Schlink Attack: Camping and assorted surprises, like hot water

The Gondwana Resort agent glanced sideways and whispered, "Ma'am, are you sure you want to go camping? That camp site has basically nothing. No shade, no trees, no water." I looked right back her, internally terrified that my skull would end up on the dusty plain with a snake creeping out of it, and responded with as much bravado as I could muster: "Absolutely. I love camping. I do it all the time."

I haven't camped in maybe ten years. And not once with kids.

Audibly sighing, the woman completed my transaction and I walked out of the office shell-shocked that I intentionally booked a camping trip to the Namib-Naukluft National Park, staying at Gondwana's apparently sparse, remote camp site. Here, we planned to see Hartmann mountain zebras in the mountainy parts, and hike the famous Sossusvlei dunes in the sandy parts. The agent did say that we could drive 6km to the actual lodge to use their swimming pool and dine in their restaurant, a consolation prize for our insanity.

I had about six weeks to prepare my pack list. The first thing I did: purchase a huge canopy and a 20 liter water tank. I contemplated our keep-cold-food stash when I encountered a filterless travel agent who asked me if I had a back up battery for my mini fridge. Mentioning I only had a couple of coolers and planned to use this thing called "ice," she raised her eyebrows and told me "good luck with that." I wrote out our four day menu that allowed for maximum taste in minimal space and froze giant bottles of water as my "back up battery." If there was any doubt, the sippy-sips cooler was methodically planned to have the proper proportions of g&t's, beer, and wine to last four days. I'm not an animal, you see.

I also sorted through musty winter clothes that haven't seen daylight since before Brazil. Desert nights can be unpredictable after all. I bought extra flashlights despite already owning seven, and even picked up a UV light to hunt nighttime scorpions. What would I do if I actually saw one? No clue. But I would be ready.

I pondered the need for shampoo, wondering how gauche it would be if we used the pool as our source of bathing. And I threw in an unnecessarily large amount of bug spray and sunscreen to ward off evil spirits. Gorilla tape and huge first aid kit? Always winners. As big day approached, Mark tossed me a monkey-wrench: possible rain in the forecast. For the desert?! In went the rain boots and jackets, and out went my mental health.

With everything packed or stuffed in the trunk and roof rack (greatest purchase EVER) we took off for an anticipated 3.5 hour drive south by south-west. I've mentioned this before: Namibian landscape is amazing and always dynamic, so as usual, we were not disappointed. About 90% of the roads were covered in thousands of corn crickets both dead and alive. Also known as armored katydids, these screechy creatures have spikes, sharp teeth, and love to eat each other to get their protein and salt fix. Apparently they also have the capability to auto-hemorrhage when a predator attacks. My kids spent a disgusting amount of time grabbing them by their leg and chucking them into the air during the trip.

We arrived to Gondwana Desert Lodge with plenty of time to hike up their petrified dunes and cliffs behind the lodge. The trail started off hot and boring enough, along a river bed with about 6 inches of sand to get through. Then we hit sandstone on the incline, which segued into rich red sand where the kids went wild. They experienced the glory of running down sand dunes. So did I. It was the first time in years I could "run" without hurting my body. 10km done and it was time to set up camp. Ready or not.

I have to admit, at first glance, the campsite seemed eery and isolated. Of the sites available, only two spots were taken but there were more trees than the agent said existed. We scoped out the spots and noticed all of them had: a standing grill (that got mysteriously cleaned during the day), a faucet, a Skatecity-esque camp light and even an electric socket. We chose a spot neither too close or too far from the "ablutions block" and set up. Anyone who's camped in the U.S. knows that outhouses are an intense experience so we avoided bathroom interaction until it was necessary. But these "roughing it" bathrooms contained actual flushing toilets with toilet paper. There were showers with hot water! There was even a kitchen prep sink to do dishes and clothes lines for use. Schlink score: everything was clean and smelled nice.

Of course we still had a few inconveniences. The first night was insanely windy and cold. Layers of sand entered the tents and we moved our them to face a different way in efforts to reduce the beach-effect. The wind simply changed directions. The second night, our car keys (both sets) went haywire, locking themselves in the car despite no one touching them. We had to break a window to get back into our car. Thank God for gorilla tape. And the third night was so stagnant and hot, that I flopped like a sweaty fish covered in bread crumbs (sand) on my fart-noise-making sleep pad. Plus both kids at one point barfed: one in the tent, the other on dad.

Overall, the experience was a win. It never rained, nor did we use our fancy 3x3 meter canopy- it was way too hot to spend the day at the campsite, returning only when the sun began to set. Having day long ventures is highly recommend to avoid the stagnant heavy heat at camp. But the time we got home, I was already planning our next camping trip not one hour after we finished unpacking the zillion pieces of sand and articles we brought home.