The elephant route
In the end the reggaeton scare was just that, a scare, and we had a quiet night which, together with the beating we’d taken on the bikes, meant we slept like logs. Even so, we got up early: a hard day lay ahead and we had to set off as soon as possible. At seven in the morning we left for Mount Brandberg. This mountain (a massif, really) is home to the highest point in Namibia, the Königstein, at 2573 metres. It also has a wealth of rock paintings. We’ll be lucky enough to visit one of them, perhaps the most famous, known as the White Lady.
Today will be our first stage off the tarmac, with almost 100 kilometres of gravel and sand tracks to reach one of the most beautiful places of the trip, both for its spectacular landscape and for its wildlife, led by the mighty African elephant. The first part of the stage raises our hopes: the track is good and we make steady progress. Little by little the kilometres tick by, and it looks as if we’ll arrive at a reasonable hour. Perhaps we’ve loaded up with too much water.
The landscape grows more and more arid, the sand swallows the vegetation, and at every bend we think we see an animal… but no, there’s no sign of life. Solitude keeps us company along this track where, every now and then, a car breaks the soft sound of our tyres on the ground, reminding us that we’re not alone in this country.
Although, to be honest, there is some sign of life. Though the sight of it baffles us rather. Who put this here? And what for?
The hours slip by almost without our noticing, and we start to make out something on the horizon. Mount Brandberg begins to show itself and we’re thrilled: we can see our destination in the distance, and we’re getting closer. I know, it sounds silly, but after several days of empty horizons, the sight strikes us as majestic.
We ride on happily until kilometre 60, 40 from the end. There we leave the main track, which heads for Uis, to take the one that will lead us to our destination on Mount Brandberg. As soon as we turn off we see that things change, and how. The track becomes a real trail, though for now it seems to be in good condition. Mind you, no traffic and no life. Total, absolute solitude. Let the adventure begin!!
We ride alone, completely alone, for hours. That solitude wears down and softens the track (and our spirits), turning it alternately into corrugations or a beach. Corrugations, or tôle ondulée as the French call them, are the worst. It feels (I imagine) like riding over a corrugated roof. Sometimes the ridges are closer together, sometimes further apart, but they always have the same effect: constant bouncing. And yes, with panniers it’s much worse.
Luckily gravity is on our side: the track runs gently downhill and we can keep going. Even so, everything gets heavier and heavier and we get more and more tired… and the worst is yet to come. 20 kilometres from our destination we take the turn-off that should lead us straight to the lodge, but it turns out to be a sandy track that gradually gets softer until it forces us off the bikes.
With the panniers loaded, all we can do is push the bikes while the track, far from improving, keeps getting worse, and we have no idea when it will improve or whether it ever will. We decide it’s impossible to carry on and get the map out to look for an alternative to this sandy track. This is where we’re most grateful for how well both the GPS and the Tracks4Africa digital maps we bought for the trip have worked. Luckily, we find an alternative and, though it’s a far cry from a motorway, it’s rideable. This new route is only a couple of kilometres longer.
Little by little we press on. Sand, corrugations, more sand… and what’s that smell? 5 kilometres from our destination we cross the bed of the Ugab River, completely and utterly dry. And there’s that smell again…
Tired, absolutely shattered, we reach the lodge. We check in, have a drink and go to pitch the tent as soon as possible so we can rest. The moment we step out of reception we come face to face with a big elephant. Maybe it wasn’t that big, I don’t know, but it certainly looked huge to us. And there’s only one thing better than seeing an animal like this, and that’s seeing it in the wild. Big, huge, unflappable. Majestic. Right in front of us, eating the plants that welcome visitors to the lodge as if they were its own. Although, come to think of it, they are. We’re the visitors, the foreigners who’ve come to bother them. We’ll try to bother them as little as possible, in case they get cross… Well, now we know what that smell was. And I’m sorry, but the elephant didn’t like us and we left without taking any photos.
Honestly, it’s one of those things that make a trip worthwhile. The campsite is beautiful, perhaps the best place I’ve ever reached by bike in my whole life. Once again, luxury in the middle of nowhere. Who’d have thought we’d be camping in elephant country?
As soon as we’d pitched the tent, a woman accompanying a group of German tourists came over to us shouting No way!, asking whether we’d really got here by bike, and then explaining that it was the first time in her life she’d seen cyclists in this area. We can’t hide a certain pride, and we start to think we’ve pulled off a small feat.
And what do you make of this simple, effective way of heating water?
By the way, the bathrooms had no roof. One more exotic touch for such a magnificent place. We made the most of nightfall to take a few photos of the campsite before tucking into a huge dinner to get our energy back.
I want one of these…
Just before dinner, from inside the restaurant, we once again watched the elephants stroll through the lodge’s lovely garden (sorry, through their lovely garden), grabbing a snack before bed. Once again, we couldn’t have been in a better place. Although I can’t help thinking how little protection our tent offers against an elephant. Best to let them eat in peace.
What a day! Time to rest a little: it’s been a lot of kilometres and emotions for a single day. Tomorrow we have a short trek and only 45 kilometres on the bike, an easy day to recover a little before heading for the coast.