Pink Lakes of Walvis Bay

After indulging on a desert tour, swimming in the ocean, visiting the aquarium, eating at massive amounts of fatty, fine food, and going to bed in an exhausted stupor for two days, it was my turn to choose. While I was researching things to do while in Swakopmund, I found a few blogs and travel sites that preached the glory of pink salt lakes located south of Walvis Bay. 

I decided I needed to see these for myself because the photos on the blogs looked ultra filtered and super fake. We drove toward Salt Works, also known as Walvis Bay Salt Holdings. It is Africa's largest salt manufacturer, putting out 700,000 tons of salt every year. 

Fun fact: evaporated seawater, once fully processed makes up a content of 99.4% sodium chloride. Water is pumped from the Walvis Bay Lagoon and dumped on what they call pre-evaporation ponds and concentration ponds. Wind and sun essentially brine the contents of the water to the point where layers crystallization can occur. The layers of crystals get scraped off and transported to a washing plant where calcium sulfate and magnesium are removed before undergoing further washing and drying. Bulk salt then gets shipped locally and worldwide from the Walvis Bay port. 

The southbound D1986 road leads you to the entrance of Salt Works, so if you veer right into the seemingly nothingness of the salt flats, eventually you will drive past the pink salt reserves on the left. 

And, yes. They are as pink as they look on the internet. The large plots of pink, salty, water are sectioned off by grey-brown dirt moats. The water's edges are coated with what looks like sludgy sea foam, but up close are actually salt crystals. I admit, there are one or two signs along the road that say "stay on the road" but I had to get a picture or two, so we stopped just long enough that I could jump out and get some. 

Beyond the salt flats, the road eventually peters out to a beach where people can stand in the wind and watch the ocean. Or maybe they could kayak. Other than that, there is little else out there. Except for birds. Walvis Bay is stuffed with pelicans, cranes, and flamingos, and makes the whole experience twice as pink. And about fifteen times more stinky. Wildlife. What can you do? 

At Pelican Point 

The Little Five of Namibia

Deets likes to say he is a reptile, a reasonable supposition considering that he is president of Snake Town, the place where reptiles rule and pigeons wage war. Mark and I decided that a trip to the coast for a living desert tour would be a good idea. Here we would see the "Little Five" of Namibia: 4 reptiles and a spider. The trip was a surprise, so we picked up the kids from school (a rare treat for them) and headed west to the Atlantic Ocean.

Swakopmund is a very popular tourist destination, but I can't say it is my favorite place in Namibia. The town has a weird feel, it's rarely sunny, and the pale and pipelined moonscape surrounding the town makes my soul feel withered and isolated.  But, there is something to be said about being near the water, and the restaurants here are quite good.

We booked a family room at the Delight Hotel, part of the Gondwana conglomerate chain. The second I walked in, I knew I made the right decision. The hotel is colorful and punchy. The staff were kind. The room was cozy and chic plus they had the softest towels. In a town that was cold and hazy, the hotel was, in a word: delightful. 

Around 8:00 am the next morning our group of 6 adults and 6 kids would pile into the 4x4s of Charly's Desert Tours and take off for the Dorab National Park, a short 60 second drive to edge of town. Seriously, the edge of Swakopmund city life quickly disappears into the sand dunes. Imagine the history this place has buried beneath it.

We didn't have to wait long to find out. While the guides were busy searching for signs of animal life, another guide gathered the group around a long stretch of bleached horse’s bones left over from World War II. True to its name, WWII affected far more than Europe and the Pacific. Bitter, bloody fights raged throughout Southern Africa. Fingers and guns were pointed in all directions. 

The bones show that horses were lined up and shot, perhaps due to malnutrition, perhaps for revenge on the enemy. Either way, propaganda was at a fever pitch and the stories left behind are not easily forgotten. Alas, the guide continued to weave bits and pieces of Namibia’s history, sharing details of the beautiful tribes, traditions, and languages that have shaped the country that it is today.

In the meantime, the scouts were hiking up dunes, looking for tiny indentations in the sand. A small V-shape in the sand indicated a Palmato gecko was resting about 15 cm beneath the surface. Nocturnal, translucent and 6 cm long, these geckos have internal organs that show a beautiful rainbow hue. When agitated or scared, these geckos “puff” themselves up to make them look bigger, though for humans trying to take pictures of them, they are remarkably, still tiny.

In a sloth-like fashion, aNamaqua chameleon meandered through a tangle of low succulent bushes. Its independent eyes scrolled the environment, its tail in a perfect curlicue as it made its summit. Namaqua chameleons are green-brown in color and regulate its body temperature by changing half of its body to a light grey in order to reflect heat. They lay eggs early in life (6 months) and reportedly run much faster than them, despite being sized more than four times bigger.

Fixing his the eyes to the horizon, the guide walked to a long line of broken concrete pyres from the days of inspired trans-Namibian railroad construction (late 1890’s). At the time, engineers forgot to accommodate for high and low tide changes. Since ocean tides are quite powerful and unrelenting, the result for the potential train line from Walvis Bay to Swakopmund was a disastrous one. In fact, the Martin Luther Museum, located on the outskirts of the city, houses a locomotive engine (the Martin Luther Steam Ox) that was ultimately abandoned. For train enthusiasts, it’s worth a visit. Otherwise…

Next to the blocks was a stick stuck in the sand, the next marker for dune life. No more than 4 cm down was the dancing white lady, cartwheeling spider. This venomous creature’s life is more horrifying than the praying mantis: there is a desert wasp that enjoys tracking them down to sting, paralyze, and lay eggs inside the spider so its babies can have a live and cozy food source upon hatching. The spider, when threatened, will escape by rolling up its legs and cartwheel down the dune at a rate faster than the wasp can fly.

Found only by the broken sand trail it leaves along steep dunes, the shovel snouted lizard has a fantastic dance, picking up its feet in a side to side fashion to keep its feet from burning on the hot sand. These lizards bite no matter how big the predator, but when the time comes to escape they will dive into the sand face first and shovel themselves under.

As for the creepiest of all creatures, the sidewinder is considered second smallest of the snakes, maxing out at 30cm long (after the dwarf adder). These snakes blend painfully well into the sand, and feeding on lizards and geckos. The guides have to search for faint S-markings in the sand, which are often covered up by the wind. Be aware of these creatures as their bite is cytotoxic and neurotoxic. That means there is local tissue destruction and nervous system effects. In effect, a bite from one of these will result in something much worse than an owie and a headache. 

Sadly, no sidewinders could be found. We went home snakeless, but Deets did not feel cheated since he was the glorified ringleader of all the kids who ran up and down the dunes, screaming their heads off like tea kettles in response to our lifting of the Cone of Silence when the guides were speaking. 

Wrapping up the tour with a barf worth bang, the guides took pleasure of taking us on a torture rumpus ride up and around the dunes before returning to the tar road. If given the choice to die, I might have taken it. At what point in my life did I turn into an old woman who can't handle a little bit of roller coaster action? We arrived back to the hotel where I immediately crawled into bed like a hungover, flu-ridden, miserable human being who was forced to watch her prize pig disemboweled with a machete. Forty-five minutes later, I was right as rain. 

 

Very green things.

Where I am. 

Delight Lobby

Sherry bar. 

Palmato Gecko

Memories of WWII

An unimpressed looking chameleon.

Paparazzi. 

Cartwheeling, dancing lady spider.

Bird. 

The C28: Windhoek/Swakop Route

When we went on the C28 road, it was from Swakopmund to Windhoek, the opposite direction of how I ended up writing this blog. Really, the C28 was so fun and diverse that we are planning to drive to Swakopmund in coming weeks for the sole reason to drive it again. With extra barf bags and snacks that don't smell gross when they are barfed up again...

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If someone tells you to take the C28 road to/from Swakopmund, take it. Sure, it tacks on a few extra hours of driving, (even though it's technically shorter than the B1/B2) and is 90% dirt road, the sense adventure and epically gorgeous landscape make up for it. That's all of Namibia though, isn't it? 

C28 starts off as Sam Nujoma Drive in Windhoek, a street named after the country's first president. The fine, smooth pavement leads out of the city, past Daan Vijoen Reserve, and into the Auas mountains. Asphalt turns to dirt and the road compliments its winding self with your first views of Windhoek aloe plants standing in groups like "zombie sentries." A beautiful cooperative community has set up shop off the left hand side, complete with a sparkling white church and schools. When everything is so dry and vast, it's always a pleasure to see functioning and thriving life beyond the city.

Further in, the abandoned Liebig House stands alone on top of a hill with stern "forbidden entry notices" at the gate. Set on a stone foundation, faded yellow paint, rusted roof, and busted out windows, the house was obviously once extravagant. Built for farm managers of the Karl Liebig Company back in 1912, the house boasted a skittle-alley (German bowling) and the farm also had a school, shop, and post office. Cattle farming was only part of the Liebig company. According to Namib-web, the man himself, Justus von Liebig invented meat extract prior to the house being built. He had the mindset to provide alternative nutrition for those who could not afford meat. He named it after himself: Extractum carnis Liebig. Today we know it as Bovril, a red capped jar that is oddly stored next to Vegemite, a vegetarian yeast extract in the supermarkets. 

Through the years, the Liebig house went through other owners: a British secret agent, the South African Government, and Namibian photojournalist Margaret Courtney-Clark owns it now.

Not long after the Liebig house is a small four-room fort that was built as a German outlook post, but really, ended up being a place for soldiers to sleep off their hangovers. The sign at the base of the hill infers the same thing, and you can walk into the fort itself. Watch out for snakes though, because the grass is tall and untended.

Eventually, after a hundred more ups, downs, curves, and a region change from Khomas to Erongo, Bosua Pass peaks out at 1,728m (5,669 ft). There's two cool things to see here, and two not-so-cool things. First, there's a sign and map of the Kuiseb Ephemeral River Basin. Second, behind a pile of boulders is an open-air toilet. Obviously the view is cool, but what's not cool is that the toilet is a bottomless, rusted oil drum guaranteed to give you tetanus, and there's discarded toilet paper everywhere.

Moving down the backside, the landscape changes yet again. But, it's hard to describe: darker, greener, and definitely more vast. The road eventually flattens out, cuddled between two parks, Tsaobis Nature Park and Namib-Naukluft Park. There's no more fences to keep out the animals who will undoubtedly run across the road: oryx, springbok, and giraffe, to name a few. The birds get impressively bigger. On any particular day you may drive past a wake of lappet-faced vultures or a solitary kori bustard. Do animal sightings ever get boring? Not a chance.

Along the way, there are several detours of choice. Namibia Accommodation.com has a map to show what's beyond the C28. They are enjoyable because of their variability: hills striped with geological history, dolomite pillars that look not unlike the Organ Pipes in Kunene/Erongo region, sacred Welwitchia plants, and the eye-popping moonscape. If you do take the detours, remember to pick up a Namib-Naukluft Park permit to keep your travels on the up-and-up.

Finally, when the hills settle and you meet up with the above-ground pipeline, know that the end is near. Bland brown dust coats everything and it feels like the terrain deserves a few ostriches. While it is unlikely to see ostrich, you may enjoy cyclists suffering exercising, or sky divers floating in the wide open space. Dirt turns into pavement and the first signs of city life let you know that the next adventure is up: Swakopmund.

The co-op community's church and school buildings.
About an hour west from Windhoek.

The Liebig House was also haunted.
Must be one thirsty ghost way out here.

Von Francois Feste Monument

Bosua Pass toilet. The seat faces north, so it's not very feng shui.

Back side of Bosua Pass

Gnome-like rocks, as if they've been waiting for you all this time. Creepy.
Somewhere on the C28.

One of the ten vultures we saw taking flight.

Desert adapted giraffes.

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...

Sweaters in Swakopmund. 

I will never understand bathrooms
with lighthouse themed decor.
Or any other room for that matter.

Sand angels. 

Deets right before he tripped, landed on his head,
 and rolled down the rest of the way.
No child was injured during this session of dune running.

Piles of sodium chloride drying in the sun. 

Zeila Shipwreck 

Cape Cross chillin' 

Two birds with one stone: naps and nursing. 

Pick your own!