Namibia chapter eleven
Sossusvlei and the Namib desert by air.
Birds have come to the lodge to drink, forming a line on the edge of the pool. They’re matched by a thin line of clouds in the sky.
I’m surprised to see the clouds, the skies having been so clear since my arrival. Jo tells me that it disappoints some guests, expecting clear blue skies above the dunes. I tell her I look forward to the promise of a dramatic sunset.
After lunch I ask Wilhemina if she’s ready for our flight. She is. But when Chicco comes to fetch us, she’s still working. You don’t look ready, I tease. She quickly takes off her apron and we follow him to the car.
It’s a short drive to the helipad, it sits just off the main access road. I had wondered what it was when I arrived, and I’m happy to know. One of the doors of the helicopter is off, but the other is on. I wonder if Wilhemina had requested that.
Johannes gives us a quick safety briefing and tells us how to use the comms; most importantly, he tells us how to tuck the mic away to avoid excess wind noise. He tells us that if there’s too much wind noise coming off our headset he’ll turn it off. He tells us that we’ll be traveling over 100 miles an hour and not to lean out the doors. I’m surprised there’s only a lap belt; I had expected a harness.
A sticker facing us tells us everything is going to be ok. I tap Wilhemina on the shoulder, point it out to her, and smile.
Johannes starts the rotors turning and we see Chicco back away to the car. The blades gain speed, slicing through the air with a cadence familiar from films and tv shows. They reach speed and then we are slowly rising into the air. It’s a smooth ascent and I’m surprised at my lack of reaction as I watch the earth recede from underneath our feet. We pitch slightly forward and then we’re speeding over the ground.
We fly over the desert around the lodge, seeing from the air landscapes I had traversed by land in the days before. I see large areas of fairy circles, the mountains we’d wound around; a fork in the road, one path leading to the ATVs, the other towards dunes I’d explore later; the ATV shed.
Quickly, we leave the familiar behind. The Namib desert stretches out in every direction. Surprisingly, the landscape is ever-shifting. Here, rocky and mountainous, there, made up of sand dunes and drifts. In between, ripples gesture towards a curious future.
It’s incredible. A collection of dunes nestle tightly against each other like frosting on a sheet cake. Serpentine dunes slither towards the horizon. Waves of dunes stretch below us in even, long periods. Craters form where sand dunes appear to have crashed into each other.
We’re flying too fast to take it all in. I wish we could slow everything down, fly in slow motion so that I can gaze my fill at each new aspect of the desert before moving onto the next. But we have finite amounts of fuel and we’re racing towards the sea.
Light shimmers on the horizon. It’s the ocean. The light of late afternoon sun bounces off its surface.
Johannes brings us lower. The desert shifts as the craft descends. The dunes come close as we close in on the sea.
We arrive. The dunes soften; sand slips into the sea. Waves of blue replace the waves of red and yellow sand we’ve been accustomed to, cresting white. The temperature drops.
We are over the water, having left the land behind. Johannes angles the helicopter to the left and we fly parallel to the land. The ocean is teeming with life. Seals darken the waters and the rocky shore. There must be thousands below us giving the colony its name: Black Rock.
Johannes tells us he’ll fly south for a bit and then come back around. He flies us to a cave in the rocks and hovers a moment. White dots hide within. Penguins! I now understand what Tangeny had said about the cave. Given his description I thought we flew into a cave, now I know what he meant.
We fly north once more, past the colony of seals. It’s an awesome sight, and I’m surprised how high up on the dunes some of them have gone.
Once again, I wish we could linger, but after a slow pass up the golden coast we turn and head west, back towards the lodge.
We’re heading towards Sossusvlei and Deadvlei over now semi-familiar landscapes, even so, the desert astounds.
Before I know it, we are above Deadvlei. Big Daddy looms behind the pan and I am amazed to be seeing the landscape from an even higher viewpoint than the day before. Johannes circles the pan, and I wish I were harnessed so that I could lean out of the helicopter to get better better angles of the view below.
All too soon we move on. Johannes flies in the direction of the road into the park and we begin to follow it east.
From the air we again see familiar dunes made unfamiliar by the heights from which we see them. I can see the parking lots, but few cars appear to be parked in them, few people dot the dunes.
We continue flying east. The sun falls behind us, deepening the desert hues.
Patterns and shapes reveal themselves below us. Fairy circles, yes, but also the ghosts of rivers and streams, their now-dry paths etched into the sand.
Johannes approaches a mountain, lifting the helicopter up and onto it. He shuts down the motor and we wait as the rotors come to a stop. He unloads a table and tablecloth and a spread of snacks, courtsey of andBeyond. I opt for a glass of rose sparkling wine and toast Wilhemina in celebration of our first flight. She moves to pour, but I take the bottle from her. You’re my guest, I tell her, offering her a plate of h’ors d’oeurves.
I ask Wilhemina about herself and learn that she has a four-year old daughter. She shows me pictures and she’s totally adorable. She tells me that her two week break starts on June 5th. She’s counting down the minutes and seconds.
I ask Johannes how he became interested in becoming a helicopter pilot. He tells me he’s the son of a wealthy man, and that he’s been on helicopters his entire life. He was too young to remember his first flight. I ask him what his father said when he decided to become a pilot. Johannes laughs.
Johannes tells me it’s up to me when I want to leave, though I know they don’t fly at night. I ask Wilhemina if she has anything to attend to and she says no. We decide to wait until the sun touches the horizon. There’ll be just enough time for Johannes to drop us off and then fly the short distance to the hangar before it gets dark.
There’s been chatter on the radio all the way from Fish River Canyon. Johannes thinks it might be a search and rescue. I ask if he’s done that before. He hasn’t but he’s done a lot of animal relocation where they use helicopters to herd animals into areas where they can catch and then move them by truck. Being a helicopter pilot in Africa sounds like a dream.
When we board the helicopter for the flight back Johannes asks me if I want to sit in front. Do I?! I climb into the front and Wilhemina sits in her seat by the door. I ask her if she wants to sit in the seat without the door and she smiles and says no. I look at the pedals in front of me. I shouldn’t touch anything, should I? Nope.
It’s a quick flight back to the andBeyond; it’s just in the valley behind the mountain. I thank Johannes for the flight and ask for his Instagram. Chicco is waiting to take us back to the lodge, and we wave to Johnnes as he takes off to return the helicopter to its hangar.
Jo is there to greet us when we arrive. She’s dancing and tells me she always has music in her head. She asks me how the flight was and I tell her it was incredible, that all of Namibia is incredible. She tells me that no one knows where Namibia is, but that’s changing because of the oil. That said, she doesn’t like it when foreigners come to staff all the new jobs. She wants them to come and teach Namibia how to do the jobs so that in three to five years Namibia can be independent of foreign aid. She wants the discoveries to elevate Namibians and, in turn, Namibia.
I’m offered a hot towel and I tell them they should offer one to Wilhemina first. They then make a show out of welcoming her back as a guest, asking her how the flight was and how she’s enjoying her stay in an eggerated manner that makes us all laugh.
For dinner, I ask to be served the staff meal, hoping they don’t go out of their way to prepare anything on my behalf. It’s a delicious chicken stew served with pap, a corn-meal accompaniment that reminds me ugali, though this is lighter and tastier. Or maybe it’s the chef that makes it better. I finish the stew, soaking up every last bite with pap, but I can’t finish all my pap. It’s just too much.
As I eat, a jackal comes to visit my table. He stands on the rocks, just by the concrete patio, hopeful but uncertain whether to expose himself further. I try to make conversation, but he’s uninterested in sharing or learning anything about me.
The skies just after the sunset are incredible. 🇳🇦
27 May 2024
