Schlink Attack: Sweaters, Sand, Salt, Ships, and Seals in Swakopmund

Here in Windhoek, Namibia, we routinely get asked if we have been to Swakopmund or Luderitz yet. (Or, the Caprivi region, the Zambezi region, Etosha, Erindi, Sossusvlei, and about a hundred other must-see locations.) As non-beach people having lived on the beach for two years in Brazil, we weren't rushed to visit the beach, but acquiesced after dealing with confused faces of why it hadn't happened yet after one year of living here. We took a quick road trip to Swakopmund, one of Namibia's favorite coast towns last weekend. Due to veld fires (wild fires) the week prior, Windhoek had been congested with ash and haze that blocked out the sun and endless blue sky. We figured the timing was good to get fresh ocean air and do some fancy camping.

Getting to Swakopmund via the short route means driving on paved 2-lane highways for an estimated 3.5 hours. Add on another 60 minutes depending on how many semi trucks are on the road. It was an uneventful arrival and setup at our grassy campsite, and extremely cold (by Namibia standards, we have been here a year after all) with the low hanging humidity. I had all my layers on, while Margo drenched herself with a forgotten sprinkler and Deets ran around in shorts, as usual. Night came quickly and by 8pm we were all huddled in our sleeping bags.

By 6am all of us were wide awake, so the kids packed up their suits and towels, insisting they'd be swimming and fighting waves by 7am. The thing about Swakopmund water is that the Benguela Current swirls north from Antarctica making the water quite cold with biggish waves crashing against the shore. Rich in nutrients, it's a happy place for oysters to grow uncharacteristically fast, but not ideal for swimming, especially for a pansy-pants like myself. The Benguela is so important for Namibia, South Africa, and Angola that they created their own commission to preserve the precarious balance of sustaining the ecosystem and industries for fishing, diamond mining, and oil and gas extraction.

Like the sky, the water was grey and drab and no one was going to swim, so we went in search of coffee. The town certainly has a personality, but it's not one that wakes early. The only people we saw that morning were fishermen heading to the pier. We walked past mismatched architecture: 80's mod, deco, gingerbread, colonial, concrete fab, all tossed with ominous German war memorials that were stained with red paint. We saw the 1903 striped lighthouse used to warn sailors of the treacherous Skeleton Coast as far out as 20 miles at sea and a few taunting museums that wouldn't open for at least three more hours. A bloody Mary, espresso, and hot chocolates later we passed through a few touristy streets stuffed with souvenir and ice cream shops before making our way back to the campsite to get out of dodge and checkout Dune 7, south of Swakop on the C34, the country's highest dune at 1,256 feet.

Dune 7 is pretty cool. There's no entrance free to pay, takes 15-20 minutes to climb/crawl to the top and its yellow sand is extremely photogenic. The trash there however, is not cool. We hiked past too many discarded bottles, cans, and grocery bags blowing in the wind. I pocketed some trash to feel better about it, but with an unattended park entrance, bus loads of visitors, and zero trash cans around, the gesture was fruitless. So we made a few sand angels, took nerdy photos, and ran down the dune to drive north of Swakop.

The C34 also takes you north to Cape Cross. Beyond, the road ambles further to Torra Bay and Mowe Bay where the desolate, unloving terrain of the Skeleton Coast rules over everything. To go beyond these places, you need things like permits, a guide, guts, jerry cans and your own water to gain entry. I dream of making this trek with the family one day.

Anyway, this crunchy dirt road has plenty to see. We visited the 2008 Zeila fishing trawler wreck, a boat destined to India to be used for scrap metal. Instead, it met its fate after the Zeila came loose from its tow line shortly after leaving Walvis Bay. If felt like the middle of nowhere until vendors swarmed the car with offers of colorful rocks, makalani palm nut keychains (sold at a premium), and a look-at-it seal skeleton laid out in the sand. I still can't figure out where they were hiding.

Onward, we drove past snow white salt pans, their factories, and lone road side stands selling chunks of pink salt. Up here it's the honor system, each stand with its own slotted plastic jar. I squealed with delight over this, and pretty much squeal about it now even though both kids all but eat their personal salt licks. Beyond that was the original spot where Diego Cao claimed the land for Portugal back in 1486, and Cape Cross where Cape fur seals live in the thousands. The grunting and the bleating and the smell was just SO spectacular as we walked upon the walkway made of 100% recycled plastic. Really though, we watched seals nap, fight, nurse, walk, play, and swim. Their sheer quantity stretched in both directions along the rocky coast. As far is grand finales go in Namibia, this was spot on.

Mindful of our 5:30 dinner reservation at new brewery, we headed back for a final night in Swakopmund before blowing our minds a second time on the alternative road we took back home: the legendary C28...