Advertisement
Published: January 4th 2009
Edit Blog Post
Sunrise over Boskop Dam
Who would believe this to be a desert country! It is though, and despite the view here, remains critically short of water. After a brief sojourn in the UK, I returned to a Namibia far different than the one I’d left scant weeks before. The mild winter sun was gone and temperatures had risen into the mid thirties. Stepping from the shade to the sun now resembled a close approach to a blast furnace or blazing bonfire. It is no wonder nearby Zambia refers to October as “Suicide Month”!
There isn’t really an equivalent to the season of spring here, nor is summer quite what a European would expect. As winter draws to a close, the temperatures get steadily hotter and hotter, and then, abruptly, the rains come.
For weeks on end, (joyous weeks for anyone in a desert country like this), we had intense rain storms virtually every afternoon or evening. The mornings dawned hot, the afternoons brought refreshing cool (maybe down into the upper twenties/low thirties) and torrential rains. A neighbouring farm had 95mm in one afternoon, which was enough to burst dams and wash away roads.
Many an evening was spent at the “Hot Spot” (the staff kitchen), watching spectacular lightning storms over the Waterberg. Every few seconds another jagged flash would illuminate the night, with some
Hotspot rainbow
A perfect double rainbow rises over the Namibian bush. seeming to slice across the entire width of the sky.
All of our roads were transformed into mud - the nearest stretch of tarmac is 44 km to the west - and driving abruptly became far more challenging. On one occasion, driving the 7 km home in a torrential downpour, we slid right off the road despite travelling at little more than 40 kph. On that occasion we clawed our way back and reached home a few minutes later, but others have ended up stuck for hours on end while other vehicles struggled to reach them.
Parts of some roads become deep bogs, while others flood so completely it appears you are driving along a river. In the UK (and elsewhere) people pay large sums of money to drive 4WD vehicles through rivers and up hills - in the wet season we get to do it for free, every single day. It is really hard work though.
We have started an informal ‘book’ on who gets stuck the most. Being stuck is defined as having to call for help - if you get yourself out it doesn’t count. Whoever tops the chart when the rains cease in
Stuck in the mud.
I drove the rescue vehicle on this occasion. It took us over half an hour to extricate the vehicle in the picture. March/April will have to buy everyone else a beer. So far, I’m pleased to say, I haven’t needed to call, although there have been a couple of close calls. I’m hugely impressed with our vehicles, and when in 4-wheel low (very low gear ratio), with the differential engaged (operates wheels independently of each-other), you can extricate yourself from almost anything. One of our most experienced drivers believes that in such a vehicle it’s impossible to get so stuck that you cannot escape. Some people have proved him wrong, but that’s probably at least partly due to driver ability. I listen to everything the old-hands say, and drive with them on every opportunity to see first hand. I’ll let you know when the dry season resumes whether it’s been enough or no.
There are also other changes that are heralded by the change in climate. The land has been transformed from brown to green (aside from the roads that is - which are just a darker brown) and brilliant flowers are bursting into life everywhere you look. Most nights we have a frog chorus at every waterhole that rivals any car alarm in volume, but most noticeable of all are the bugs.
If you have any issues with small flying things, then this is not the time for you to be in Namibia. These days there are insects everywhere and even the best screened windows cannot stop them all. At dawn and dusk, the ground seethes with biting ants - walking down the wrong path can end up with your having hundreds of bites on feet, ankles and legs. As the sun sets, the moths, termites, flies, mosquitoes and numerous other winged beasties swoop towards any light source in sight - you can hear a continuous stream of tiny bodies slamming into your windows at night... until you finally switch the lights off and sleep.
If you ever dare to have a late dinner then expect there to be a great deal of extra protein expiring in your soup, sauce or (especially) your alcohol! Moths seem to love alcohol, red wine in particular, and will climb into glasses or down the neck of bottles before drowning (probably while very happy).
In some places the flies swarm over any moisture, and get into ears, noses, eyes and mouths. You can’t stop them, all you can do is shut-up, try to breathe shallowly and keep moving.
Christmas however brought a lull. I took a week off and travelled down to the Namib dessert with my mother (visiting over the festive period). There was no rain down there, nor was there any back at CCF while I was there and there hasn’t been any since either. Our roads have dried out again and it has become oppressively hot again (although no where near as hot as the 47C I faced in the Namib!). The insects haven’t departed though and it’s still very necessary to check wherever you put your feet to avoid crunching something large (and usually black) underfoot.
Last night however, the clouds started to form again and we are all hoping that means more rains. Time will tell, but this country needs a lot more water if it is to survive the long winter.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.086s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 7; qc: 44; dbt: 0.0594s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
Donna Erickson
non-member comment
Thanks for the great photos and weather report!
Just read your bolg...found it by accident...At the end I realized you were at CCF. I'm certainly glad I coming there in May and not Oct. I guess I lucked out, not having to wade through mud and deal with all those little biting critters. I'll look forward to you other accounts and great photos.