Into Damaraland
A breakfast fit for champions starts the day and sees us off from the Sophienhof lodge, a peaceful place we’d love to come back to some day. Comfortable and quiet… but that’s not what this trip is about. We came here to ride our bikes, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. 123 kilometres of road separate us from our destination, Khorixas.
We hit the road keen and strong, making quick progress riding side by side and chatting, enjoying the trip and the road. Luckily, this road has much less traffic than yesterday’s, which lets us enjoy the cycling. The kilometres fly by and the landscape changes, turning into desert as the vegetation slowly disappears.
Today’s stage takes us into the bantustan of Damaraland. In the north-west of the country, covering almost 48,000 km2, it is the present-day homeland of the Damara people. We’ve read that the most widely spoken language in the area, apart from English, is Nama. I’ve tried to learn the basic words in my guidebook, but I think the pronunciation is more than a little tricky. I can’t wait to hear someone speaking Nama to see if it’s as hard as it looks.
But as well as the Damara, this is also home ground for the African elephant. Will we be “lucky” enough to run into one?
Although we’re making good progress, we can feel the kilometres. The heat and the dry air leave our mouths parched and the litres of water vanish. The distances between villages are huge, and between one village and the next there’s nothing but desert. I think we’ve been overconfident; we’ll have to ration it.
Although we’re going fast, very fast, averaging over 27 km/h, so long in the saddle without changing position is starting to take its toll on our backsides. Sadly there’s nowhere interesting to stop, and we have to make do with a few basic rest areas that at least have some shade to shelter from the all-day sun. Mind you, there’s no buying water or anything to eat.
The stage ends up feeling long. We arrive worn out and dreading tomorrow’s stage: 98 kilometres to the White Lady lodge, on Mount Brandberg, 80 of them on gravel tracks in who knows what condition. But today, for now, good tarmac.
At last we reach Khorixas, the administrative capital of Damaraland. With only 11,000 inhabitants, it has nothing whatsoever to offer tourists, but it’s interesting in a different way: here we can see what real life is like in Namibia, far from the comforts of the white man (usually of German descent) who lives in the lap of luxury in a, let’s say, different Africa. But not Khorixas. This is Africa.
Even so, the campsite we’re staying at is pretty and comfortable, and once again we have grass to pitch the tent on. A luxury in this part of the world. We head for the shower and the water purifies us, washing away the dust and the doubts that today’s stage has raised about tomorrow’s, on much wilder ground. We treat ourselves to a Savanna Dry Premium Cider, an English-style cider made in South Africa that’s really good, while we watch the odd little critter.
We plan the stage after a trip to the supermarket (water, lots of water!), and now we feel confident. It’s going to be a great stage, we know it. Mind you, we need to sleep… and the party around us just won’t stop. Reggaeton has made it all the way here, noooooo!
