse of The Moon Valley before me. I am indeed sun drenched and my eyeballs burn when I close them, for my body temperature is so high. I am mesmerized, by this line before me which divides sky and land. Federik leads today, and we walk more. We ride past giant primal scaley grey fingertips, reaching out of the sand. Yes, Ken was right. My horses' head bobs hypnotically, before me, and I am reeling from the fierce temperature. Until I see a sidewinder whisk under a rock, or a running stone, which turns out to be a distant ostrich. One of the S. African ladies, Yolande, has taken to riding in the Lorry due to her sore back. She looks out for us right before sunset, towards the mirage on the horizon. She tells us that it is such an impressive sight to see us manifest from out of nowhere like ethereal primordial creatures. We are the mirage. Somehow crossing and surviving this unforgiving moonscape. But really it is she which is the mirage. A distant, out-of- focus speck, which turns out to be Richard, Waldi's young hand, running towards us with bundles of colorful halters, so that we may lead our horses back into camp.
This morning we ask Waldi what to expect from todays ride. "How will it be Waldi?" We inquire. She replies with one word. "Fast."
I am filled with adrenaline, and anticipation. I know she is true to her word. She did not disappoint. As soon as we mounted, we were off at a trot, and a controlled lope. For a while we were loping with the trucks as Yolande waved to us, passing and leaving us in the dust. We made a quick turn away from the road, and we were off. These are some of the longest and fastest runs I have ever experienced. Yet in this terrain, wide open, gravel like hard packed sand, and no holes, it was much easier to let go. At one point Waldi had us all stand side by side, reaching out to each others shoulders, setting us off in a cavalry charge! She kept asking us after each break to allow our horses to catch their breath if we were ready for another gallop, but before we could respond, we were off again! Absolutely exhilarating, and you could see that even Waldi delighted in this. We rode past ancient welwitschia. A resilient prehistoric desert plant unique to this place, which sprays out large rich green leaves, with conifer bulbs inside. Male and female, these plants are thousands of years old. Later, the spring bok were dipping their heads at us as we rode past, and for a while kept up with us, running parallel, at a safe distance, holding true to their name. Little nimble, elegant antelope, springing into mid air, being launched by tiny delicate limbs which were tough as the strongest taunt filament. We frightened a mother ostrich off of her nest, revealing large opalescent white eggs shining in the desert sun. Unhappy with us, she flapped her wings and moved her head up and down, warning us to depart.
That night I ate well. Perfectly marinated Oryx. Lots of cabbage and potatoes. Full and happy tummy, I dream of the ocean.
After crossing the The Kuiseb Canyon, The Tinkas, Tumos and Welwitscia plains, we drop down into The Swakop river bed. Which is of course completely dry. In a spray of dust we move forward, loping around rocks, and cedar brush. The cliff walls around us hold abstract layers of quartz. I imagine large giants with brushes fervently painting fine lines along the massive rock walls which channel us to the Atlantic. Somehow I can sense it, I can taste it. The ocean ahead of us.
We wake up in the Swakop river bed, covered in dew. The moisture of the ocean is upon us. These delicate and drenching drops are what keep hardy desert creatures alive, such as beetles, and the desert cameleon. I now have new saddle sores developing upon old ones, I am in pain, but determined to ride to the sea today. Federik leads us, and Waldi must have given him a time limit for he has us running through the riverbed at a steady quick pace. The dust is blinding and choking. I am crunching the grit of the sand thrown into the air by horses hooves. Its incredibly hot. By now I have learned to meditate through the pain, and focus on my hands holding the reigns upon the upside down "V" of my horses neck. I find it too painful to navigate my horse, so I allow him to follow Federik as we lope down this endless arroyo. Every rhythm, stings my now open wounds, my knees and ankles burn with fatigue. But I know I am close now, and can manage these distractions. It is now my mantra. "Must. Get. To. Ocean." We are at the base of the red iron oxide Namib desert dunes. Hot wind sings in my ears as I follow a safe distance behind Federik at a lope. At one point, Federiks horse takes a sudden left, and Carumba follows too quickly to the left running upon the surface of a large slick flat rock. As if in a slow motion film, I feel his feet come out from under him, as he scrambles. I am thinking not now, not so close….and much to my astonishment, he rights himself, and leaps forward. I catch a concerned glance from Federik, who sees I am still upright, and continues loping ahead. Dunes pass by in a blurr, and we suddenly reach a small hill and like a dream, there it was. The surf of the Atlantic. We did not see it until the very last moment. And there to greet us with a champagne toast, were Waldi, Sarah, Mari, and Naftalie, cheering us on.
I made it. My ankles on fire. My knees stinging. Wind burned, and sun saturated. My heart full of this remarkable life affirming experience. I did it. I rode 400 kilometers across Namibian desert, to touch the waters of the Atlantic Coast.
Exhausted, and covered in dirt and dust, we rode in the trucks as Naftalie and Sarah trailered the horses to a fine dressage stable in Swakopmund, where they were treated to individual stalls with plenty of food and water. Each of us brushed our horses to say goodbye in our own way. Now back in civilization after not seeing a town, airplane, or person outside of our group for the last ten days, I was more than ready to say goodbye to Carumba. What was in my heart now was to get back to Ken. Being so out of contact with him was a challenge. His words gave me strength each night, however now I was ready to hear his voice. So when Waldi dropped us off at our individual bungalow, which I was to share with my "tent mate" Heidi, I happily offered her the shower, as I was off on foot, (how strange it felt) to find a calling card and a telephone. Completely covered in dirt and sweat, absolutely spent, and slightly dehydrated, I made my way to a local laundrette, where I immediately purchased an apricot juice and a card and called Ken. Love and amazement surged in my heart as we made our immediate connection. Words compressed together in an attempt to reveal what I had experienced in a gravely short amount of time. But even though I was ready to be transported back to his side, there was still one thing I had to do before I left Namibia. That was to fly over Sossusvlei.
This proved to be no easy task. I spent my only day in Swakopmund trying to book a small aircraft to take me over Sossusvlei, which is one of the largest and highest concentrations of sand dunes in the world. However, since it was last minute and I was solo, it was challenging. I opted not to join the group to ride bareback on the beach. Personally, I had my fill of riding. I needed an overview of what we just barely touched upon. The dunes. Sossusvlei's borders lie South of the Kuiseb Canyon. For some reason the sands do not cross the canyon. We rode North of the Kuiseb, so I experienced very little of the infamous Namib sand dunes. I felt I had experienced Namibia intimately, on horseback, but in order for me to have a complete picture of where I was, I needed to see this endlessly astonishing place from a much higher perspective.
It was not until the next day that I was able to book my flight with three other Germans who I did not know. I took a chance for the only bus for four days back to Windhoek was to leave at 12:00. My flight would land at 11:30. However, the outfitters assured me, that with my bags in their shuttle van, they would literally pick me up straight upon landing, to the Mainliner bus to Windhoek. Luckily, I had Linda and Yolande from the ride taking the same bus. I told them to delay the bus driver as much as possible if I was a little late. In my mind it was settled. I would fly over Sossusvlei, but I was also going to catch my bus to Windhoek.
The flight was breathtaking. We soared above the Kuiseb Canyon, where the border of Sossusvlei begins its endless expanse of red sand dunes. There in a sea infinite red, were lone oryx, and ostrich. Dunes rose to crests of elegant curves, outlining the graceful peaks of windblown everchanging cornices of sand. We reached a point called "the wall" where the sands of Sossusvlei literally fall into the Atlantic Ocean. There were miles of this, until the seashore flattened out enough for pods of sealions to bask in the early morning sun. Later we flew over brackish areas where flocks of flamingos looked like tiny pink dots embellishing the already spectacular landscape below us. Close to our return, from the sky, I saw the mouth of the Swakop river bed, where our group made our epic journey to the sea….and like clockwork, upon landing, I was whisked away to meet up with Yolande and Linda at the Mainliner stop. Relieved, they asked me about my flight as we boarded the bus.
Driving back to Windhoek was surreal. What took us ten days only took four hours by bus. As I watched sleepily outside the window, dunes turn to gravel sand, and sand to bush, and bush to scrub, and scrub to grasslands, I couldn't help but think, yes, I know what that smells like. I know what that feels like. I know what that sounds like, and I know what that tastes like…..
I left Africa with a heavy heart. Not knowing when I would return with Ken, to experience more of its wonders. I know I have barely scratched the surface of the inexhaustible mystery of this extraordinary continent. So as I climbed the outside steps to board my aircraft, I hesitated for a moment. I looked out and inhaled deeply, the dry, arid air of Namibia. I gave pause there for a moment looking out to the horizon of bushland paying homage to the vast and humbling expanses which I now know intimately. But there is so much more I thought…..Etosha National Park, Damaraland, The Kalahari, The Skeleton Coast…and that's just Namibia…..yet even so, I have experienced infinite wonder in my epic crossing of the Namib. I have sat upon my horse in silent reverence before eternal expanses of space, threatening to consume me, and I not only survived, I thrived. I have pushed myself past limits, which I have discovered to be boundless.
After achieving this challenge, my heart rests calm. For I know there are yet more exciting adventures ahead. I have now discovered the world is indeed within reach….. and all possibilities are endless.....
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chipper
