We are on the edge of the Namib/ Naukluft National Park. Just a huge expanse of sand, where an amazing amount of wildlife manages to exist.
The Sossusvlei is an area of extraordinary beauty – red dunes blown in strange shapes by the constant wind.
Our guides had explained the difficulty of climbing the famous dune 45 and the access to it, a 4km walk in sandy harsh conditions. Normally a 4km.walk would not phase me but there were 4WD vehicles available to cover this stretch, such is the difficulty of the trek.
I felt I would enjoy being in Desert Lodge,a unique place for the day, rather than slogging up a sand dune. Although it was bordered by the desert, it had a swimming pool and a large bar with tables you could sit at to take advantage of the wifi. I spent a happy day observing the animals coming and going to the waterholes. Our accommodation was top class. It was newly-built chalets with verandahs facing the desert. The front part of the chalets had two beds, then a wall behind with openings on both sides, with access to the bathroom, toilet and clothes hanging space.
My room mate, enjoying the peace of our environment. Oryx at the water holeSculpture of the Quiver TreeCamel Thorn Tree with close up of massive seed pods. These allow the seed pods to survive in drought conditions, until the rain causes the casing around it to disintegrate, thus having a good chance of survival.
Eventually, the group returned. They were all exhausted and at least one of the group was ill from the heat. No one climbed dune 45.
We were here from the end of October to mid November, which is moving towards high summer. The temperature reaches 50′ C in December and the rain starts to fall. We were witnessing Southern Africa at the end of a very dry spell. As we moved up towards Zimbabwe, we saw the first of the rains starting, but that was not for another two weeks.
Our guides cooked us a delicious dinner. Next morning, I took a walk up the avenue- about a mile- so that I could loosen out my calf muscles which had begun to tighten up with all the sitting on the bus.
I had a great view of some buffalo that had come to drink at the waterholes. amazing powers of survival. I felt myself amazed at how living things adapted to nature. Coming from a country where we have almost continuous rain, this seemed like a miracle to me. We were to spend another week in this extraordinary Country of Namibia, travelling next to the coast and the vast expanses of beaches that dwarf any coastline in Europe.
It started with a cocktail in the tranquil setting of Domes Miramare, in the heart of South Corfu, where the date palms tower above the bamboos that lead to the sand and the blue sea stretches away allowing us to imagine and dream.
‘A three week tour from Cape Town to Victoria Falls, passing through the Okavango Delta – sounds marvellous’ my friend Jan said
‘ it does ‘ I replied ‘ I’ve only been to Africa once – Kenya- 1985…’
(at that stage I had never heard of the Okavango Delta)
‘Would you be interested – really?’
‘Of course. Lets look more closely at the itinerary’
And that was it. Plans were made, Deposits sent, vaccinations booked. Then disaster. Jan had a fall, leaving everything undecided while she had physiotherapy As the weeks went passed, Jan made steady progress, but not enough to allow her to travel.
So I’m going on my own. In a group of twelve. I’ve packed already. I’m using things directly from my washbag. A real sign of excitement. The only way not to forget things.
It’s a 21 day trip, on a lorry. The safari vehicles used by the company look a lot like lorries. They are custom built to withstand the roads of Africa and have air con, fridges and cooking stove. Large windows to allow you to get a good view. I wonder how they decide who gets to sit by the window. Maybe it’s rotated.
My first leg of the journey is to get to Athens. From there I take a four hour plane ride to Doha, thence to Cape town on a nine hour forty five minute minute leg. Basically, we fly the whole length of Africa. What an enormous continent to say it takes almost half a day to fly over. That’s overnight tonight so I’ll be wearing my eye mask and hoping to get some sleep. It’s fun to think I won’t be driving a car for three weeks.
Our vehicle for the next three weeks.Weaver Bird’s nest
So follow along with me, and let me share my discoveries along the way. I’ll be finding out more about the bird who makes this nest and why and how if it’s not perfect, the female refuses to use it and the male must start again.
Me at 2am in Doha en route to Cape TownView from my room V and A City Lodge at Waterfront Cape Town
Caught up in the hurly burly storm of everyday life, people wonder what’s it like to step into a different reality – where the sun shines and you’re surrounded by water, magnificent greenery and in short Greece. Every year, friends come to visit to recharge their batteries and rekindle friendships.
This blog is dedicated to Dara and Roisin
The two Musketeers, Roisin and Dara, in Paxos
They arrived in August late at night while we ate pizza in Ipsos. Pale and overdressed, they soon relaxed over wine and pizza, as the Dutch waiter also relaxed and took off his shirt behind the counter. It added to the abandonment of the occasion – arrival in the middle of a holiday island, the season in full swing.
By the next day, they had acclimatised and we made plans to take Karolina, my 29 foot sailboat to Paxos for a few days.
We had a wild passage between Corfu and Paxos and we were too tired to get off the boat that night, preferring to stay on board and cook some pasta. Next morning saw us up and about, on the SUP board, swimming and moving the boat into prime party position, at the pier wall. We now had our stern or back of the boat leading directly onto the quay allowing us to get on and off easily. This didn’t prevent our most experienced crew member, Dara, from slipping off the SUP board we had put in between the boat and the quay wall. She was out in a jiffy , unhurt.
Dara’s idea of a fun day is cleaning and fixing things on a boat, so Roisin and I let her at it and did some serious clothes shopping. Roisin’s keen eye revealed to me how I could wear some clothes that had a truly Greek flavour. The town of Lakka was full of model like Italians, who walked around in glamourous whites and light blues, complimenting their tanned skin and incredible features. and that was only the men. Women and children were catwalk level. We just gaped as we ate dinner in the evening warmth.
Back to the boat for a more relaxing sleep. My comrades had spotted that I had a lot of stuff in my cabin at the rear of the boat. They had vowed to clear it out before they alowed me sleep. I was banished to the cockpit as they pulled out the incredible array of stuff – dinghy cover, SUP bag, old solar panels, seat for the dinghy, the list went couldn’t sleep – how did you even get into the cabin with all this around you?
When I eventually regained my cabin, I just laid back and fell into a deep sleep, but not before I had foraged a couple of cushions to make up for the lost stuff and soften the edges of my dreams.
Next morning, we were first at the fournos or bakery for Bougatsa – like mille feuille with loads of creme vanille and spinach pie with Ellinikos coffee.
Our journey home was easier – no big seas like on the journey down – we got to grips with the auto pilot and by the time we were approaching Ipsos, I was settled back on the prime seat at the back of the boat, watching the miles slip by and listening to hits from the 90s and feeling – so this is what its all about. It takes time to get really comfortable with a boat and having Dara with me gave me that extra insight into what my lovely Karolina could do. I have to admit to being challenged by the ownership of a boat and being tempted to sell it. Equally, I believe a boat is meant to challenge you and teach you something. Maybe perseverence and patience is my lesson. Things change and it takes time to learn . I’m so happy I stayed with it.
Our next excitement was an architectural one. Dara’s web of sailing friends had introduced us to a family in Paleokatrisa, who were related to the architect of the Municipal theatre in Corfu which is renowned for its ugliness, being a brutalist concrete heap, replacing an elegant charming edifice that was bombed by the Germans in WW11. Musketeer Roisin is an architect. As we sat in the enchanting Lucciola Gardens, a bottle of red open and delicious mezzes on the table, Dara attempted to subtly warn her not to get into any argy bargy over the Theatre when we visited the family next day. What followed was a stream of intellectualism that left me grabbing the side of the table with laughter. Apparently the architects after the second world war believed they were going to change the world with their vision. The buildings would be bare, but adorned with plants, so we would feel connected with nature. That wasn’t the funny part. It was how she went into raptures about the theatre which apparently, she appreciated as it reflected the walls of the fortress of Corfu, and if we hadn’t dragged her away, she could have explained this to us and that it was as if Corbusier went to South America and came back again and we need to take more notice of what’s around us and not always rush her away.
Still she was on her best behaviour next day and never once mentioned Corbusier or the theatre.
The week flew past, full of conversations and laughter. Three people you would never have put together found common interests and held out opinions and took care of feelings and gently advised for the best in a setting that would scarcely have been possibe had I not moved away from Ireland.
I struggled with my tears as I dropped them at the airport. Nothing compares to dear friends.
AH SURE AZURE 