Dias Point, Luderitz

How windy is Dias Point really? Turns out: very. Based on several recommendations by fellow travelers, we set off to visit Namibia's windiest point, a teeny peninsula 19km south of Luderitz named Dias Point. I figured it would be a great opportunity to dust off the sand that collected in our pockets from Kolmanskuppe, and to bask in the glory of the Atlantic Ocean waves crashing against the merciless, rocky beach.

The dirt road is pleasant, but curvy enough that careless speed could ruin the journey, as the barren clay covered terrain rises and falls without pattern. Before we turned right to Dias Point, we watched a slew of cars continue south, following signs to Grosse Brucht, a popular yet particularly frigid swimming cove. I considered this briefly, but I prefer my beaches isolated, rocky, steep, tree lined, snow capped...actually, my perfect beach is a mountain.

We arrived to our destination: a camping area to the right, a red-roofed bar to the left, and a tall stone cross marking the spot where Portuguese navigator Bartolomeu Dias placed his own victorious slab of rock in 1488. It was placed in honor of King John II of Portugal upon Dias' return from the southernmost tip of Africa. He was the first known European to have reached the Indian Ocean from the Atlantic. The original rock has since disappeared, but the spot remains a national monument.

Stepping out of the car we noticed immediately that it was quite windy. I took a minute to read a dilapidated sign indicating we use caution near the bridge and staircase. No doubt: the wooden causeway was a total disaster, hanging on for dear life while water endlessly dumped over the slabs of wood. The thickly rusted metal "hand rail" was unstable, swinging disdainfully in many sections, forcing all of us to stoop low, one hand on a child and other on the stairs to avoid getting blown off. It would have been so satisfying to have a anemometer to see just how fast the wind raced past us, but I had to settle on watching Mark lean into it. The kids chose to hide behind the barricades, with tears of adventure (not fear, I swear!) streaming down their cheeks.

The view up on Dias Point is fantastic: huge ocean waves, endless rocky coast, oblivious Cape fur seals snoozing on an island, and a wide blue sky. We enjoyed it long enough to take a picture, and crept down to safety for more exploration. The beach here has zero sand, but millions of rocks and seashells along the cove. The kids helped me collect about 40 pounds worth of shells, sponges, rocks, and bones. I have no idea what we will do with them, but at the time, the mass collection seemed totally necessary.

With the windy and cool weather, it was easy to forget about the sun diligently shining down. I finally looked up from my searches, realizing we'd spent over ninety minutes on the beach and each of us desperately thirsty. Even better, I realized no one had started a fight, no one whined, no one complained- that "no one" being me. We walked over to the bar for some refreshment before driving back into town. 

Before we totally left Dias Point, Mark wanted to take picture of an isolated house opposite the peninsula. I had totally forgotten we could see flamingos, and he happened upon a duo on the shore. They took flight, completing his shot in the most perfect way. 

Heading to the Point

Yes. Still windy. 

The causeway.

You too, can have THIS much fun at Dias Point. Photo credit: Mark

Seal corpse

Flamingoes! Credit: Mark

Kolmanskuppe: the Parade of Homes for Namibia

When I was a child, my mom enjoyed going to the Parade of Homes, an event where people could pay money to gawk at fancy new houses filled to the brim with the latest taste in art and themes. Apparently it's been a popular past-time for many folks since 1949. She told me she liked going to get decorating ideas, but our house decor never really changed. I think the Parade of Homes is a cool idea, but since the houses were all new, they felt sterile and without a story to tell.

With my parents here for a visit, I thought I would do a likeness and take them to Kolmanskuppe, a town just outside of Lüderitz that was once filled with grandiosity, now a legitimate ghost town slayed by high winds and literally, tons of sand.

The story began in 1908 when a railway worker (Zacharias Lewala) found a diamond while working in the area. He showed it to his boss, a Swiss railway inspector named August Stauch. His name would be forever attached to the discovery and wealth, not so much for poor ol' Z. When August realized the sandy area was stuffed with diamonds, he and a buddy bought 75 acres of land and claimed the diamonds their own. According to the guided tour we attempted to stay with, (his speech was eerily similar to Wikipedia's) the diamonds came from the Orange River and washed into the ocean over millions of years ago. Waves and wind eventually brought them back into the Namib Desert, an area that fills 81,000km² of the country from stern to stem, along the entire western edge.  

When August claimed his fame, the diamonds weren't secret for long. A diamond rush set in, and the German government took over the area quickly, enforcing rules, regulations, and taxation fees. Ludertiz enjoyed a six year economic boom until 1914, when it all went to pot with World War I and the Great Depression. Mining continued for a few more years until bigger and better opportunities were found 270km further south... Kolmanskuppe was eventually abandoned in 1954.

During Kolmanskuppe's more lively time, German housing quickly sprung up. Headquarters was the Goerke Haus, home to the diamond mining director. The house was built like a Bavarian castle with a high stone foundation, rounded mural walls, thick brown trim, and a stately clock tower. The house contained a 9-pin bowling alley, a casino, theater, a massive kitchen, and other assorted rooms with wide ceilings and old timey, exposed electricity fixtures that reminded me of Frankenstein's time on the table.

As for the rest of the town, there was a school house, an ice factory, hospital, blacksmith shop, and bathrooms once equipped with luxurious bathtubs. How they managed decent plumbing in the middle of the desert, I am unsure. Regardless, with nonstop wind and oatmeal colored sand constantly shifting across the barren landscape, the residents had to keep most activities inside. 

Whatever happened to August? Like most romantic tales go, his fortune's worth depleted with economic decline, forcing him to return home to Switzerland where the poor man died from stomach cancer in 1947.

Nowadays, Kolmanskuppe is a popular and worthwhile place to visit. The entrance fee covers the English or German speaking tours, but unless you have bionic hearing, it's better to find the details in a book or ask the souvenirs shopkeeper. Besides, the best part is wandering from building to building where you are at the mercy of broken glass, rusted metal, and splintered wood. Enter through a door, leave by a window: there's basically no rules and 100% of the rooms are filled with sand drifts. Each room tells a story, with peeling paint, caved in ceilings, fingerprints on the windows still standing. 

You can buy the early bird photography pass to enter the gates at sunrise (and leave at sunset) which promises three things: really cool shadows and lighting, and fresh, untouched sand drifts. But really, Kolmanskuppe is another place that's easy to take a decent picture no matter your skill. The kids were in heaven, swimming in sand and darting through the hallways like monsters of the night. They played hide and seek, made sand angels and made up stories of who once lived in the "pink room" or the "turquoise room." 

We left Kolmanskuppe windblown and with about ten extra pounds of sand in the car, but the adventure itself more than made up for it. Beginners tips: 1. You can buy your ticket at the gate OR buy them head of time at Lüderitz Safaris and Tours in the town of Lüderitz. The saleslady we bought ours from was super crotchety and annoyed we bothered her on a Sunday morning. 2. Sunglasses are a godsend- if not for the sun, but the windy conditions. 3. Kkip the tour unless you are really into that sort of thing. 

Go to Kolmanskuppe's official website: http://kolmanskuppe.com/ for hours and contact info. Call them if you want to get an actual answer from an actual person. Otherwise, send an email and never hear from them at all.