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Windhoek, Namibia – Part 1
Visit to Windhoek – Part 1
October 2012
Departure
I always find it stressful when I have to get up early to fly. This was no exception. We had to get up before 04h00 to make it to Cape Town International Airport to catch the flight to Windhoek.
[Source: Map data ©2014 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google]
It’s a quiet morning. Obviously, I mean, it’s four-a-clock in the morning. With virtually no traffic it’s a quick drive down to the airport.
We find Air Namibia’s check-in counter, and from there proceed to the passport control. At last we get stamps in our fairly new (and unused) passports.
Arrival
Hosea Kutako airport outside Windhoek is not very busy. Passport control and luggage collection take only minutes. South African Rands are legal tender, which makes things rather simple. But only if you have South African Rands with you. Just before we left home we decided to rather leave the cash for the rest of the family staying behind. Drawing money should not be a problem.
Well, there is a slight problem. The cash machines on the airport only takes Visa cards. I don’t have a Visa card. Fortunately the gentleman at the MTC cellphone shop is willing to put the R50 for an sim card and airtime through on my credit card.
I am in a hurry to get the phone to work so that the kids can contact us in case of emergency. However, none of the text messages go through. I later call the toll-free number for assistance. After making four calls, each time trying another option, I listen to the menu long enough te learn that ‘option 9’ would be the one to speak to an operator. The friendly operator suggest I make a call to get the number up and running. I try making a few calls as well, with no success.
My wife later suggests that maybe now would be a good time to upload the airtime. This turned out to be a splendid idea. Shortly thereafter everything was working fine.
The 40km’s from the airport to Windhoek is a rather relaxing experience. It feels like the beginning of a holiday. No traffic, nuh?
Entering Windhoek it is clear that they missed the news that there is a slump in the property industry. It is just amazing how much building work (houses and large office blocks) are in progress.
At the guest house we are welcomed with coffee. This is my type of guest house.
Culture Centre
We attend the opening of the Namibian Childrens Book Fair at the Franco Namibian Cultural Centre in Robert Mugabe drive.
It turns out to be quite a big deal, with ambassadors, reprentatives of ambassadors and the likes making speaches. They are all dressed up for a social occasion in the European winter. Only, this is Africa, and it is summer, with the temperatur reaching up to 38 degrees C.
Having watched The Pink Panther a few times with my kids I have difficulties taking the French ambassador seriously. I find myself waiting for the punch line to come, but it does not happen. The keynote address is done by the Namibian deputy minister of Home Affairs. He also supports the idea that everyone should be able to read.
After the speaches two ladies entertain us on a short extract from Dr Zeuss. They are extremely good and funny!
Thereafter follows the eating and drinking. The space is slightly confined, so from time to time you need to shoulder an ambassador out of the way to get to the food.
In the tile floor there is one row of glass panels. Under the floor are sculptures of people. One gets the feeling of slaves being led away, looking upwards for help. Above floor level, though, everyone goes about their business, pretty much ignoring them.
I found it remarkably striking and symbolic.
Part 2 to follow…
Windhoek, Namibia – Part 2
October 2012
Oktoberfest
Some four weeks ago we said our farewells to our friend leaving Riebeek-West for Windhoek. Based on past experience we expected to see her again in ten years time. However, our unexpected visit to Windhoek change this.
We alerted her to us coming to Windhoek. Instead of fleeing off to Swakopmund for the weekend, she gave us the option to choose between a Friday night visit to Joe’s Beerhouse, or to attend the Oktoberfest with her. As the Oktoberfest only comes around once a year, we opted for the latter.
It’s quite a big thing, this fest. The Kirchdorfer is a Germany based band touring around the world. Amongst others they play at the Brasilian summer festival and the Korean Octoberfest. Oh, and at the United Emirates’ Octoberfest. I didn’t know you’re allowed to drink beer there.
This oempa band is phenomenal. Nine men and a lady. They made music for some 5 hours with enormous energy. The old man from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory should have had these oempa loempas around!
I’m told that of the 2,2 million people of Namibia, some 4% is German speaking. And it would appear that 90% of them attended the Octoberfest. OK, maybe not quite, but it was no desolate affair.
A lot of the men wear the knee pants (leather or not) with braces. The ladies also wear traditional clothing. I could not help but notice a few substantial bellies among the men folk. And some ladies also sported enormous beer tankards. You basically order your beer by the bucket.
This, of course, has certain predictable results. At the bar counter a girl stumbles against me as she puts down two beer mugs (smaller versions were also available). This was while I’m now trying to whisper in the bartender’s ear that I would actually like a Coke, rather than a beer. Anyway, the girl’s mugs would not stand upstraight, regardless of her endeavours (the beer mugs, that is). I assume it to be a design defect in the mugs.
The girl explains to me what the problem is. Well, I think that is what she did. I assume she was speaking either English, Afrikaans or German, but I could understand nothing of what she was saying; she sounded like Donald Duck on helium. Maybe that was also due to a design defect, although I suspect that the beer might have something to do with it.
A good time was had by all.
Tourists
On Saturday we did the tourits thing and went walkabout.
I notice an attorney’s firm: F Q P attorneys. A rather interesting name, I thought.
On the topic of attorneys: it would appear that the occupation of choice in Windhoek must be the manufacturing and installing of electric fences, barbed wire and burglar bars. Oh, no, sorry, I’m not on the topic of attorneys anymore.
In spite of all these visible deterrents of criminals one does not feel unsafe. Admittedly, it may have something to do with the fact that you are on the inside of the fencing. But even outside those perimeters we did not feel unsafe. Of course you should not be stupid and visit risky place, but it would appear that the crime here is property related, rather than violent crime.
The contrast between the old and the new is sriking. The old colonial building of the Bank of Namibia now stands dwarfed by the new one right next to it.
The Bank of Namibia replaced the Namibian reserve bank in 1993. Well, sort of. The reserve bank never really came into existence.
The rider on his horse (Reiterdenkmal) had to move from his traditional spot to make way for the new North-Korean built Independence Memorial museum. Reiterdenkmal now stands right in front of the old fort (Alte Feste).
On the picture a part of the Alte Feste can be seen. The enormous coffee perculator on the left is the Independence Memorial Museum.
The colonial old is dwarfed by the new. Maybe it was planned like that.
We walk past the building where the first president of Namibia, Sam Nujoma, used to stay. For a moment I thought maybe I should rather tuck my camera into the front of my pants just to prevent the guards from thinking I am spying on the ex president. But he does not stay there anymore. I understand he has moved on. No, he is still alive, he just lives elsewhere in Windhoek.
Just past the Independence Memorial Museum is the Christuskirche. Construction on this Lutheran church started in 1907 after the German / Herero / Khoikhoi / Ovambo war. It was finished in 1910 and dedicated as a church of peace.
Downtown Windhoek
Downtown Windhoek is busy. It is Saturday on a month end. It is hot. It is nearly summer. The town has a nice vibe to it.
There was this one guy, though, that lost his temper for a taxi that did a u-turn in front of him. To make clear his point he took to his hooter. He was not satisfied with a short, informative blast, though. He just kept on going. But then again, maybe he did not want to be mistook for a taxi. The taxi’s do this short blasts to invite you to make use of their services.
Speaking of which, the Windhoek taxi’s, unlike South African taxi’s, are normally sedan cars, rather than minibus taxi’s.
The new Hilton hotel is just across the road from the old Kalahari Sands hotel. The Hilton is left, the Kalahari Sands on the right.
It’s progress, I assume.
Part 3 to follow…
Windhoek, Namibia – Part 3
The ceremony
Saturday night was the actual purpose of our visit to Windhoek.
We attended the Namibian Children’s Book Forum (NCBF) prize giving ceremony in the Goethe centre in Fidel Castro avenue. My wife’s children’s book, “Wat is jy Kartoffel?” has been nominated for the prize in the category of illustrated children’s books.
Sandy Rudd, the master of ceremonies, kept the atmosphere light with a live wire approach. A TV crew from (I assume) Nam TV was there, and a few photographers. This contingent made it a bit difficult to take pictures from where I was seated. The girls of the Greenwell Matongo Library Dance Group did their thing. Energetic, alive, loud, fun. The faces are alive; it’s such a pleasure watching them.
Gcina Mhlope is a renowned South African story teller and playwright. She does a story telling in which she involves everyone. She has rythm in her whole being. Amazing.
Mrs Kovambo Nujoma, wife of the erstwhile president of Namibia, has been the patron of the NCBF for years. She presented the prizes. She is an elegant lady.
My obervations not only at the evening, but also otherwise, are that the racial relationships in Namibia appear to be a lot more healthy than is the case south of the Orange river. This evening was no exception. OK, Mrs Nujoma’s body guard was not unnecessarily friendly, but I assume that goes with the job description.
Of all the prizes handed out, my interest obviously was primarily with my wife’s award. I was very proud of her when she was called forward to receive her award. Well, now I can say I know somebody who shook the hand of the wife of the ersthwile president of Namibia. This, of course, now makes me a bit of a celebrity myself.
Last social
After the proceedings there is a light meal and wine. When everyone left, our hosts took us to the Hotel Thule for a drink.
Wow! This hotel /restaurant must be on the most prime real estate spot in Windhoek. It sports a bird’s eye view to the North of the city.
It was an idyllic evening. Probably still about 27 degrees, with only a slight wind cooling down the ambient temperature.
Going home
Sunday morning at six-o-clock we get picked up. It is a nice drive out to the airport. The sun is just rising over the Namibian plains. OK, I’m lying about the plains; it’s a bit of poetic licence. There are no plains here – that’s the reason why they had to go 40km’s outside Windhoek to get a big enough flat spot to build an airport.
At the check in counter the man attending to us check our passports, check his computer, check my printout of my electronic booking. The frown between his eyes keep on deepening.
“I will be with you shortly,” he says.
He takes our passports and booking, and disappear through a door. I’m sure I hear the theme from the 007-movies playing in the background. After a while we become (more) concerned. Even later I see the guy walking past, and follow him into an office where a security guard gives me a hostile look.
I explain to her that those are my papers, and that I just want to know what the problem is.
“No, there is no problem,” says the chap assisting us. I walk with him back to the check in counter.
There is a slight problem, he says without explaining the nature thereof. But it only means he has to issue us handwritten boarding passes. A few minutes later we are sorted, and sit down for a nice coffee.
Over my coffee I peruse our boarding passess. And choke in my coffee.
I grab my wife’s boarding pass and my booking papers and run back to the check-in counter. The official looks disturbed when I bash in on him again.
“You booked us to Johannesburg, and we want to go to Cape Town,” I explain. I hand the boarding passes to him.
“Oh, don’t worry, you are going to Cape Town, the flight number is correct. You can just change JHB to CPT,” he says.
By that time the first boarding call came, and I did not have time to argue with the man. So I rush back to my wife, take two gulps of coffee, and head for the passport control.
The boarding passes I fix as suggested by the official.
There, I fixed it
At passport control we start filling in the forms. However, the form asks me which address in Windhoek I will be staying. So we decide that these forms cannot possibly apply to us.
At the counter I explain to the lady behind the counter that we have not completed the forms properly, because it does not seem to apply to us. After a long winded explanation she gives me a smile the way my sub A teacher used to smile at me, and waive us through.
Boarding the plane, just for safety, I present my boarding pass to the attendant with my thumb concealing the destination. We get in undetected. I’m sitting in row 23, my wife in row 27, says the boarding pass. But there is only 25 rows. Oeps!
So my wife heads back to the attendant. She re-interprets the boarding pass, and concludes that the “7” is actually a “3”. And so we end up sitting next to each other.
And so we went home.
PG JONKER
OCTOBER 2012…
Escaping Crime
I’ve been thinking. Ja, I do that from time to time.
We have a bit of a problem with burglars and the likes in our neighbourhood. Maybe it should be taken as a compliment that they consider our area as upmarket enough to target us, but I’ve never really been one for the limelight. Not that I don’t have an ego, I just prefer to be more the back office kind of guy.
Flatscreen TV’s appear to be flavour of the month. I have considered putting up a notice on my lawn that says: “NO, I DON’T HAVE A FLATSCREEN, BUT MY NEIGHBOUR HAS TWO.” But then again, I might just need my neighbour one night, you know.
On the days that the wheelie bins go out, vagrants start doing their bin scratching thing from as soon as the first bins go out. It is an annoyance having them there. We have also been advised by the security companies that the informants for the organised crime guys mingle with the bin scratchers to recce the area. Wow! How would you fancy that: mingling with thís crowd. I mean, it’s not like you share a few jokes over a glass of bubbly.
This leaves you with the problem of how to approach them. I mean, really, who in his right mind would voluntarily choose bin scratching as a regular occupation. And to then be verbally abused by apparent affluent people on top of that cannot be much fun.
But then again, can I afford to be politically correct where my security is at risk?
The other night I was doing neighbourhood watch patrol. At about 03h00 in the morning I spotted this chap walking. He headed for a bicycle that was hidden on someone’s sidewalk garden (mine, nogals!) I stopped next to him and sternly demanded: “Haai!”
The gentleman with the bicycle may tell you that it was more of a feeble croaky “Hi?” that he heard, but who are you going to believe? An upstanding citizen such as myself, of this chap who lurks around my neighbourhood at three-o-clock in the morning?
In any event, he did not stick around for a discussion. He hopped on his bicycle and cruised out of the area rather speedily. Which is good. I don’t really want to catch skelms, I just want them to go away.
Now, this is a free country, and everybody has a constitutional right to scratch in bins and to travel through my area with their bicycle at 03h00 in the morning. I, on the other hand, have the constitutional right to be obnoxious towards them, and to make them feel unwelcome.
OK, let met admit this: I have tendencies. Whimp tendencies. I feel bad everytime I see these poor fellows scratching in the bins, even if I suspect some of them to be skelms out on a recce.
So the question is, what do you do about this?
After rather intensive thinking and research, I got to an answer. And I can’t believe how simple it was. Should have thought about this long ago.
I have to move. Simple as that.
All I need to decide now is whether I want to live in Granaatboskolk, or maybe Bloudulsiesfontein.
So now I’m still thinking.
PGJ…
Riebeek Vallei – Part 1
Riebeek-Wes
Some 80km’s from Cape Town lies the Riebeek Valley.
[Source: Map data ©2012 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google]
Travelling from Malmesbury you first get to Riebeek-Kasteel. Five kilometers further on you find Riebeek-Wes. It’s difficult figuring out why there are two towns, instead of one, given the demographics of the towns.
According to the 2001 census there were then 2532 people living in Riebeek Kasteel. The town itself is a wopping 1,4 square kilometers big. This, as opposed to Riebeek West, which only measures one square kilometer, and had 2661 residents in 2001. Which means that Riebeek-West is more densely populated, should you care to notice.
In spite of the name indicating the contrary, there is no castle in Riebeek-Kasteel (kasteel = castle). It would appear that the valley was found in 1661 by one of Jan van Riebeeck’s men, who then for lack of a better name called it Riebeek’s Castle.
Apparently the mountain looks like a castle. Maybe if you’re on the mountain, dude, but not from below! But then again, maybe one should give a bit of leeway for the views and needs of the settlers in those days. I guess a castle counted for something then, and you could hence easily mistake something for your dream castle. (I wonder what they smoked in those days?)
Rumour has it that some 24 000 people now stays in the Valley. I’ve got my doubts. On my first visit there I saw 13 people, which included 9 visitors. Admittedly, I was on the outer perimeter of Riebeek-Wes. On my second visit, though, I found myself in the hustle and bustle of down town Riebeek Kasteel. And indeed, this time I saw more people. About twenty people, but that was on a Sunday morning just as the church came out.
But these guys use any excuse for a festival. Maybe that’s when they get the 24000 people.
October – Shiraz & Arts Weekend
December – Kloovenburg Summer Market Day
March – Mediterranean Fest
April – Portuguese Festival
May – Olive Festival
July – Berg rivir marathon and the Riebeek Mountain Marathon
From the local information brochure I could glean that Riebeek-Kasteel sports 32 overnight places, and 12 eateries. Clearly, you might die of boredom long before you will die of hunger in this place. This outperforms Riebeek-Wes that only sports a humble 14 places to stay, and 3 eateries.
But according to my calculation it gives you an option of 46 places to stay, and 15 places to eat at. And that in two towns totalling 2,4 square kilometers. Not bad, huh?
For my first visit we went to stay at Andrea Townsend’s Church Hills Guest House in Riebeek-Wes. Andrea is a lawyer turned guest house owner who speaks Afrikaans, English and German. And a bit of French too, although most locals would probably mistake that for swearing.
A view from the stoep.
We went walkabout through Riebeek-Wes.
Time comes to a standstill.
But still takes its toll.
Each of these towns has its own church as well.
Roads are well marked. It’s only the Do-Do that has a bit of a problem knowing whether he should go left or right. No wonder he became extinct!
PGJ
…
Riebeek Vallei – Part 2
Riebeek-Kasteel
By the time you read here, you were supposed to have read my previous posting on Riebeek-Wes. So as not to repeat myself, most of the vital detail and statistics of the town are to be found in the previous mail.
After our first visit, and just to check that we have not missed something, we went back for a short visit to Riebeek-Kasteel.
And promptly tried out one of their restaurants. Kasteelberg Inn & Bistro. It was a coldish morning, with two fires being stoked to keep the place warm.
Behind the Inn you can see the outline of Kasteelberg (Castle Mountain). Of course it looks like a castle!
You could go next door for coffee.
Or we could also have eaten 20 meters away at De Jonges.
Or at Fat Cats Kitchen.
Or we might have been in a hurry.
Pizzas anyone? Bread? Cookies?
Or maybe just water?
Of course, there are other important things in life too.
And of course, the other hallmark of the Afrikaans platteland, the church.
And just as we left, I even noticed a few houses.
PGJ
…
Johnie does Afriski, Lesotho
Johnie does Free State & Lesotho
By JJ Jonker
Like a fair number of other people, we also thought that the present spate of severe weather conditions throughout the country should guarantee decent snow at Afriski.
The weather conditions, of course, spread quite a bit wider than Lesotho. My friend Charl was rained in on his farm in the Aberdeen district. (That’s now Aberdeen in the Karoo, Eastern Cape, not the one in Scotland.) Similar weather conditions were last seen there in 1968. (Not in Scotland, in the Karoo).
We got some pointers as to what may happen in terms of pass closing, and I also had a look on Google Earth where this Moteng place was.
Other than the pass that may be closed, we really had no idea of the fun and games – not at the ski resort, but on the way there – which would develop.
In hindsight, whereas we had fun, clearly the people on their way back the day before, could not share our joy. For some insight into the aftermath, watch this video clip of the last 800m of Moteng Pass on the way up the next day.
[Note: The video is shot in 720HD but defaults to a lower resolution when play starts. Select the highest resolution for the best image.]
OK, but I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.
We headed for Glen Reenen from Pretoria on Sunday 15 July, arriving in good light.
[Source: Map data ©2012 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google]
Booking was made online via the Sanparks website, and being outside school holidays – on the first day – we managed to find place in one of the family cottages via their site.
Unit 25 turned out to be superb, as this has been kitted out for disabled people. We did not really need the ramps which linked all unlevel surfaces, but as far as we could see, this was the only unit with a double carport. This was great for unpacking the car and would be ideal for someone towing a trailer.
While reading through the web page I also saw reference to the Highlands Mountain Retreat – which I had never heard of before, so after settling in we took a drive up to this log cabin camp.
What an incredible hideaway! The units are dug into the hillside
You cannot see another unit from inside any other. And the view goes on forever. Definitely a tick on the future “to do” list.
The two game viewing loops provided a nice road and good views – just none of game. As per usual.
We took some wood along from home just in case there was none for sale – there was, at R27.50 a bundle, but the shop closed at 6pm – so at least we had some backup. Once back at Glen Reenen, the fireplace really made it a welcome place.
The next morning we started – rather too leisurely for my liking – towards Afriski via Caledonspoort.
[Source: Map data ©2014 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google]
But we need not have bothered about an earlier departure, as we – together with around 30 other cars – were pulled up short at the second hairpin of the pass due to it being closed and de-icing being in process.
An ETD of around 1 hour was rumoured when we parked, but turned out to be closer to 2 hours before the salt was scattered and the grader eventually arrived from the top of the pass, 3 km away.
After an initial group of “down” cars, we went up, meeting another similarly sized convoy, waiting to start their downward journey. This was around 1pm, but these motorists were making sure they did not spend aNOTHer night on that mountain.
We were told by the driver of a local recovery truck queuing just ahead of us during the wait – which rather seemed like a social event, as no one seemed to be agitated by this delay – you had to be through the pass the other way at around 4pm, before the water started icing again.
An observation I made was that the cemented concrete channels on the mountain side of the road should keep the melting ice away from the road, thus preventing re-icing. Only this does not happen, as the channels are filled with rocks. So the icing problem is perhaps caused by lack of maintenance?
So, only 3 hours left to do Afriski – is it even worth it?
But of course!!
My kids being semi-English due to their mother’s tongue – but being accustomed to going to Afrikaans holiday places like Hermanus, Gourits, Forever Resorts and the ATKV due to their father’s wallet – have at times asked us “but where do the English people holiday?”
Well, I heard a lot of Afrikaans at Afriski, but I thought this was pretty much as “international” as it was going to get.
The music being played suited the atmosphere exactly, with a sort of “quiet” holiday vibe being present. Almost as if you do not need loud blaring music to artificially create a “holiday feeling”. Who ARE these people?
OK, so not enough time for ski lessons, but I did manage to fit in a Gluhwein – a bit heavy on the cinnamon, though. Afriski was fully booked, so on the way back – to meet the advised 4pm pass deadline – we stopped at Oxbow to enquire about accommodation with the view of returning from there the next day for some skiing.
They still had space available – R2200 for an ensuite room with 4 beds. But by then the sunburn on my wife’s cheeks from the reflection of the snow started to bite, and now looked more like a rash than mere over exposure. So we decided that a future – better planned – visit would be more advisable to fully gain the benefit of Afriski. We’ll also pack the SPF 30 next time.
So we headed back to Glen Reenen. Again Unit 25, us being the only people in the resort.
The next morning we headed down to Drakensville – where the Afrikaans people holiday.
Ai, nothing beats some lekker warm water in the middle of winter, leaning your chin on …
That first time
By PG Jonker
Having visited the Epupa falls with our Toyota Venture many years ago, we liked the taste of the remote travel. However, I then decided that, for my own peace of mind, I should rather do such trips in a four wheel drive vehicle. So I started looking for a 4×4. Finding one is a story on its own, but eventually I took delivery of my second hand 1998 Mazda Magnum 3.4 V6 DC.
Have 4×4. What now?
Bloubergkoppie, near Melkbosstrand, was then still open for the public. It has since been closed for the public, unfortunately due toe abuse by those playing around with all sorts of vehicles, and in the process damaging the area.
My friend Bernhardt volunteered to take me on my maiden 4×4 drive. So one Saturday morning we set out on my first 4×4 outing with my own (well, actually the bank’s) 4×4.
After deflating tyres Bernardt led the way on a sandy track running parallel with the pirloins, with him indicating with his arm up or down for high or low range, using his fingers to suggest the right gear. I may mention that he did use his index finger to indicate first gear.
The 3.5 V8 in Bernardt’s yellow 1984 Range Rover would have been as old technology as my carburetor fed 3.4 liter, and on par in terms of power delivery, so his gear indications were a fair reflection of what was required by my bakkie.
I love this kind of sand driving. The V6 just rumbles on, and would seldom run out of power in first gear high range.
The first dune we got to had to be conquered. It required speeding up the dune in the two spoor track, but then to lift off from the accelerator just as you get to the top due to the spoor making a sharp turn to the left so as to create oversteer to get around the bend.
Yes, I know, the dune looks like nothing on the picture. And yes, it did not even compare with what the guys encounter doing the Namib desert crossing, but trust me, a photo never do justice to the incline on a track.
Being my first time I was a bit nervous. Only years later did it strike me as fitting that Bernardt was also a practising psychologist.
As we progressed my confidence increased. It is amazing the feeling of empowerment getting the hang of things.
At one stage Bernhardt’s kids got on his roof rack. Contrary to my over-cautious nature, I allowed my two kids on the roof rack as well. What were you thinking, dude!
But we were having great fun. Bernhardt leading the way, with the kids waving happily on the roof rack. The Range Rover disappeared over a dune. When it came into sight again I saw the brake lights coming on, and Bernhardt jumping out of the car and running to the rear of the car.
It turned out that my 5-year old daughter got a bit carried away with waving at me that she forgot to hold on the roof rack. On the next bounce she was flung off the roof.
Fortunately no harm done. After blowing the sand out of her face, ears, nose, mouth and so on, she was fine again.
Moving higher and higher towards the top of Blouberg Hill we encountered firmer ground, some steep hills and a few dongas as well.
Not sure whether I should negotiate on such deep donga spoke to myself: “I’m not sure whether I should do this, my bakkie’s tummy might scrape here.”
“Please don’t, oom,” my nine-year old passenger agreed, “my tummy is also going to scrape if we go down here.”
Blouberg Hill has a bit of a history. In 1652 the Dutch came the Cape. Then the English took it from the Dutch. Then the Dutch took it back. Apparently that ticked the queen off a bit, and then the English took it back again. The decisive battle in them regaining control over the Cape was the battle of Blouberg Hill in 1806.
During the second world war an observation post was built on the koppie to watch out for enemy ships.
I’m glad I could make it to Blouberg Hill before it became out-of-bounds.
PGJ…
Namaqualand National Park – Easter 2012: Part 1
By PG Jonker
PART 1
“Koringkorrelbaai? You mean there’s really a place like that?”
“Ja, man. That’s where the Germans dropped Robey Leibbrandt off with the submarine.”
“Genuine? Wow! Who’s Robey Leibbrandt again?”
Sigh. “Aag, never mind, just get your camping gear ready for Easter weekend, ok? And by the way, Leibbrandt was actually dropped off by a yacht, not a submarine.”
“O, OK.”
Wednesday, 4 April
Packing
To miss the worst of the Easter weekend traffic out of Cape Town we decided to take the Thursday off as well. So on Wednesday afternoon the packing started. Packing is technically not part of touring, but believe you me, it is a journey in itself. It warrants some comments.
Our destination is the Southern part of the Namaqua National Park, between the Spoegrivier and the Groenrivier.
[Source: Map data ©2012 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google]
Sleeping over for three nights without facilities such as running water and electricity requires a bit of planning. Cooling facilities in particular. I have a camping fridge. It was a present from my brother. Well, sort of. Returning from a trip in the Richtersveld my brother could not find a Municipal bin big enough to dump the fridge in, so it ended up in my garage. It works well on 220V, but the 12V jack and gas inlet turned out to be only of ornamental value. We did a similar tour last year on which I took this fridge along. Suffice to say that practical considerations, and a happy marriage, require an alternative plan.
Due to the friendliness of friends, and friends of friends, I ended up with two camping fridges to choose from in my garage. The one was slightly smaller than my domestic chest freezer, so I opted for the smaller Engel instead. I also rented a back-up battery from Jacques Basson of Overland Camp Rental in Brackenfell.
But ai, that sinking feeling when you have everything neatly packed, and then your wife tells you there’s “only the last few things” remaining, and these “last few things” then require a total redesign of your packing plan. Bear in mind that, apart from the fridge and the battery pack (in a crate), two 25 litre water cans and four packs of wood had to go along. With no trailer or roof rack.
Eventually, rather late in the evening, I managed to close the rear of the bakkie. Not without difficulty, though. But it’s a bit like winning a rugby match with one point. It’s done!
Thursday, 5 April
On the road again
We leave Durbanville just before 07h00.
We soon leave the city behind. It’s always such a nice feeling leaving the city and to drive on the open road for a change. Little traffic and so on. Mos.
At Vanrhynsdorp we fill up with petrol – just in case Garies has a power failure. I really need to take on fuel at the last possible opportunity. (Ai, I again missed the opportunity to take a picture of the Gifberg, just to the South-East of Vanrhynsdorp. It’s a rather imposing sight.) Garies’ electricity is up and running, and so is the fuel station, so we fill up there again.
From Garies we take the gravel road to Hondeklipbbaai. Some 70km’s later we turn left into the Namaqua National Park.
Our group leader, Martin, is camping at Bouldersaai from Monday already, some 22 km south of the entrance gate. I assume this gate is not as busy as, say, Piccadilly Circus. Gerrit assists us with the paperwork and signs us in. He also advises that Martin and his son left the camp an hour ago, heading for Hondeklipbaai, but without his trailer. His trailer will be pitched at Boulderbaai. We have the whole site booked for our group, so we can make camp anywhere we like. Now how cool is that, ek sê.
The road to Boulderbaai is still easy going, with no 4×4 required. We saw a few Antidorcas marsupialis too.
Unfortunately it would appear that even in this faraway area crime has had its effect. However, it is clear that the Parks authorities do not lack resourcefulness. This deterrent should fix any would be gate crasher.
The road is clearly marked.
Boulderbaai
My GPS takes me right to the Bouldersbaai camping site. Yes, I realise that this is indeed what this bit of technology is supposed to do. But these roads are not necessarily to be found on maps. This was also the last destination in the Park that my GPS was able to find a road to. As for the rest it could not calculate a route to the other destinations.
Martin had his rig pitched at site number 2. Site number 6 is closest to (and right next to) the sea, with number 1 furthest away. Site number 6 seems like a good spot to pitch camp. Imagine sleeping with the sea roaring in your ears.
At site number 6 we find the complete skin shed by a puff adder. The whereabouts of the puff adder is a mystery, though. Upon reconsideration we then decide it is a stupid plan to camp right next to the sea. Too noisy. So we opted for site number 1 instead.
After pitching out tents I let down my tyres to 1,5 bar. The Spoegriver caves are less than 5km’s away, and we want to spend some time there. Just then Martin arrives.
Spoegrivier grotte
Martin decides to rather wait for the next vehicle of our group to arrive, so we drive down to the caves on our own. It is pretty thick sand, with 4×4 now required. I would normally not want to do that on my own, but at least Martin will know where to come looking for us if we do not return. Not so, Martin?
I can’t help but get this grin on my face listening to the Mazda’s 3.4 petrol engine doing that effortless woeroe-woeroe-woeroe at 1500 rpm in first gear high range. At one stage I overestimate the challenge of the thick sand ahead and go to low range. What a frustration. Later I’m in low range fourth gear, and it’s still too noisy to my liking. It’s really too much effort for the result. Back to high range first or …
Namaqualand National Park – Part 2
Friday, 6 April
Departure from Boulderbaai
Unfortunately we were not able to book Boulderbaai for the full duration of our stay. We only had it for one night. So, on day two we have to pack up and move camp to Varswaterbaai.
We awoke to a wet Namakwaland. A few showers fell during the night (huge drops, but fortunately not much of it), and everything is wet. As it is still overcast, however, it was clear that it will take the whole day if we wish to wait for the tents to become sufficiently dried out to pack it up.
It takes a while for the whole group to be packed up and ready to go.
The amenities at the campsites are basic roofless longdrop toilets serve to fulfil the bare needs. It sports proper toilet seats, nogal. However, in the nature of longdrops, it does become tiresome keeping your lips tightly sealed together for the duration of the visit to the amenity. And one should also not make the mistake of holding your breath until you hear the …… aag, nevermind.
SpoegrivierGrotte – again
By 11h30 we depart. First we head north for the Spoegriver Caves for the benefit of those who arrive too late yesterday to go and have a look.
Just before one descends down to the caves you can see the Spoegrivier mouth in the distance.
It is Easter Friday. Our in-house co-travelling minister of religion does a short sermon and we have communion.
One tends to concentrate on the face of the cave, whereas there are some other interesting rock formations if you care to just walk around the cave a bit.
This Toktokkie had a bad day. It seems like he was kidnapped by the ants and taken to their home.
[Part 3 to follow]
PG Jonker…