DIRT ROAD TALES

In a Toyota Corona through the old South West Africa

It was July 1973. I had just started my teaching career when a colleague asked me to travel with him through South-West Africa (Namibia). His dad was a retired geologist from the O’Kiep Copper Company and would help us come up with a good itinerary. So we left Potchefstroom early in July. Our gear consisted of a two-man tent, a gas stove and a box full of tinned food, all loaded into a Toyota Corona 1700 Mk 2.When we went to buy the tinned food, Johan made sure that there was a jar of mayonnaise and a big bottle of Old Brown Sherry (the one with the handle on the side). I didn’t know what we would need it for. With overnight rest stops in Upington and Nababeep we arrived a few days later in Port Nolloth, where Johan’s parents had a house. Late in the afternoon Johan dragged a little rowboat to the water and we pulled mussels off the rocks. About a hundred meters from the beach we lowered the nets with the mussels in and took turns scooping water out of the boat with an empty tin. Just when I started to wonder what we were up to (I thought we were going to Namibia?) Johan began lifting the nets. There were loads of crayfish clawing through them! Johan threw the small ones back and we rowed homewards with a dozen or so big boys. When the 44-gallon pot began boiling with seawater, I finally understood what was going on: Once the crayfish had been cooked and cooled, we broke the tails off, peeled them and plonked the whole tail in the jar of mayonnaise.Then we ate until we were crying with pleasure and chased it all down with a bit of OBS (it was July on the West Coast remember?). The next day, we drove through Vioolsdrif/Noordoewer to Ai-Ais with cold crayfish tails for brunch. After the customary drive to the lookout points at the Fish River Canyon – and two flat tyres later – we drove north through Grünau to Hardap Dam.We toured the country with the Corona and the little tent this way, on lekker gravel roads to the kokerboom forest, the real Vingerklip (Mukarob), through Windhoek, en route to Etosha.We slept at Namutoni in a permanent tent with linen and lanterns for R1.75 per night and took the most beautiful wildlife photos (only to discover when we got back that the film had gotten jammed!) And then the games with the Corona started. The road through Outjo and Welwitchia (now Khorixas) was good. It was also still early, and the road map looked promising. But after Twyfelfontein the good gravel road turned into a twin track without any warnings or alternatives.We drove on, because according to the map it was a normal secondary road to Uis, but the road didn’t improve. After this we had to stick to first or second gear, getting stuck in sandy ditches. Late afternoon, when the sun was already low on the horizon (as was the fuel gauge), we finally came across a Damara man with a herd of goats and a shiny comb in his hair. The communication was Babel-esque, but we could finally understand that this was indeed the only road to Uis. If we continued on it, we would eventually reach a farm with the name of Houmoed (“have courage”), he said. How ironic. We pushed the Corona through the last few sandy beds and with a beautiful sunset we arrived at a farm gate with the words: “HOU MOED. No entry, tres- passers will be prosecuted” painted onto a piece of corrugated iron. But there are times in life when you’re willing to brave even prosecution.We opened the gate – with one eye on the sinking sun and the other on the needle of the fuel gauge, now definitely flat on “E”. Two kilometres further we met a man. He didn’t prosecute us, but put some petrol in the car using a hand pump, and showed us how to get to the “Wit Vrou” rock painting at the Brandberg. When we got there, there was just one group of German tourists at the campsite.We were so happy to see other people that we used up our whole Matric-German vocabulary trying to tell them just how delighted we were, and that we were looking forward to our mutual meeting with the “Wit Vrou” the next morning.

I remember this adventure from a time long before Google and GPS. There were no cellphones, no “Reception” to call to let them know you’d be late. Now Damaraland (and the area around it) is a popular destination.You can evaluate lodges online before checking that your 4x4’s jerry cans are full, the emergency wheels are firm and the latest edition of Tracks4Africa is loaded on your GPS. Yes, the latest technology, gear and facilities are wonderful (and in some cases indispensable). But I still long for the days when we adventured in a pale green Corona, pushed it through sand beds and stayed on course alone in an unknown environment on nothing but a bad twin track. And after a day like that, setting up your little tent between the rocks and scorpions and falling asleep on your thin mattress, with the expectation of a new day with new experiences to come on a road that you’ve never travelled.