Advertisement
Published: June 11th 2006
Edit Blog Post
Plus Minus Forty Minutes.
Last nights rain had subsided for a moment and the grey clouds hung low waiting for the right moment to dump its contents on us. Fat droplets started to splash on us when one of the staff members raced down the slope chattering excitedly
and waving his hands towards the clouds. He nimbly dashed across the lawn and disappeared between the trees. “He’s saying the clouds are going this way. He’s excited because its going to rain!” Derick translated. It is not uncommon for the Namibians not to experience this kind of rain for over twenty years. So you can excuse a little African hand flailing madness. My mind tells me this is incredibly rare but having nothing to compare it to, I can only watch this man’s excitement as an expression of how unique this moment truly was.
Hendrik’s attempts to drink away the pain failed miserably. We dropped our tents, turned the corner and immediately put the tents back up at Fish River Canyon. We had a choice of mud or mud to put our tents on. After moving Nicole’s tent four times, she was finally happy, apart from the fact that my
Need a lift?
'You didn't make it either?' tent wasn’t in snoring distance away. Team America was busy pinning their tent down with as many pegs as possible and stringing up the side flaps to create some shade. You would think they were bedding down for the winter rather than staying for a night.
“If you guys want to walk out to the lookout, leave at about 3.30 - 4. Walk to the first one and then I will pick you up at the second one to watch the sun go down. It should take you about plus minus 40min.” Derick pointed the direction to the lookout.
“How far is it?”
“Hhhmm, 10km. So you guys should be there in plus minus 40min if you walk at a reasonable pace.” he estimated. I did a fuzzy calculation in my head. The average person walks at 4km an hour, so theoretically you could walk that in 40min. But it is very difficult to sustain that speed over the rough ground for 10km. At my fastest, I managed to jog eight km (with hills) in about an hour and a half.
“Are you going to walk?” I shook my head, something didn’t add up but I wasn’t quite sure why.
Fish River Canyon
'Are there any fish in the river?' “We’re going to set off at three and just take it easy if you want to join us.” I declined Nicole’s offer and after lunch, I settled on a bench to watch some local kids swim in the pool and mend Derick’s jeans. Two of the oldest girls could swim or at least tall enough to stand up in the pool. A skinny six year old in bright pink swimmers tentatively climbed down the ladder and inched along the side of the pool before scrambling back out. She did this four or five times before summoning enough bravery to jump in. Panicking that she had jumped too far, she floundered back to the side of the pool gasping for air. Her brothers and sisters just laughed.
“What are you doing?” Nicole pointed to the needles sticking out of my ever so versatile buff wrapped around my wrist, bits of my cargo pants hacked up and Derick’s jeans on my lap. I explained how a license plate managed to shred Derick’s jeans. “Okay and why are you doing it?” she rephrased. I gave an answer that seemed to satisfy her and I continued to watch the kids as she set
off for her walk. Good luck with the walk.
It finally added up. A friend of mine is a marathon runner and to this day is still the third fast Australian female in the half marathon. A half marathon is 20 to 22km and her time is just under an hour. Her running speed on average is 15km an hour. I know, faster than a Chico. So if running a road race she is travelling almost four times as fast and covers twice the distance, there is no way in hell these guys were going to make 10km in forty minute without at least jogging. Especially over the uneven dirt ground. I maybe a geek, but I wouldn’t be a tired geek.
“The kids aren’t making too much noise are they?” I looked up to see a traditionally built African mama poured into a pair of skinny jeans in front of me. Plastic white sunglasses were perched on braided hair and her chest was trying to escape from her tight fitting pink top. She was definitely the mother. One of the girls was having the same great escape problem with her swimmers. I shook my head. The
Me at Fish River Canyon
I made it in plus minus forty minutes... kids were fine, sort of. The older kids had started piggy backing the small kids across the pool, only except they were doing a terrible job. Every forth step they would bob down too far and the kid on the back would cop a mouth full of water. One of the boys stayed under for a good couple of steps and was still spluttering water out in between tears. “What are you doing?” she kindly asked pointing to the jeans. What did it look like to people? “He must be a good man for you to do that. We women have to look after them, don’t we?” I nodded weakly and she left me. I tied off the last locking stitch and threw them into my tent. It was four, so it was time to make sure Hendrik could actually get up and into the truck to pick up the others.
*
After driving for a few minutes, three Norwegian specks came into view.
“Is that the boys?” Derick nodded. We neared and saw them standing there with thumbs out.
“Plus minus forty minutes?!”
“It takes me forty minutes.” Good argument there. A few hundred metres ahead Nicole, Albert and Anouk stood on the side of the road with their thumbs out as well.
“Plus minus forty minutes?!” We drove for another 10minutes before passing the first lookout.
“Plus minus forty minutes? You expected us to walk that in forty minutes?!”
“There was a sign that said it was 10km when we came to the camp. I was just seeing how observant you guys are,” making it clear that they weren’t paying much attention to him or the surroundings. I would have been sympathetic that they had trusted their guide but firstly I had warned them form the beginning that Derick is going to play tricks and secondly, it was too funny.
Fish River Canyon is one of the largest canyons in the world and from the lookout you felt like you were on another planet. Standing on the lip of the outer canyon we could see the edging of the inner canyon. Derick gave us a detailed chat Fish River Canyon as we tried to find the best position to fit the entire canyon in a 4 by 8 picture.
“Are there any fish in Fish River Canyon?”
“Yes,” he answered in a dead pan voice.
“But the Orange River isn’t Orange!” trying to defend his rather obvious question. Being so far up, the river looked miniscule and incapable of harbouring much. The River had formed this canyon for millions of years and the Namib region is one of the oldest land formations in the world. Plate tectonics have subtly created the canyon within a canyon pattern. Hikes down into the canyon have been banned for a few years now due to the unprecedented amount of deaths of even experienced trekkers. Loose rocks underfoot, it is easy enough to slip and fall. It is not a question of being lost, the ground is simply dangerous. Albert seemed disappointed that a walk wasn’t possible. At least not today, booking in advance with a local guide a minimum five day hike is possible. The clouds were almost on top of us. It formed a light mist and the Fish River Canyon had an eerie quality to it. It added to the vastness of the canyon and with it covering the horizon, in my imagination it could stretch to the end of the world.
“I’ll meet you guys at the first lookout, just followed that path.”
“How long will it take?” Derick looked at us, looked at the path and looked at us again and shrugged, “Eh, plus minus forty minutes.”
Advertisement
Tot: 0.226s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 11; qc: 97; dbt: 0.1331s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.4mb