Weekend Argus (Saturday Edition)
FROM THE DUNES TO THE SAFARIS
From the dunes to the safari drives, Swakopmund is not a ‘mini Cape Town’
IT APPEARS from the distance and runs towards the watering hole. Then it stops. Then it’s off running again. Then it stops once more.
This time, I see what passes for a mischievous grin on its face as it takes off with a measured run that is part gallop and part bounce.
A group of us are sitting silently in a game drive vehicle, puzzled but amused. A lone hyena sauntering to find water on a blazing hot day at the Etosha National Park should not be cause for amusement.
Except the hyena was making its way to a place that was surrounded by a tower of giraffes.
We didn’t know whether the animals would quench their thirst harmoniously as though they were rehearsing for the Circle of Life, or if it would be WWE: The Wild Edition.
Although they were cautious to not crane their necks too low while the hyena was present, the giraffes let the hyena drink. That was a pleasant surprise.
And that is what characterised my four-day trip to Namibia.
At OR Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg, a fellow passenger I sat next to on the bus headed to a very tiny plane asked where I was going. I did not give him the blank stare that is on your face right now. Instead, I informed him I was landing in Walvis Bay and making my way to Swakopmund to stay at the luxurious Strand Hotel.
“Nice,” he exclaimed. “You’re going to mini Cape Town!” I politely smiled and secretly hoped I wouldn’t be met with subtle classism and water restrictions. On touching down in Walvis Bay, I was pleasantly surprised to find a quiet – dare I throw in a cliché and say sleepy – town with sand dunes as similar as finger prints on one hand stretching beyond what my eyes could see.
Yay, I thought, not like Cape Town. We drove past the famous Dune 7 – the highest in Namibia at a soaring 383m.
The weather began to change from blazing to moody as we neared Swakopmund but on the drive, our hostess served up some hot tea. She pointed to one of the holiday homes lining the street and told us Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie stayed there. In happier times, probably.
At the peaceful The Strand Hotel, my room overlooked palm trees
and the sea and an inviting breeze wafted in from the balcony. Through French sliding doors, a quaint but modern bathroom was hidden. After a long day of travelling, prompt room service and the most succulent oysters I’ve had in my life, I looked at my watch and it was clear: it was beer o’clock.
Luckily, on the ground floor of the hotel is The Swakopmund Brewing Company, whose tagline is The Home of Namibian Craft Beers. A tasting commenced where I was told the darker the beer, the stronger it is. The drinks were complemented by German cuisine.
The next day, we wandered back into Walvis Bay very early in the morning. I’d slipped out of my sandals into my sneakers as the sky threatened a drizzle. Once in the bay, we sought out a catamaran cruise but wound up on a small boat driven by a larger-than-life captain.
He claimed to know most of the ravenous pelicans by name – one was Gaga, another was named Nelson. The large birds flew on to the boat, with one relieving itself on the top level when it became clear a European tourist would not share her sherry with it. There was a toddler on the boat who cried the entire time and even the sight of the serene Atlantic bottlenose dolphins would not soothe him.
My ears were grateful to get back into the car and drive out to Sandwich Harbour for an adventurous drive on the most breathtaking dunes – which shoot up to between 80m and 120m. The scenery is absolutely beautiful. On one side was the calm sea, on the other were the dunes and in the middle, where we drove, a magenta pathway. I was told the colour comes from oxidised minerals.
Careful to not be found outside the car by hyenas, jackals, springbok, oryx or ostriches in the delta, we picked up oyster shells. For good luck. Or a kitsch ashtray. Then we were allowed to walk up a 25m dune and the sand felt soft and warm to the toes. The panoramic view was awe-inspiring.
A lunch that included delicious Lorentz Natural chips that all South African stores should stock invited a jackal to the party. We ended the drive on a viewpoint called Kodak and obviously took postcard-perfect pictures.
The next day, we made our way to the high-end Mokuti Lodge in Etosha. The most pleasantly surprising thing about that six-andhalf-hour drive was that there were plenty of signs with a tree on them. That means you can stop where you see a sign, set up a picnic and rest on your journey.
That would be a recipe for robbery in South Africa – or at least that’s how our crime stats and reality will make you feel.
Plus it was furnace-hot. While being shown to the newly built, stunning rooms at the lodge, bontebok grazed on the lawn and squirrels hurried past us like they had an appointment somewhere.
The lodge was perfect for downtime but if you absolutely must work out, there is a compact gym with a zebra cover over a cycle machine.
I’ll deal with the calories at home. By 6.30pm, the sun still feels fiery but we’re sitting on a picturesque private runway, eating biltong and instead of an aeroplane, we’re waiting on the sun to go down. The friendly staff tell me Trey Songz stayed here three years ago and as they begin to tell me about Charlie Bowman “or something”, there is no time to ask if they mean Chadwick Boseman. Wakanda can wait. The sun is too beautiful to spend another moment talking.
On the final day at the quiescent Mokuti Lodge, we enter the Etosha National Park through the Namutoni gate and see that scene with the hyena and 21 giraffes. But the most endearing moment comes during a five-course meal that takes place after a relaxing massage.
Chef Brian and the attentive lodge staff serve us cuisine that includes chilli poppers, a biltong salad, stuffed chicken breast, game loin, chocolate swiss roll, mango cheesecake and prawns so good I ate some off another person’s plate.
But the best part is when Chef Brian tells us that the first time iconic South African hip hop group, Prophets of da City came to Namibia, they stayed at his home. Will he tell us his former rap name?
“Maybe when you return to Namibia,” he chuckles.
I have no doubt I will be back.