The Go Boys!

It’s Saturday morning and Jo and Olive stand at the ready. Ben is putting the finishing touches on the H2O banner that he’ll wear if we run out of water and need to rely on the kindness of passing vehicles. Then we get a text from Ellie and jump up excitedly. We have been in touch with her ever since we met in Lusaka way back in October. She has been cycling on her own from Kigali and is heading to Cape Town as well. So we decided to brave the rest of Namibia together.

It almost feels like saying goodbye to our parents as we take farewell pictures with Cronje and Mari. They fiddle with our bikes and give us some last words of wisdom, then we’re off. We leave the city behind (hopefully for the last time on this trip) and head into the hills. Pretty soon we also leave our friend the tarmac behind (we won’t see it again for a while) and pedal warily onto the gravel. The first day goes by quite quickly as we find our rhythm and decide on a team name: The Go Boys! (all rights reserved by Lina’s nephew).

The next day we ride the 50 Shades of Gravel. We’ve got everything from nice and smooth to rocky, corrugated and sandy. By the time we reach a farm where we can supposedly fill up our water we are quite exhausted. The group decides that Lina has the most (sym-)pathetic face and she takes the empty bottles past the gate that encouragingly reads “PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT.” A couple of minutes later Ben and Ellie hear the dogs bark and begin preparing Lina’s eulogy.

But alas, the dogs are old and sweet-hearted and so is the couple that lives on the farm. Clyde and Marina invite us in for a cheese toastie and tell us all about their birding and amateur astronomy. By the time we pull ourselves away from stories about storms on Jupiter and last year’s “infestation” of rosy-faced lovebirds it’s 5pm. We cycle on for a little bit and find a semi-hidden spot by the side of the road to wild camp. We pitch our tents in a hurry as rain clouds are closing in on two sides.

Just as Lina is about to take a wet wipe shower a car pulls up. Out jump Joachim, Adele and Vera who have been looking for us. They live on a farm a little down the road and are generously offering us a bed for the night. Though our nests are nicely made and we are pretty tired already we now take them down, throw the panniers into the bed of the truck and push on for the last 12km. The evening light on the plateau is spectacular. At 7pm we finally rock up to Isabis farm where we are treated to a delicious dinner and have a good nights snooze in our own little cottage.

The train of incredibly friendly people chugs on the next day. It feels a little like being back in Zimbabwe where everyone knows someone who can help us in some way. On our way up to an unpronounceable pass we stop at a couple of farm stalls to get treats. Ellie buys Uno and we play the first of many rounds. It’s late afternoon again by the time we reach the top of Spreetshoogte pass. Still panting from the last 14% incline we look out over the desert that unfolds 800m below us. The air simmers like a pot of boiling water.

The cycle down one of the steepest passes in Namibia is accompanied by a lot of adrenaline and the smell of melting rubber. Our breaks just barely manage the descent. Then we enter the baking heat and eventually the main tourist road. The passing cars often treat us like another attraction on their trip. Without much preamble they ask if they can take a photo (or not) and head back into the safety of the aircon. In return, whenever there is a swimming pool at a campsite, we let out the inner hippo by honking at anyone who dares to enter our turf.

Eventually we make our way to one of the biggest tourist spots in Namibia: Sossusvlei. We have to get up very early to be at the park gate before sunrise. A long line of cars is already waiting. Bicycles are not allowed in the national park, so we rely on the ranger to help us find a lift. Even though he does a terrible job of pleading our case we eventually find a ride. The desert feels mystical in the morning light. The reddish sand in the air gives everything a rosy tinge.

We hike up Big Daddy – at 350m high it doesn’t even make it into the top 10 of highest sand dunes in the world. Yet we’re still overtaken by beetles on their way up to find some dew to drink. It feels good to stretch our legs again and to have a break from cycling. At the top we take a breather, some well earned photos and our shoes off. The sand feels nice and cool. On our way down our giant shadows create little sand avalanches that swallow some unfortunate beetles but at least those are the only casualties to report.

At the bottom of Big Daddy we enter Deadvlei, a valley of trees that died in a drought about 900 years ago and didn’t even have time to decompose. Alongside other tourists we now wander through their graveyard. If the Chinese ladies taking a million pictures or the 20 year old shirtless dudes weren’t there, it would count as an otherworldly landscape. Lina makes sure that she is caught touching a tree on photo before we make it to the sign saying “Don’t touch the trees!” We then start the hike back to the car park and hitch a ride out of the dunes and flub into yet another campsite pool.