After a year of planning and waiting, it was a relief to walk down the steps at Windhoek International, pull on a helmet and head for the open road. And what was the first thing on my African odyssey to stop me in my tracks? A red traffic light. Certainly not the African experience I was hoping for. I didn’t know it, but it would be the last set of lights to cross our path until we reached Swakopmund, some 1500km later.

Travelling anywhere by motorcycle is always a journey, never just a means of getting from A to B. To me, the machines inspire freedom and exploration, offering a chance to escape. Although cars and 4WDs can be comfortable and relaxing, I feel their steel and glass confines inhibit passengers from truly connecting with the passing surroundings, a sort of virtual experience rather than the real thing.

In Namibia, I’m guessing that the long distances, road conditions and temperatures will all take their toll on me. My legs will sweat, my wrists will ache, and yes, I’m even sure the stirred-up soils will find happy homes in each and every one of my pores. However, I’m also betting that my exposure to the nation’s cultures, landscapes and wildlife will be extra special.

Our chosen route around Namibia was based on the loose pretext of visiting prehistoric rock art sites. In reality, this was just an excuse to visit otherwise unconnected parts of the nation, a way of justifying the journey to any non-biker who asked “Why?” We all knew the adventure would revolve around events unfolding on the open road.

After 15km the tarmac gave way to a graded gravel, rock and sand track that wound its way through the mountains near Bousa Pass towards the campsite at Ameib Ranch. More akin to riding over marbles, the tyres squirmed and wove through the road’s gravel ruts. Bikers used to solid surfaces may find this rather vague feedback a little unnerving at first. The trick is to relax and plan ahead, riding at a pace you feel comfortable with. Travelling in the early morning or late afternoon makes life less difficult, as the longer shadows make it easier to judge where the deep gravel lies.

The two-hour ride to Karibib clearly illustrated how sparsely populated Namibia is, with only the occasional road sign and telegraph pole reminding me that humans pass this way. Although traffic may be minimal to non-existent, 100 per cent concentration is still a fundamental necessity. The eyes and minds of European motorcyclists need to adjust from the massed threat of cars, lorries and cyclists to wandering livestock and the occasional donkey cart. While vehicles are very rare, their dust trails can linger, creating thick clouds that may temporarily block your view. Thankfully, the lightest of breezes typically clears the air, making these dusty fogs a minor hindrance. The showers of small stones thrown by passing trucks are slightly more disconcerting; however, these incidents are few and far between.


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