SPIRIT OF ADVENTURE
A special family holiday sees Fiona Armstrong and her clan exploring the raw and unspoiled beauty of Namibia
Fiona Armstrong marks the Chief's big birthday with an incredible African adventure
Three thousand kilometres and two flat tyres. Temperatures in the high forties. Sunburn and sand in places you wouldn’t think possible. Tree rats on the balcony. A large striped-leg spider in the bed and a porcupine that joins us for dinner.
Yes, the chief and I and Darling Daughter have been on a Big Holiday – and it is one that marks a big birthday. I am sworn to secrecy about the MacGregor’s exact age. But some of you may remember his fiftieth.
What the hell. Sixty is the new forty. And, let’s face it, he does look incredibly youthful. Then that’s what comes of living with me…
But back to our trip. Namibia is ten times the size of Scotland, and it contains half the number of people. This fascinating and unspoiled land is a spectacular mix of desert, coast, mountain and game reserves.
Windhoek is the capital, a place that until last year boasted the title of cleanest city in Africa. You will look in vain to find a discarded cigarette stub here. Indeed, the country’s president has been known to announce that instead of going to work that day, everyone will pick up litter instead.
Windhoek is an efficient and well-planned place, but then its foundations were laid out by the Germans. South African rule followed before, three decades ago, Namibia became its own country and the name of the main drag was proudly changed from Kaiser Street to Independence Avenue.
From here we travel west to the desert. And this is
where the chief is at his happiest. In another life my husband should have been an explorer, immersing himself in sun, sand and solitude, while occasionally venturing forth to photograph brick-red sand dunes and scorched earth.
So whilst Lawrence of Arabia does his own thing, DD and I relax in the lodge. We read books and try to keep calm and carry on because things are really hotting up and the old-fashioned ceiling fans are not doing the business.
Sweaty and red-faced, it is a relief to get back into the air-conditioned car and drive north in search of sea breezes. Our next destination is a salubrious-sounding place called the Skeleton Coast.
Again, there are millions of acres of rock and sand whilst an ominous sign by a dusty track warns of potholes. Plenty of practise back at home with that one.
We motor along and basking along the sea front are tens of thousands of seals. Dotted among the cream-coloured dunes, meanwhile, are the remains of wrecked ships. This was once a treacherous place for seafarers, a cruelly beautiful spot that was once called the Land God Made in Anger. However, the accommodation more than comforts stressed travellers. Shipwreck Lodge may be in the middle of nowhere, yet fine cuisine and elegant rooms await. A memorable barbecue on the beach follows. Plus a thrilling drive along a dry river bed in search of wildlife.
We move on, this time to a game reserve where we see four members of the Big Five – elephant, rhino, lion, cape buffalo. Only the leopard eludes us but that barely matters. Whether we’re watching a family of giraffes drink at the water hole or taking a balloon ride at dawn, it is a great adventure in a stunning country.
Yet as we come to leave here is an unwelcome reminder of home. We buy two carved bone key rings from a man selling trinkets – and he is keen to talk. ‘What about this pressit? What is that about?’ ‘Pressit, pressit? Yes, the key rings will probably be given as presents.’
‘No pressit. Mrs May and pressit! Why can they not agree? People should work together.’
Quite. You heard it in Africa…
“This cruelly beautiful spot was once called the Land God Made in Anger