Roads in Damaraland

Tell me something. If you needed to go to Khorixas (cor-E-haas) and saw a road sign indicating Khorixas: turn right, and Torra Bay: turn left. You'd turn right. Right? 

Last week we traveled around Damaraland, a huge and rugged territory about 4.5 hours north of Windhoek. Actually, the region has been divided and renamed (Erongo in the south and Kuene in the north) but the name Damaraland still sticks. This land is the kind of spread that gives you goosebumps- either because of its seemingly emptiness (it never is! There's always someone randomly hanging out in the veld) or because of its untamed beauty. 

For four days we explored, encountering things like wild giraffes and elephants, six thousand year old rock paintings, and bold russety mountains. We drove our butts off on the washboard dirt roads which of course meant we would eventually need gas. At the crossroads, we saw our car had 1/4 tank of diesel left and Khorixas was the place to get it. ETA: less than one hour.

So I turned right. I drove. And drove. And drove, nervously glancing at the dwindling fuel range as the landscape turned from the occasional roadside village with huts selling crafts and tire repair services, to a space of rolling off-white hills dotted with deep brown shrubbery. And nothing else. The kids were passed out in the back and Mark was studiously ignoring my rising anxiety. I pictured our dried out skeletons seated against the rusted car with flat tires; a stern and visual lesson for other travelers to always be prepared. 

Despite this self-inflicted drama, 90 minutes later we made it Khorixas with only a few kilometers to spare. Refueled and nerves abated, we drove through the city onto the other side where we saw another road sign that directed us to return from whence we came, but in the opposite direction; in less than half the distance it took to get us there. The irony was not lost on me. Shoulda turned left.

Continuing on, we watched the land turn back into its whacky self as only Namibia can. Along the way we happened upon the UNESCO Petrified Forest and took a lunch break there. Any UNESCO site requires strict supervision, so we were assigned a tour guide to walk us past 120 million year old slabs of petrified fallen trees. Trees that made it to Namibia from the center of the continent, back when it was Gondwanaland. For some reason, the kids LOVED this tour of looking at mostly buried remnants of solid wood. They asked the guide all sorts of questions and were gaga with the notion that these trees were once the size of blue whales. 

Though the tour was quaint and slightly uninspiring, we learned few other floral tidbits. For example, the resin of the commiphora plant is in high demand in places known for making perfume, like France. Himba women burn the branches to extract its resin which is then mixed with red ochre and animal fat. They use it as a fragrance, moisturizer, and sunscreen. I broke off a twig and could smell the rich camphor-like scent. I tried to discreetly rub the twig under my armpits in hopes of dissipating the day's stress sweat. But I mostly ended up looking like a sun-dried ape with bad hair, picking nits off myself. 

We were also educated on the Welwitschia mirabilis plant, named after a botanist who apparently fell to his knees upon seeing them for the first time. Full grown, these coniferous plants look like piles of fat green ribbon strewn about. They can live up to 2,000 years but grow something sad like 2 cm/year. They are mega tough drought-resistant plants and widely admired for their rarity. The plants we walked past were still in their infancy (15 years old) with only two stubby leaves and a fat bark-like center. Talk about a lengthy lifeline. 

Finally I could check petrified wood off the list. Tipping our guide, we mentioned offhand that during the drive we saw a herd of wild giraffes crossing the road. He grew up in Khorixas and had been working at the UNESCO Petrified Forest for nearly 12 years, and he only ever saw giraffes once in his region back in 2012. Wow. I love that the odds were in our favor. 

You've entered Damaraland.

Sunset in Damaraland at the Aabadi Campsite.

 Damaraland, Brandberg Mountains- the highest in Namibia (8,441')
Credit: Mark

15 year old Welwitschia mirabilis
National plant of Namibia

Fully grown, probably 1,000 years old. Google image search. 

Checking for hollowness. Red/orange tints are from iron rich sedimentation, black from magnesium.
The trees were buried under 100s of feet of earth and have been slowly uncovered from erosion.

+/- the length of a blue whale.
The trees are part of the Cordaite family,
related to firs and spruces. Credit: Mark