tankgirl
Pack Dog
[flash=800,450]https://www.youtube.com/v/2eZ7yzZXoso[/flash]
Life is always going to get in the way of the things we really wanna do.
We pile on more and more responsibilities every day as if it somehow amplifies our significance in this world.
“Fuck that!” says tankgirl.
“We going riding?”
*speculative silence*
“For shit sure!” says OliveOil.
Responsibilities redistributed, we set out on the heels of the unknown.
We’re going to Lake Malawi, exploring parts of Namibia on the way.
Day One rockets off with some showers for luck, the last rain for our thirty-day trip. Just as well because OliveOil’s poncho is shredded in the wind...
Next morning is warm and bright and we praise the dry skies.
Butterflies when we fire up the bikes! Namibia awaits.
After a fuel bladder and cheesecake malfunction at the Rose Café which is regrettably closed on Sundays, we reach Onseepkans/Velloorsdrift.
The contrast is ridiculous. Before crossing the Orange River you get the bumpiest piece of corrugated shit in the history of the sports bra.
But then, after a quick stamp in the passport, you have the Comfortably Numb solo all the way to Karasburg!
We ride side by side for a 100km. Not another soul in sight.
Grünau serves oryx for dinner. OliveOil does not indulge but we celebrate our first Namibian brews and befriend some of the residents.
With our new MTC sim-cards we are able to navigate easily using google maps. Again, the roads are incredible and we encounter plenty of game.
We pack away one massive brunch at the Cañon Roadhouse before hitting the actual canyon. It’s big. Very big! Next time we’ll be hiking the trail.
Just as we’re about to leave the canyon a pair of GS1200’s pull up. A resident Windhoeker showing his Turkish friend around.
The friend is kinda funny-looking dressed in all black with the wallet chain and fingerless gloves. We have a chuckle, finish our beer and head off towards Ais-Ais.
At the abandoned old car a sweet but very chatty Irish couple hi-jacks our photo session, making us pose for pictures with our bikes instead!
Motorcycles are people magnets. It’s undeniable.
Never will random folks come up to you asking where you from or where you going if you’re in a VW Polo.
Our plan is to wild camp on the Orange River. The sun has already plummeted into the horizon.
It’s much too dark for dark visors by the time we've fumbled into a spot.
We’re tired, and not really in a mood for cooking, so we devour the choc-chip muffins we have left over from brunch.
We feel really privileged. For a long while we just lay on the soft sand bank next to our bikes and our five billion-star nylon-hotel. The world is our oyster.
Only a tiny can of Smith & Wesson pepper spray between us and every man-shaped tree out there.
Whenever a car crosses the bridge we dive into darkness and hold our breaths so our position isn't compromised!
Despite all the covert excitement we sleep really well and when we first lay eyes on our beautiful location the next morning it overwhelms us all over again!
We don’t really want to leave. We make coffee and happen upon some paw prints, alarmingly close to our tent!
So far Namibia has exceeded all our expectations. And it's only our third day here!
Everywhere we ride, everything we see, everyone we meet makes us feel like royalty.
The Gamchab canyon is everything I dreamed it would be. What a deadly piece of scenic curvature!
So deadly in fact, that my clutch completely fucks out. A brand new one, expensively fitted by BMW. Useless.
We're kind of in the middle of nowhere. Can't stay here.
After a few attempts I manage to pull off without stalling the bike and ride clutchless all the way to Rosh Pinah. We don't stop very often for photos.
At the filling station in Aus we meet a pair of German guys and we have ice-cream. Because we're on holiday!
The aim is to find some mechanical assistance in Lüderitz. Surely my rear tire won’t last another 7000km if it has to spin every time we take off!
First though, we must tame some savage horses and conquer post-apocalyptic landscapes, vicious sand blasts and brutal cross winds.
We love it! Our adventure.
A lot of folks are surprised at us embarking on this kind of trip, two helpless chicks.
Come on people. It’s 2015.
Lüderitz is such a charming little town, windswept and laid-back. Also, we upgrade from backpackers to penthouse!
That means we have to carry all our luggage five flights up an enchanted staircase.
Haus Hartmann 1909. A handsome hundred year-old building overlooking the harbour. So worth it!
The oldest and sweetest car mechanic in town unfortunately cannot fix my bike but we manage to gather a bunch of contact names and numbers.
It's tomorrow's problem now.
Running downtown like a pair of idiots we try and catch the west coast sunset but fail by a mere five minutes. We both agree that it was a rather weak one anyway.
We return to our bodacious abode for a much needed and well-deserved shower.
The evening streets are quiet and so is the wind when we take a stroll in search of supper.
Kratzplatz is packed. We shake off our coats and share a table with that funny-looking Turkish dude, the same one from Fish River Canyon.
He and his friend parted ways over a difference in opinion regarding on- and off-road touring.
Good times, eating and drinking, until we find ourselves in the throes of a bona fide bar fight! Wow, we are really living it up!
Manfred, an old biker himself, compels me to practically sue BMW for the shitty clutch-job and sends us off with a round of shooters on the house.
We get going awfully early to catch Kolmanskop at sunrise. 6AM costs $225pp and 8AM is $80pp to enter.
With too little cash on hand, and too little time to wait, we disappointedly make our way back to Aus.
The hour or two we saved, not photographing the iconic houses filled with sand, is spent looking out over the Garub watering hole.
An assortment of horses, Oryx and even an ostrich makes an appearance!
The Bahnhoff Hotel serves us muesli with fresh fruit while we call and email around to get parts for my bike.
I'm not very good at orchestrating this kind of thing, especially from afar, but I am promised parts and quotes and it feels like everything is going to be okay.
Meanwhile, the camera's still rolling and we have Sesriem in sight. The D707 remains on the bucket list for now as Helmeringhausen's apple pie fills a gap.
The lush landscapes surrounding Duwisib castle astound us and the stunning dirt roads deserve a mention again. They reward us just for being there.
We cruise along some fairly sandy roads up to Betta, carefully navigate around countless spooked Oryx trapped on the wrong side of the fence, breeze through NamibRand's mountain zebras, subconsciously chasing the sun again. We're making a habit of reaching our destinations after dark.
We spend the evening undoing an unfortunate shampoo/OMO spill and meet a mad cyclist from Belgium desperate for a physical therapist, or the next best thing. He'd pedalled 90km from Solitaire.
I make a mental note to one day try cycling a substantial distance. The concept thoroughly intrigues me.
At 5AM we hop on the staff shuttle that delivers us to Dead Vlei, freezing our tits off without complaint.
This is one of the photographic highlights of the entire trip, worth every shivering goose bump.
The messy sand tracks en route make us secretly very thankful that bikes are not allowed.
It's a beautifully clear day and we're surrounded by nothing but red Namib Desert dunes. The panoramic views are breath taking.
After soaking up the sunrise atop this magnificent force of nature, we inspect the salty white clay pan below and shoot some of the dead Acacias, as one does in Sossusvlei.
Hearts filled with joy and shoes filled with sand, we summon two volunteers for our next trick.
*cue those two German dudes we met in Aus*
We need a lift back to camp and they graciously oblige. Turns out they won this all-expense-paid self-drive trip through Namibia in a lucky draw!
They hang out with us until time forces us to reluctantly pack up.
It entertains OliveOil no end that one of our tent pens had impaled the sewerage line and upon removal squirts an unhealthy jet stream of stink all over me.
I don't quite share her sense of humour about it until much later when I know I'm free and clear of e coli and cholera.
We gulp down a late lunch in Solitaire and nail the long stretch to Walvisbay.
The Kuiseb pass catches us totally unawares. What a delight! Especially after the good rains, you'd be forgiven for believing in wormholes to the Scottish highlands!
Approaching the coastal town we are met with a massive fog bank coming in from the South Atlantic. Just as well there's no time to climb Dune Seven as the weather is really miserable.
OliveOil gets flagged down by the fuzz on my behalf for not stopping at a roadblock. I swear that cop waved us through.
We regroup after a tough talking-to by Swakop Traffic Police employee of the month. My clutchless downshifts into neutral need work.
We lie shamelessly to the uptight folks at Alte Brücke about using a mesh groundsheet. Me putting this here isn’t going to lead to some kind of investigation, is it?
A lovely young JHB couple drops in and an animated biking/over-landing discussion ensues.
An hour or so after clutch-fixing advice and a few riding tales are exchanged we pitch our tent and each enjoy a quick shower before realising we're famished! It's 9:15PM.
The Tiger Reef beach bar's kitchen is already closed by the time we rock up so we hope for the best and power-walk to the Jetty restaurant a little further uptown.
We are horribly underdressed with only 15 minutes to get our orders in. It's our friend Pop's birthday today and the celebratory Gin & Tonic goes down very smoothly.
Namibian daylight savings time means the cheers to you WhatsApp selfie falls on sleeping ears but the thought still counts.
It's overcast and cold the next morning still. We hide all of our groundsheet-less evidence and after a quick laundry session hit the streets on foot again, armed with our cameras.
We get some cool shots of the jetty and walk around town a bit where a strong coffee aroma kidnaps us for breakfast at Café Treffpunkt.
OliveOil suggests I try the rohack, a firm favourite of hers growing up in Windhoek, when she was still proudly carnivorous.
We break camp and make our way over to Marc's Auto, as recommended by BMW Windhoek.
After some poking around we find out the reason those splines on the operating shaft are stripped is because the worm mechanism was not fitted into its bearing properly.
Boom! Knocked in tight and the shaft is repositioned so that the undamaged teeth face the worm. And I have a usable clutch again! Just like that.
Simultaneously, the mystery of OliveOil's sporadic camera charger is solved by one of the other mechanics and we're good to go!
Suffice it to say we must miss out on the fish & chips in Hentiesbay, and head for the Grösse Spitzkoppe.
We have the whole place to ourselves, the absolute best spot. A photographic dream destination. And it's dead quiet for miles around us.
We whip out the camp stove and do the noodle thing with baked beans. As a first time operator I am impressed with the usability of my Victorinox opener!
We find no glowing scorpions with the UV torch but then we don't exactly overturn any rocks. The stars blow our minds. A Friday night well spent.
In an unexpected reversal of roles, I am the one who's told to get up. We have to get up now!
We peel off our sleeping bags and scramble up to the rock arch for a majestic sunrise. It's ours and ours alone.
The little restaurant at reception tempts us with pancakes and dangerously comfortable hammocks, seductively placed right there. How are we supposed not to plunge right into them?!
We waste the better part of an hour drinking beer and thinking of excuses to stay.
We do pull it together eventually only to treat ourselves to cake and smoothies in the very next town. Cactus & Coffee, cool place!
Having ridden only a few kilometres I don't trust my clutch 100% yet for technical stuff. Divorce pass therefore remains, for now, undefeated.
By the time I realise that the Brandberg is on the wrong side of us we're already 40km down car-wreck boulevard in the opposite direction. We backtrack and refuel again in Uis for safety's sake.
We're headed to Mowani Mountain camp, managed by my cousin Jo and her husband Zane. They'd just flown back in from SA, driving up from Windhoek airport.
We time our ride so they'll have a chance to unwind before we arrive, and also to catch a herd of twenty giraffe on the road.
The only thing more elegant than a running giraffe is twenty of them running together.
Shitty friend that I am, neglect to mention until it's too late that OliveOil is vegetarian. Luckily salad and roasted veggies come standard and a feta bake is spontaneously concocted. The rest of us have chicken too.
We stay up chatting 'til none of us can keep our eyes open and crash deep dents into the couches.
In the morning we dump all our laundry and hop on a game drive in search of Desert Elephants! We are privileged to some close interaction with Rose's group. A remarkable experience.
In fact the whole outing is very educational. We also visit the Twyfelfontein rock engravings. Fascinating stuff!
I commandeer Zane's laptop to free up some memory cards, copying all my photos and footage to one precious flash disk.
We are banished to the sunset view spot, tall drinks in hand, while our hosts book us in as lodge guests. Doesn't get much better than this.
After dinner we can hardly wait to go trash our luxury room! Best night's rest by far and we wake up to a ridiculous view!
Today we're riding to Etosha National Park. Arranged to leave our bikes at Toshari lodge, currently undergoing major construction after a disastrous lightning strike.
Zane's thrilled to visit the park for the first time and we are but grateful for the opportunity. Everyone's a winner!
We're welcomed by a big herd of elephants, forty-fifty strong, in all shapes and sizes. Intimidating as they can be, they move so gently and we just sit there watching them for a while.
Okaukuejo will be our home for the next two nights, finally ending our slutty streak of sleeping in a different place every night.
While we set up camp a black rhino walks right past the fence, unfazed. Magical!
At around 9PM we hear some snorting and squeaking sounds like deflating balloons. We run to the watering hole and find four black rhino there. On the second night there are at least six of them! So special!
An excessively loud "Oi!" violently plucks me from my deep sleep. The black-backed jackal is busy scavenging our campsite. Jo and Zane save what they can. We joke, but rabies is real!
Hopeful for some felines we take a drive up to Halali. Regrettably no cats, but we do enjoy the massive herds of plains animals and get a few nice wildlife pictures.
I promise myself that I'll be back here soon and spend a lot more time.
Reunited with our bikes again we jump on a D-road shortcut to Otavi, unaware of it being the last real gravel riding of the trip.
Since it's on the way we make the short detour and check out the Hoba meteorite.
At Roy's rest camp, before we can even get a drink, two women walk over and bombard us with their questions and admiration. Their enthusiasm and appreciation for what we're doing is humbling.
Motorbikes, an ice-breaker like no other.
At the bar we meet almost every other guest as well: a Dutch boy all alone on a tour bus with elderly folks, Europeans and New Zealanders on their way to Kenya and beyond, and the Lamberts of Mile-4 in Swakopmund.
We stay for breakfast wishing all our newfound friends well before hitting the runway to Rundu.
Life is always going to get in the way of the things we really wanna do.
We pile on more and more responsibilities every day as if it somehow amplifies our significance in this world.
“Fuck that!” says tankgirl.
“We going riding?”
*speculative silence*
“For shit sure!” says OliveOil.
Responsibilities redistributed, we set out on the heels of the unknown.
We’re going to Lake Malawi, exploring parts of Namibia on the way.
Day One rockets off with some showers for luck, the last rain for our thirty-day trip. Just as well because OliveOil’s poncho is shredded in the wind...
Next morning is warm and bright and we praise the dry skies.
Butterflies when we fire up the bikes! Namibia awaits.
After a fuel bladder and cheesecake malfunction at the Rose Café which is regrettably closed on Sundays, we reach Onseepkans/Velloorsdrift.
The contrast is ridiculous. Before crossing the Orange River you get the bumpiest piece of corrugated shit in the history of the sports bra.
But then, after a quick stamp in the passport, you have the Comfortably Numb solo all the way to Karasburg!
We ride side by side for a 100km. Not another soul in sight.
Grünau serves oryx for dinner. OliveOil does not indulge but we celebrate our first Namibian brews and befriend some of the residents.
With our new MTC sim-cards we are able to navigate easily using google maps. Again, the roads are incredible and we encounter plenty of game.
We pack away one massive brunch at the Cañon Roadhouse before hitting the actual canyon. It’s big. Very big! Next time we’ll be hiking the trail.
Just as we’re about to leave the canyon a pair of GS1200’s pull up. A resident Windhoeker showing his Turkish friend around.
The friend is kinda funny-looking dressed in all black with the wallet chain and fingerless gloves. We have a chuckle, finish our beer and head off towards Ais-Ais.
At the abandoned old car a sweet but very chatty Irish couple hi-jacks our photo session, making us pose for pictures with our bikes instead!
Motorcycles are people magnets. It’s undeniable.
Never will random folks come up to you asking where you from or where you going if you’re in a VW Polo.
Our plan is to wild camp on the Orange River. The sun has already plummeted into the horizon.
It’s much too dark for dark visors by the time we've fumbled into a spot.
We’re tired, and not really in a mood for cooking, so we devour the choc-chip muffins we have left over from brunch.
We feel really privileged. For a long while we just lay on the soft sand bank next to our bikes and our five billion-star nylon-hotel. The world is our oyster.
Only a tiny can of Smith & Wesson pepper spray between us and every man-shaped tree out there.
Whenever a car crosses the bridge we dive into darkness and hold our breaths so our position isn't compromised!
Despite all the covert excitement we sleep really well and when we first lay eyes on our beautiful location the next morning it overwhelms us all over again!
We don’t really want to leave. We make coffee and happen upon some paw prints, alarmingly close to our tent!
So far Namibia has exceeded all our expectations. And it's only our third day here!
Everywhere we ride, everything we see, everyone we meet makes us feel like royalty.
The Gamchab canyon is everything I dreamed it would be. What a deadly piece of scenic curvature!
So deadly in fact, that my clutch completely fucks out. A brand new one, expensively fitted by BMW. Useless.
We're kind of in the middle of nowhere. Can't stay here.
After a few attempts I manage to pull off without stalling the bike and ride clutchless all the way to Rosh Pinah. We don't stop very often for photos.
At the filling station in Aus we meet a pair of German guys and we have ice-cream. Because we're on holiday!
The aim is to find some mechanical assistance in Lüderitz. Surely my rear tire won’t last another 7000km if it has to spin every time we take off!
First though, we must tame some savage horses and conquer post-apocalyptic landscapes, vicious sand blasts and brutal cross winds.
We love it! Our adventure.
A lot of folks are surprised at us embarking on this kind of trip, two helpless chicks.
Come on people. It’s 2015.
Lüderitz is such a charming little town, windswept and laid-back. Also, we upgrade from backpackers to penthouse!
That means we have to carry all our luggage five flights up an enchanted staircase.
Haus Hartmann 1909. A handsome hundred year-old building overlooking the harbour. So worth it!
The oldest and sweetest car mechanic in town unfortunately cannot fix my bike but we manage to gather a bunch of contact names and numbers.
It's tomorrow's problem now.
Running downtown like a pair of idiots we try and catch the west coast sunset but fail by a mere five minutes. We both agree that it was a rather weak one anyway.
We return to our bodacious abode for a much needed and well-deserved shower.
The evening streets are quiet and so is the wind when we take a stroll in search of supper.
Kratzplatz is packed. We shake off our coats and share a table with that funny-looking Turkish dude, the same one from Fish River Canyon.
He and his friend parted ways over a difference in opinion regarding on- and off-road touring.
Good times, eating and drinking, until we find ourselves in the throes of a bona fide bar fight! Wow, we are really living it up!
Manfred, an old biker himself, compels me to practically sue BMW for the shitty clutch-job and sends us off with a round of shooters on the house.
We get going awfully early to catch Kolmanskop at sunrise. 6AM costs $225pp and 8AM is $80pp to enter.
With too little cash on hand, and too little time to wait, we disappointedly make our way back to Aus.
The hour or two we saved, not photographing the iconic houses filled with sand, is spent looking out over the Garub watering hole.
An assortment of horses, Oryx and even an ostrich makes an appearance!
The Bahnhoff Hotel serves us muesli with fresh fruit while we call and email around to get parts for my bike.
I'm not very good at orchestrating this kind of thing, especially from afar, but I am promised parts and quotes and it feels like everything is going to be okay.
Meanwhile, the camera's still rolling and we have Sesriem in sight. The D707 remains on the bucket list for now as Helmeringhausen's apple pie fills a gap.
The lush landscapes surrounding Duwisib castle astound us and the stunning dirt roads deserve a mention again. They reward us just for being there.
We cruise along some fairly sandy roads up to Betta, carefully navigate around countless spooked Oryx trapped on the wrong side of the fence, breeze through NamibRand's mountain zebras, subconsciously chasing the sun again. We're making a habit of reaching our destinations after dark.
We spend the evening undoing an unfortunate shampoo/OMO spill and meet a mad cyclist from Belgium desperate for a physical therapist, or the next best thing. He'd pedalled 90km from Solitaire.
I make a mental note to one day try cycling a substantial distance. The concept thoroughly intrigues me.
At 5AM we hop on the staff shuttle that delivers us to Dead Vlei, freezing our tits off without complaint.
This is one of the photographic highlights of the entire trip, worth every shivering goose bump.
The messy sand tracks en route make us secretly very thankful that bikes are not allowed.
It's a beautifully clear day and we're surrounded by nothing but red Namib Desert dunes. The panoramic views are breath taking.
After soaking up the sunrise atop this magnificent force of nature, we inspect the salty white clay pan below and shoot some of the dead Acacias, as one does in Sossusvlei.
Hearts filled with joy and shoes filled with sand, we summon two volunteers for our next trick.
*cue those two German dudes we met in Aus*
We need a lift back to camp and they graciously oblige. Turns out they won this all-expense-paid self-drive trip through Namibia in a lucky draw!
They hang out with us until time forces us to reluctantly pack up.
It entertains OliveOil no end that one of our tent pens had impaled the sewerage line and upon removal squirts an unhealthy jet stream of stink all over me.
I don't quite share her sense of humour about it until much later when I know I'm free and clear of e coli and cholera.
We gulp down a late lunch in Solitaire and nail the long stretch to Walvisbay.
The Kuiseb pass catches us totally unawares. What a delight! Especially after the good rains, you'd be forgiven for believing in wormholes to the Scottish highlands!
Approaching the coastal town we are met with a massive fog bank coming in from the South Atlantic. Just as well there's no time to climb Dune Seven as the weather is really miserable.
OliveOil gets flagged down by the fuzz on my behalf for not stopping at a roadblock. I swear that cop waved us through.
We regroup after a tough talking-to by Swakop Traffic Police employee of the month. My clutchless downshifts into neutral need work.
We lie shamelessly to the uptight folks at Alte Brücke about using a mesh groundsheet. Me putting this here isn’t going to lead to some kind of investigation, is it?
A lovely young JHB couple drops in and an animated biking/over-landing discussion ensues.
An hour or so after clutch-fixing advice and a few riding tales are exchanged we pitch our tent and each enjoy a quick shower before realising we're famished! It's 9:15PM.
The Tiger Reef beach bar's kitchen is already closed by the time we rock up so we hope for the best and power-walk to the Jetty restaurant a little further uptown.
We are horribly underdressed with only 15 minutes to get our orders in. It's our friend Pop's birthday today and the celebratory Gin & Tonic goes down very smoothly.
Namibian daylight savings time means the cheers to you WhatsApp selfie falls on sleeping ears but the thought still counts.
It's overcast and cold the next morning still. We hide all of our groundsheet-less evidence and after a quick laundry session hit the streets on foot again, armed with our cameras.
We get some cool shots of the jetty and walk around town a bit where a strong coffee aroma kidnaps us for breakfast at Café Treffpunkt.
OliveOil suggests I try the rohack, a firm favourite of hers growing up in Windhoek, when she was still proudly carnivorous.
We break camp and make our way over to Marc's Auto, as recommended by BMW Windhoek.
After some poking around we find out the reason those splines on the operating shaft are stripped is because the worm mechanism was not fitted into its bearing properly.
Boom! Knocked in tight and the shaft is repositioned so that the undamaged teeth face the worm. And I have a usable clutch again! Just like that.
Simultaneously, the mystery of OliveOil's sporadic camera charger is solved by one of the other mechanics and we're good to go!
Suffice it to say we must miss out on the fish & chips in Hentiesbay, and head for the Grösse Spitzkoppe.
We have the whole place to ourselves, the absolute best spot. A photographic dream destination. And it's dead quiet for miles around us.
We whip out the camp stove and do the noodle thing with baked beans. As a first time operator I am impressed with the usability of my Victorinox opener!
We find no glowing scorpions with the UV torch but then we don't exactly overturn any rocks. The stars blow our minds. A Friday night well spent.
In an unexpected reversal of roles, I am the one who's told to get up. We have to get up now!
We peel off our sleeping bags and scramble up to the rock arch for a majestic sunrise. It's ours and ours alone.
The little restaurant at reception tempts us with pancakes and dangerously comfortable hammocks, seductively placed right there. How are we supposed not to plunge right into them?!
We waste the better part of an hour drinking beer and thinking of excuses to stay.
We do pull it together eventually only to treat ourselves to cake and smoothies in the very next town. Cactus & Coffee, cool place!
Having ridden only a few kilometres I don't trust my clutch 100% yet for technical stuff. Divorce pass therefore remains, for now, undefeated.
By the time I realise that the Brandberg is on the wrong side of us we're already 40km down car-wreck boulevard in the opposite direction. We backtrack and refuel again in Uis for safety's sake.
We're headed to Mowani Mountain camp, managed by my cousin Jo and her husband Zane. They'd just flown back in from SA, driving up from Windhoek airport.
We time our ride so they'll have a chance to unwind before we arrive, and also to catch a herd of twenty giraffe on the road.
The only thing more elegant than a running giraffe is twenty of them running together.
Shitty friend that I am, neglect to mention until it's too late that OliveOil is vegetarian. Luckily salad and roasted veggies come standard and a feta bake is spontaneously concocted. The rest of us have chicken too.
We stay up chatting 'til none of us can keep our eyes open and crash deep dents into the couches.
In the morning we dump all our laundry and hop on a game drive in search of Desert Elephants! We are privileged to some close interaction with Rose's group. A remarkable experience.
In fact the whole outing is very educational. We also visit the Twyfelfontein rock engravings. Fascinating stuff!
I commandeer Zane's laptop to free up some memory cards, copying all my photos and footage to one precious flash disk.
We are banished to the sunset view spot, tall drinks in hand, while our hosts book us in as lodge guests. Doesn't get much better than this.
After dinner we can hardly wait to go trash our luxury room! Best night's rest by far and we wake up to a ridiculous view!
Today we're riding to Etosha National Park. Arranged to leave our bikes at Toshari lodge, currently undergoing major construction after a disastrous lightning strike.
Zane's thrilled to visit the park for the first time and we are but grateful for the opportunity. Everyone's a winner!
We're welcomed by a big herd of elephants, forty-fifty strong, in all shapes and sizes. Intimidating as they can be, they move so gently and we just sit there watching them for a while.
Okaukuejo will be our home for the next two nights, finally ending our slutty streak of sleeping in a different place every night.
While we set up camp a black rhino walks right past the fence, unfazed. Magical!
At around 9PM we hear some snorting and squeaking sounds like deflating balloons. We run to the watering hole and find four black rhino there. On the second night there are at least six of them! So special!
An excessively loud "Oi!" violently plucks me from my deep sleep. The black-backed jackal is busy scavenging our campsite. Jo and Zane save what they can. We joke, but rabies is real!
Hopeful for some felines we take a drive up to Halali. Regrettably no cats, but we do enjoy the massive herds of plains animals and get a few nice wildlife pictures.
I promise myself that I'll be back here soon and spend a lot more time.
Reunited with our bikes again we jump on a D-road shortcut to Otavi, unaware of it being the last real gravel riding of the trip.
Since it's on the way we make the short detour and check out the Hoba meteorite.
At Roy's rest camp, before we can even get a drink, two women walk over and bombard us with their questions and admiration. Their enthusiasm and appreciation for what we're doing is humbling.
Motorbikes, an ice-breaker like no other.
At the bar we meet almost every other guest as well: a Dutch boy all alone on a tour bus with elderly folks, Europeans and New Zealanders on their way to Kenya and beyond, and the Lamberts of Mile-4 in Swakopmund.
We stay for breakfast wishing all our newfound friends well before hitting the runway to Rundu.
