Well, blogging has been a challenge so far this trip. If my phone and computer aren’t displaying variations on the message “full functioning will resume when device has cooled to a normal temperature,” then the wind is gusting through our campsite with boxes, bags, and buckets being whisked up and thrown into the bush. In one memorable event, after everything went flying, Richard nobly went into the bush and rescued a box that got stuck on a thorn bush, while I cursed the wind and rushed to weight down anything else that might fly.
We’ve seen a lot of dust devils and had some incredible gusts of wind that you can actually hear approaching before they blow. We’ve had a few curtains of sand as high as our rig, coating our upstairs mattress, sheets, laundry and every nook and shelf with grit. Anything we cooked on the braai became gritty with sand, and our dishes, pots and storage containers always had to be shaken out before use. I got so used to eating my food with sand, I even developed preferences—my least favorite meal with grit was boerwurst sausage; the most tolerable, ramen noodles (probably because the sand sank to the bottom).
And then there’s been the heat. Temperatures have consistently been hotter than they were in 2022 when we camped before. If we had 38 degrees Celsius two years ago, now we had 42. And almost every day throughout February and March, the temperature hit at least 40. I was so lethargic some days (most days) in the Kalahari, I could enjoy the place but I didn’t have the energy to write about it. Thinking just goes by the wayside when it’s that hot. Better to sit with a cold beer in the shade of a thorn tree with feet up and spray bottle handy for a cool off, the birds doing their bounce step to check on us or visit the little water hole Richard would always improvise for them, complete with a rock to perch on. (I did feel a bit bad when our little water hole with all of its chirpy birds attracted a very sizable goshawk that came swooping down. Luckily there were no injuries and peace prevailed, albeit with the goshawk watching over everything from the shade of a nearby tree.)
There also hasn’t been any real rain since we left South Africa in January to cool things off. Marakele (South African National Park) was our big storm, and it’s the only one we’ve had since then. There was an electrical storm in the distance one night at Khutse Game Reserve (I’m afraid of lightning, so Richard agreed to get in the cab with me in case we got struck—seemed safer, but maybe not. It was an uneventful, sleepless night. No rain. Richard even forgave me for the whole sleeping-in-the-cab bit). Once we reached Epupa Falls in Namibia, just a few weeks ago, we got a sprinkling of rain with dramatic winds and thunder, but that’s about it. Throughout our camping in the Kalahari, I would look each day at the sky and wish for one of those dramatic afternoon downpours to cool things a bit. I could see dark clouds, but no rain came, just the wind. I hadn’t realized until I had more access to wifi and the news that we were feeling the scorching heat and drought that have already become national emergencies for Zimbabwe, Zambia, Malawi, Botswana and other countries.
Speaking of extreme weather, we are now cold. And we were really, really cold. We had a temperature change from high 90s Fahrenheit down to overnight lows in the 40s our last night in the Namib Desert a little less than a week ago. Our next campsite and last in Namibia, Mount D’Urban near Helmeringhausen, was freezing, too. The front came through there with a whole day and night of 40mph sustained winds. My glasses now have an ominous crack after I got smacked by one of the many things whipping in the wind—the canvas, the flaps, the door. One of them did it.
We are currently in McDougall’s Bay near Port Nolloth in South Africa, making our way south to Cape Town. We crossed the border out of Namibia yesterday, opting for the small border post near Oranjemund. It was a scenic drive through some of the edges of the Ai-Ais/Richtersveld National Park.
Contrary to so much extreme weather, today is actually beautiful and calm, maybe low 70s Fahrenheit with clear sunny skies and just the seabirds and some fishermen coming and going. So I’m finally sitting outside writing. We found a lovely cottage here on the beach. There’s just a little wind, but not too much. We can see the Atlantic Ocean waves breaking on the rocks that shelter our little bay. Yesterday when we arrived, Richard bought a 20lb yellow fin tuna for us fresh out of the water (less than $1/lb). He caught the fishermen just as they were packing up the day’s catch on the beach. The tuna is delicious. We had it last night with our wine and we’ll be eating it all week! The cottage and sea are so nice, we’ve decided to stay a few extra days.
While we’re here, I’m going to catch you up on all the camping and adventures we’ve had since our last post. There’s a lot, so get ready for a flurry of posts and as many pictures as my cell data will allow. 🙂
