Day 3 Ai – Ais to Namib desert Lodge (466 Km)
While repacking the morning after a great time at Ai –Ais, I had managed to cargo net the first bag with all my camping equipment on to the back of donkey, but I needed to move him because he was becoming unstable in the soft sand on the centre stand and I couldn’t finish packing. So still just in my shorts & slop’s I hopped on to move him to the harder surface of the road a few feet away.
The F.U.F (fuck up fairies), who had been helping me pack all morning deciding this would be the perfect opportunity to bestow a decent dollop of humiliation upon my fine person, by suggesting to donkey that it would be a great time to roll in the sand.
Front wheel dug in and I went a tumbling, the hooter choosing to lodge itself against the tank bag, bleating like a stabbed pig and notifying the entire campsite within earshot of my untimely dismount. This as a singular event would have succeeded in been embarrassing enough, however the F.U.F, been in an unusually benevolent mood this morning, made donkey so heavy, with half loaded baggage, that I came within a nanometer of a strain induced rectal prolapse in my attempt’s to lift him.
A portly German gentleman, (who had just given his wife the Heimlich maneuver, after she gagged on her morning bratwurst out of shock from the 3000 decibel BMW hooter eviscerating itself mere meters from her chair), came waddling over with the most spotless white socks reflecting the morning sun through the straps of his Jesus sandals. He pointed to my right leg, which was bleeding from around the shin bone from the after effects of the rasping it had just received from the foot peg and attempted to assist me in lifting donkey… Unsuccessfully .We recruited the garbage man doing his morning rounds & righted the poor beast.
I departed the camp site seriously rattled, because I had come to the sobering realization that if I binned the bike I would never lift it by myself. In retrospect it is amusing to me how big a deal this issue was to me on this particular day & I found myself constantly repeating “just take it easy & concentrate”. Later in the story I reveal why I now find my state of mind on that day so amusing.
The savage cold & insane winds were lying in wait & ambushed donkey & I the instant we drove out of the comforting embrace of the hills around Ai – Ais. I turned north onto the C37 from the C10 towards the fish river Canyon view site.
The fish river certainly took no prisoners when it scoured its way through that vast wilderness of rock that is the breathtakingly beautiful fish river canyon.
I heard someone comment at the view site how this view makes them feel small & insignificant.
I pondered this statement on many occasions during my ride and I was overwhelmed every time, by how this timeless & majestic wilderness minimizes only the relevance of all the mundane & insignificant problems I justified as valid in my life.
It invoked in me a truth, not that we are small & insignificant, quite the contrary, but rather how small & insignificant the problems in our lives are when viewed in the context of this immense & unbounded wilderness.
The warmest spot around for this bird who I found sleeping on my helmet
And then I promptly scared him away trying to get another photo
From Seeheim, along a welcome stretch of tar to Goageb, I find myself chuckling indulgently at the folly of my vacillating mindset - The fact that all I wished for was miles & miles of sand roads, yet finding myself on tar I am almost overcome with relief at the predictability of the surface beneath me and the brief respite from the intense & constant focus required while navigating treacherous sand traps & donga’s.
Left onto the C14 for fuel in Bethanien and a welcome burger and freshly made apfelstrudel in the tepid sunlight of a charming country cafés stoep. How fickle am I whose spirit soar's after a good meal?
Turning left from the C14 onto the D425 I was wearily considering how sensible it was to take what appeared to be a shortcut to the D707, bypassing Helmiringhausen , and saving me about 20km’s on what was becoming a long tiring day. Clarity slapped me upside the head moments later when I descended into a dry river bed & rather than looking up & opening up (Ja Jan ek luister nie), I panicked & felt the front slipping away in slow motion. I got my leg out and spent every single last ounce of energy in a monsterous combination of fear and desperation for what must have been easily 10 minutes of soul sapping determination to not let donkey fall any farther than the 45 degree’s he was already lying at. I got him upright and paddle footed my way out & straight back to the C14 after brief recovery to catch my breath.
The only proof of my struggle on the D425
Earlier in the story I alluded to the fact that in retrospect I am amused by my fear of dropping the bike on this day. What I find so amusing is that later in the trip when I dropped the bike, I just unpacked the luggage, lifted it & repacked & moved on. That this thought did not occur to me early on in the trip is an indication of the fact that my mind was so busy processing the barrage of new information & experiences that this simple solution remained elusive.
I arm wrestled the wind for the rest of the day & slowly its constant pounding was reducing me to the same state as the wind weathered rocks around me.
Unprecedented rainfall the past few months caused fields to be flooded with tall grass that added a velvet sheen to the hills around me and all along the D707. This road came highly recommended & it was not disappointing, this was one of the best game drives I have ever done with Springbok, Oryx, Zebra, and Hartebeest scattered indiscriminately across the endless vistas ahead of me.
However I found myself tiredly weaving my way through alternate deep drifts of sand then deeply rutted gravel where my attention was solely focused on not falling, entirely missing most of the scenery. On more than one occasion I found myself powering through a tank slapper to prevent the backend & luggage from overtaking me. Nothing like a good poephol puckering to re-ignite your waning energy levels.
The start of the D707
One of my favourite pictures of the trip - D707
Long shadows led me to realize I would not make my destination for the night and I had no desire to navigate this road in the dark.
An Oryx watched me turning off the D707 in search of accommodation at the Namib Desert Lodge.
I sent this sms to think Mike “ I am not often at a shortage of words but my trip so far has been beyond outstanding. First 2 days - very challenging riding - very very cold weather with the strongest winds i have ever been in let alone ridden in with road conditions that were very interesting - the roads had thick sand from the wind & deep ruts !! I could not make my destination wed night so stopped off at farm (namib desert lodge) along renowned D707 for night. Farmers told me they helped 2 groups of bikers day before me that went down on the road in front of farm. European tourists no one badly injured but bikes both trashed.”
Donkey resting in front of my room at Namib Desert Lodge
I decided to climb to the top of this hill for the sunset
View of Namib desert lodge from the top of the hill
The owner of the farm told me that in 27 years they have never had so much grass at this time of the year.
Sunset was spectacular !!!
