Namibia chapter one
The Quiver Tree Forest & Giant’s Playground.
The drive from Windhoek to Keetmanshoop is along a tarred two-lane highway. I share the road with truckers and the occasional SUV or Hilux. It seems like most of the vehicles are white.
When approaching trucks, the drivers will turn on their signal to indicate whether the road ahead is clear for passing. It’s a small thing, but it’s a lovely little gesture.
This morning I had meant to depart at 08h. It’s about a five hour drive without stopping and I wanted to get to Keetmanshoop in time for lunch. I asked the host of the AirBnB if I would need a keycard to get out of the parking garage. They said it should be no problem.
It’s a problem.
The guard tells me he needs to swipe my keycard to exit. I park the car and head upstairs to get the keycard from the lockbox outside the apartment. He swipes the card, I drive through and park on the other side and then take the elevator back up to the apartment to replace the keycard in its lockbox before heading back to the car. I thank the guard for his help and he helps navigate me out of the garage.
I’m excited to be on the road. I drive south past roundabouts and the edge of town. As the traffic thins and the open road looms, I spot a baboon on the side of the road. I queue up Ben Böhmer’s Cappadocia set for Cercle on the radio and keep the sun to my left.
As I drive out into the vastness of Namibia I feel a sudden existential awareness about the impermanence of life and the insignificance of my being against the expanse around me. The feeling isn’t one of sadness or loneliness; it’s more a feeling of understanding, of sensing one’s place in the universe and being thankful for the time and the opportunities offered. I carry the feeling with me as the kilometers pile up on the odometer and as the Hilux continues to make its way south towards the border.
Out of the corner of my eye I see a sign that demarcates the Tropic of Capricorn. I almost miss it. Fortunately, there’s a rest stop just ahead and I turn off to turn around to take a photo. The last time I saw such a landmark I was on the road from Salta to Humahuaca. There, it’s a concrete landmark. In Namibia along the B1 it’s a road sign.
I stop for gas in Mariental. I may not need it; Keetmanshoop isn’t that far, but it’s been drilled into me that I should stop for gas whenever I have the opportunity. Before leaving Windhoek, I bought a 15 litre jerry can just in case.
I spot few animals. A herd of goats, maybe. A few cattle. A few hours into my drive I see a flock of goats crossing the road. Their shephard tries to hurry them on. I slow down to almost a stop to give them ample time. He waves and I wave back, smiling. Next to the chat I had with the gas station attendant, it’s one of the few human interactions I’ve had since Windhoek.
Now and then I stop for construction areas, waving to the crossing guard as they wave me past. Once, when I am stopped to allow opposing traffic to pass I continue to stare ahead. In my peripheral vision the landscape still looks like its moving even though the truck in front of me is still. It’s a trippy experience.
Nearing Keetmanshoop I spot a radio tower next to the road. I’ve seen them sporadically on my drive and slow down to take a photo after checking to make sure there’s no one behind me. There are so few other vehicles on the road that I find myself forgetting to check my mirrors.
Just outside Keetmanshoop the Hilux tells me her name. It’s Olivia, like Coleman. I thank her for the gift of her name and thank her for taking me on this journey.
In Keetmanshoop I stop for gas. I ask the attendant where he’s from. Far. A village 2000 km to the north. By bus it takes a day to get there. I thank him for filling up the tank and tip him a small amount. I tell him I may see him again when I come to gas up before heading further south to Fish River Canyon.
Peony checks me into the Schuetzenhaus Guesthouse. There’s a conference going on but there are few guests staying the night she tells me. I ask if it’s possible to get lunch and she tells me it is. I sit in an outdoor courtyard eating after all the conference attendants have gone back inside. I write postcards while I wait. “You’re writing postcards,” Kaitlyn observes when she comes to take my order. Yes. I tell her it brings my friends to me when I write to them as I hold them in my mind and share this moment with them. I tell her that if she gives me her address I’ll send her postcards too. She does.
After lunch I check out the pool. Orangey red dragonflies buzz the water’s edge. I take a quick dip in the cold water before retiring to a lounge chair. It’s a welcome respite after the morning on the road.
In the morning I take an early breakfast. I want to head out as early as I can in order to avoid the mid-day sun. My destination is the nearby Quiver Tree Forest and Giant’s playground.
The Quiver Tree Forest sits about 17 km outside of Keetmanshoop. It’s a natural forest, having grown sponatenously over centuries; the tallest trees are 2-300 years old.
The trees themselves are indigenous to Southern Africa, specifically in the Nothern Cape province of South Africa and parts of Southern Namibia. The trees are so-named because the San people traditionally used hollowed out young trunks as quivers for their arrows.
I drove back along the B1 towards Windhoek and then turned right to head to the forest. Once off the main highway the road became gravel and I made my way to a campground and lodge that serves as the gatekeeper to the forest. I paid my entry fee and was directed where to go, parking Olivia near a campsite. Quiver trees abounded and I set off from the parking lot towards the nearest largest tree I could find.
What strikes me about the trees are not only their beautiful golden trunks, but the star-like cluster of leaves that form on the ends of their branches. The trees look mythical, as if they could only have been created by magic. I am enthralled.
At one point I crouch upon a slanted rock in search of a better angle. My position is unstable, however, and as I lower myself I feel myself falling backwards, as if in slow motion. I reach out to break my fall and scrape my knuckles, spraining my middle finger. It feels like a rock jabs into my back, but somehow I’ve strained a muscle. I wish someone could have been around to see it. I must have looked comical.
Undaunted, I continue wandering amongst the trees.
At one point I reach a fence and realize I’ve been outside the protected quiver tree forest. I follow the fence back towards the parking area and find a small opening in which to enter. I make my way into the enclosure and continue my exploration.
Even after I leave the official area, I can’t help but capture a few more trees just by the parking lot.
Back at the car park, I clean myself up as best as I can in a campsite bathroom before driving back to the main road. I take a left to continue towards the Giant’s Playground, a geological area comprised of dolorite boulders eroded to look as if they were blocks assembled by giant children.
I take the turnoff and let myself in through the gate. From the parking lot there’s an arrow directing me towards a path. A sign informs that if I find myself lost to climb to the top of a rock formation and wait for help. I make note of the advice and follow the path into the playground.
Soon I am amongst the stacked boulders of the playground. One formation looks like a giant itself, stretching as if ready to rock ’em sock ’em boxing.
Soon I find myself veering off the path and into the bush. I leave one set of boulders for another, passing a sandy wash. I follow it for a bit towards a set of boulders before deciding to head back in a direction slightly orthogonal to where I’ve parked the car.
As I wander back in this direction I start to see signs again pointing the way of the walking path. Happily I also spot more quiver trees and find myself once again in thrall of their being.
The signs direct me around the site and back towards the car park. I veer off now and again to chase down blocks of boulders, wondering if anyone will be around to see them fall, thankful that none have chosen the moment I was standing beneath them to fall.
Back in town I stop at Spar to refill my 5 liter water jug. A group of children offer to watch my car. I tell them I don’t need it washed, just watched. When I’m back I see one wiping down the running boards. I tip them a few coins and they run off laughing, waving. A woman across the road laughs with them. I wave and she waves back.
The lodge is busy with conference guests. I go for a swim surrounded by orange dragonflies and take a late lunch. Before returning I had stopped by the Cymot to pick up bungee cords with which secure the jerry can I bought in Windhoek. I’ve decided that it behooves me to have some spare fuel just in case. Tomorrow I’ll be headed to Fish River Canyon for the weekend before driving on to Lüderitz on the east coast. After today I can’t wait to see what else awaits. 🇳🇦
16 May 2024
