On a wing and a prayer

Buy...

When the opportunity arose for Matt Phillips to join the Schoemans for a flight-based safari along the Skeleton Coast, he thought his prayers had truly been answered. So, with his exceedingly enormous expectations in tow, he took to the skies of Namibia. Would the famed family live up to their reputation and show him a side of Namibia that he’d always dreamed of? No – they did even better. "This take off will be a bit bumpy,” said André, in a deadpan tone over the crackly headset, “but it will be one of those bumps that gets us airborne.” With the wind whirling around the cabin, I looked out of the open window to see the seashell-strewn strip of undulating sand that was to be our runway. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Soon the engine was roaring and ground beneath was rumbling by in a blur. Bump. “I told you so.” I couldn’t help but smile. Earlier that morning André had picked me up at the NamibRand, one of southern Africa’s largest private nature reserves. I’d spent the night at Wolwedans Dune Lodge and had woken to see the sun creeping over the rocky horizon. The panorama was immense and – dare I say? – moving. While I should premise this by saying that I’m used to waking up in the long shadows of central London, I have seen my fair share of brilliant sunrises in my travels. What made this extra special was the fact that I was still in bed and warm under the covers – I’d thankfully, though politely, ignored the recommendation of a few other guests and left the walls open while I slept. Yes, a windy night might have blown some sand my way, but there was simply no way that I could even think of shutting out Africa on the very day I arrived. During my late afternoon guided drive from Dunes Lodge, we ventured south over the undulating red dunes, past some grazing oryx and down into a sweeping valley dotted with fairy circles. These mysterious bare circles in the sand, which stretch along the edge of the Namib Desert from South Africa’s Northern Cape to southern Angola, support little if any flora and stand out strikingly on the grassy plains. There are plenty of theories as to their origins, but scientists continue to scratch their heads – this is one secret Mother Nature still holds on to. Equally captivating is the sheer sense of space one feels in the NamibRand – at 2100 square kilometres, it seems endless. The few lodges present here have agreed to limit their size to ensure that there will always be at least one million square metres of wilderness for each and every guest. We continued across the valley, skirting around some impressive inselbergs rising from its southwestern flank, and spotting bat-eared fox, klipspringer and some massive sociable weaver nests. Forty-five kilometres south of Dunes Camp, we found Wolwedans’ newest camp, Boulders, dramatically set next to an impressive outcrop of pegmatitic granite. Undoubtedly the most exclusive of set-ups, it can host a maximum of eight guests in four spacious tents. Each of these, along with the dining and lounge tent, the breakfast deck and an open fireplace, are spread along the bottom of the towering rocks and offer sublime views out over the reserve. Guests here can enjoy scenic guided drives or walking safaris across the ancient Bushman hunting grounds. On our sunset drive back to Dunes Camp my guide spoke of the reserve’s founding, starting with Albi Brückner’s purchase of this desert landscape in the mid 1980s and finishing with his son Stephan’s tireless efforts almost a decade later. Their goal was to help conserve the southwestern Namib Desert’s unique environment and wildlife by protecting critically important seasonal migration routes that ensure biodiversity in the region. When the Cessna landed to pick me up the next morning, I was to be joining another son following in his father’s footsteps. André’s dad, Louw Schoemann, was a lawyer who became a pioneer of eco-tourism in the early 1970s, decades before it became in vogue. His passion for the Skeleton Coast was overwhelming and he was the leading force behind it being proclaimed a national park in 1971. His new company, Skeleton Coast Safaris, bid for and won the only concession to operate tourist activities in the specially designated ‘wilderness area’ in the park’s north. His company’s minimum-impact approach meant that they built no permanent structures and took out any waste their operations produced. Guests would also have to be flown in by light aircraft, a rule imposed by the government to further reduce the impact of tourists in this, the most pristine section of the park. Although the logistics behind Louw’s remote operation were complex, and the scale of his business limited, he succeeded in making it one of the most heralded – and sought after – safari experiences on the continent. His four sons – Bertus, André, Leon and Henk – all pilots as well, learned from their father and became successful guides in the family business. The world fell out from beneath Louw in 1992 when the government’s tender board mysteriously awarded his concession to Olmypia Reisen, a German company with considerable political connections in the country. An appeal was launched by Skeleton Coast Safaris, as Olympia Reisen had failed in its application to show that it had “an extensive knowledge of the ecology of the Namib Desert, especially of the concession area, and the history of the Skeleton Coast Park, as well as a good knowledge of the adjoining inland areas and of its indigenous peoples” – something that was clearly required in the tender. Unfortunately, the stressful situation was too much for Louw and he died on 5 July 1993 before the case was heard. His family pushed on, and with the full support of the Ministry of Wildlife, Conservation and Tourism, the Windhoek High Court overturned the tender board’s decision. However, the Namibian cabinet controversially handed the concession straight back to Olympia Reisen for an unprecedented 10 years. Soon after, Skeleton Coast Safaris was also refused two other concessions in the park. The German company’s lack of expertise showed from the outset and they failed to make any success of the concession, letting it flounder for six years. Instead of intervening and putting the concession back up for tender as expected, the government contentiously allowed Olympia Reisen to transfer it to Wilderness Safaris in 1999. Once again, Skeleton Coast Safaris was denied a fair chance at their original concession. To subscribe or buy back issues, click here  However, the Schoemann family’s passion for the Skeleton Coast never let them roll over. They modified their operations by looking further afield, visiting captivating areas just south of the wilderness area in the national park and sections of Damaraland and the Kaokoveld inland. I’d heard from several sources that their resulting safaris were equally good, if not better than the legendary originals. So it was with utter excitement and anticipation that I greeted André at the Wolwedans airstrip. After warm introductions and a cool beverage, I climbed into the Cessna with Lee and his son David, my companions for the next five days. Soon the fairy circles were growing smaller and the horizon was getting bigger – it wasn’t long before Sossusvlei was staring me in the face. With my hand on the window and my mouth open wide, we circled several mountains of sand before I noticed our landing gear was down. As excited as I was confused – could we really be? – André dropped the plane into the depths of the dunes, before setting it down on a dry lakebed. As we walked towards one of the dunes, André pointed out some mafic stones that had been carried here by Bushmen in the past. He explained how the worn shapes were the result of grinding materials over long periods. Feeling somewhat inspired by the thoughts of people surviving in such hostile environments I decided to try and bag the summit of the dune towering over our plane. By the halfway point I’d slowed considerably and had to take off my shoes to remove the sand – they seemed to be getting a size smaller with each successive step. With André, Lee and David looking like grains of black sand on the red ridge below I pushed on. Just as I approached what I thought was my original goal – I’d actually climbed well above the peak visible from the parked plane – it became apparent that there was another loftier summit further up the ridge. Though the wind was taking the edge off the 40 degrees Celsius heat, I was knackered. I was also convinced that the only reward I would receive by climbing the next peak would be spotting another successively higher summit. I was going nowhere but down. And that is always the fun part. The next leg of our journey took us straight to the coast, where we hugged the shoreline only a few hundred feet above the crashing waves. It wasn’t long before we spotted our first shipwreck, the 310 ft Eduard Bohlen. Amazingly, this huge ship now sits hundreds of metres inland, surrounded by a sea of sand. André also pointed out some other relics, like the early diamond and guano operations in Moeb Bay. It was there that we circled and set down along the beach to explore in more detail. Besides the powdered, rusty remnants of some rail lines and equipment, there were two intriguing, almost petrified, wooden-spoked trucks and two late 19th-century surfboats from West Africa (brought here for the guano operations). The shore was also strewn with copious skeletal remains from numerous species, ranging from humpback whales to black-backed jackals. We learned that animals, such as hyena, survive in these arid conditions by licking dew off the rocks at night. Someone camping in this area once woke to hear a hyena licking the moisture off his tent. Now there is a thought to keep you awake at night. After refuelling in Swakopmund, and me searching in vain for a photo of myself on the walls of the local skydiving club, we continued north up the coast. As we flirted with the desert coastline – receiving an eyeful, I might add – I asked André about the noise the dunes make in this area when walked on. I’d experienced it here on a previous visit, and all I could liken the rumble to was World War II bombers. He chuckled, gave me a brief explanation about the sand’s large, even grain size and told me that I’d enjoy Terrace Bay the following day. As we moved inland we crossed over smooth pinkish sands that were interrupted only by occasional black igneous dykes, poking through the surface like bony spines, and isolated vestiges of equipment from abandoned diamond operations. The dunes eventually gave way to the Ugab formations comprised of the striking Damara Sequence, a stratigraphic column dating back almost a billion years. Its mica and graphitic schists and quartzite beds laid concertinaed below us, evidence of the inconceivable pressures exerted on these rocks millions of years ago. After our enjoyable airborne geology lesson, André brought the plane down into one of the narrow gullies, from where we set out on foot to explore the flora of this folded phenomenon. First were the ‘window plants’: algae that grow beneath quartz pebbles, obtaining light through the translucent mineral and necessary moisture from dew seeping below. Next was the flowering Hoodia macrantha, a cactus-looking plant that was used as a diet suppressant by nomads in the region. The commiphoras had a unique use for the Himba as well; its aromatic resins were used to mask their natural odours. Wildlife in this incredibly arid environment also make use of the few plants to be found. The succulent dollar bush, or Zygophyllum stapfii, contains enough moisture in its leaves to quench the thirst of animals in the area, like oryx and mountain zebra. Reportedly, they also hold enough fluids to fill a 4WD’s radiator in times of emergency! One plant that truly caught my eye was the alien-looking Welwitschia mirabilis – known as a living fossil. Some are believed to be 3000 years old. We also learned how some vegetation emits gases while being eaten that increase the tannin in adjacent leaves, making them less palatable. This defensive trait forces animals to move on before they’ve destroyed the entire plant. I couldn’t tell what I was more surprised about: the ingenuity of nature or my captivation by the subject. André had me spellbound. He continued his magic act that evening when he pulled out the telescope at Kuidas Camp in the Huab River Valley. I’d fallen for Namibia’s night sky years ago, but this was insane. We all lost ourselves in the heavens, whether it was the young open cluster of Trapezium within the Orion Nebula, the two Magellanic Clouds, globular glusters or Betelgeuse, the mighty red supergiant star. While the whirring telescope automatically gyrated to our next galaxy, André fed our heads with fascinating facts. It was quite simply the most amazing experience I’d ever had looking up. We spent the next morning hiking with our eyes down, observing ancient bushmen rock carvings and more fauna unique to the region. We heard of windblown grass seeds that actually screw themselves into the ground when moistened by the morning mists. Hard to believe, that is until André licked one and it started rotating in his hand. Amazing. The rest of the morning was spent on a drive through the red and purple rock formations of the Karoo Sequence. With the morning fog hopefully lifted from the coast, we took to the skies again. After observing some frolicking seals and plenty of stupendous surf, we landed at Terrace Bay. As André readied one of the two Land Rovers Skeleton Coast Safaris has stationed there, we took to the beach and skipped stones in the chilly Atlantic. Soon David and Lee were settled on the rooftop seat and I was riding shotgun as we ventured up into the towering sands. The golden dunes stretched for miles and were painted with rhythmic ripples of purple which, upon closer observation later were brilliant garnet grains. After rising from our prone positions with the magnifying glass, we quickly dirtied ourselves again by jointly sliding down a dune. The noise and vibrations rising from the sand were overwhelming, much more powerful than I’d experienced in the dunes near Swakopmund previously. Buty they could be louder still. Down the 38 degree slope went the Land Rover, complete with three joyous, albeit white-knuckled, passengers and one smiling driver. A similar reaction was had in another Land Rover the next morning, when being charged by a desert-adapted elephant in the narrow Hoarusib River Valley. While we were very successful in tracking the three pachyderm spoor, we never managed to find the owners of the fresh lion tracks. However, we did see one of their fresh, still-uneaten kills. Himba call this area home too, and were unhappy about losing livestock to the hungry felines. To prevent retaliatory killings of lions, Skeleton Coast Safaris have long worked with the local tribes to reduce the conflict between wildlife and domestic animals. They were one of the first operators in Namibia to support the pioneering Community Game Guard schemes. Most of the next afternoon was spent airborne, staring down at countless Cape fur seals cavorting in the surf and black clouds of anchovies dancing in the shallows. Occasionally, looking much like a cell undergoing mitosis, these schools of fish would neatly split, clearing a path for a large (and in their opinion, hungry) shark. After a short pit stop on the beach for a refreshing swim, we eventually reached the mouth of the Kunene, the river that forms the border between Namibia and Angola. As we circled above the nutrient-rich estuary, we spotted crocodiles basking, pelicans patrolling and turtles swimming in the company of seals and sharks. The two sides of the border looked as if they were on different planets. Elegant dunes and their shapely shadows covered every inch of Namibia, while Angola was truly apocalyptic – seemingly scraped flat and clean, the barren rocky outcrops were pale hues of grey, purple and brown. As we flew up the river valley the sand on the Namibian side gradually rose higher and higher until it formed a flat plateau. Leaving the Kunene behind we flew southeast into the Hartmann Valley and landed on a sandy strip amongst the mountains and dunes. It was beautiful but bleak. I think I summed up all our feelings in one statement: “If we didn’t feel like we were in the middle of nowhere before, we’ve truly arrived.” We loaded our bags and supplies into the lonely Land Rover that had been patiently awaiting company in the world’s largest, and least crowded, airport parking lot. With the sun low in the sky, the temperature had cooled and was perfect for a ride on the roof. However, the number of desiccated oryx corpses we passed in the next hour was a testament to the harsh realities of life in this desert environment. Having passed the short ‘steep descent test’ the other day near Terrace Bay, André figured we could handle the more challenging route to camp: a sandy, 750 ft-descent down a seriously steep gully. We lost what breath we had left when we reached the Kunene Camp a short while later – perched on the river’s edge, it was a sight to behold. After spending our days in the sky and on land, it was fitting that we should take to the water. The next day we cruised up the Kunene River, checking out the wildlife and the dramatic landscapes before stopping for a cheeky rest on a nice Angolan beach. If it weren’t for the crocodiles we’d seen earlier, a swim might well have been in order. Following the river east the following day, we flew over an orange ocean. Black striated ridges cut across it in sections, and between these the sand flowed before cascading down to the river. If one were colour blind and had absolutely no sense of temperature or direction, the scene below could have been mistaken for glaciers flowing down valleys from the ice fields in the arctic. Mountains quickly replaced the grainy desert and dominated our views until we turned south for Etosha. Before landing at our final camp, we skimmed across the mighty white pan and over the forested southern sections of the park, managing four black rhino sightings along the way. Over dinner we met André’s wife, Juanita, and his four children: Kyle, Cindal, Jurieanke and Garlomel. The eldest, Kyle, is now 17 and eager to earn his pilot’s licence. While André would love him to join the family business, he has made him aware of what other attractive opportunities such a licence could afford, such as flying jumbo jets to the four corners of the globe. However, hearing the excitement in Kyle’s voice when he speaks of the bush and his country, I have a strong feeling he will lead the third generation of Schoemans to treat safari goers to the trip of a lifetime along the Skeleton Coast. Matt Phillips travelled with Skeleton Coast Safaris (www.skeletoncoastsafaris.com). With thanks to Wolwedans (www.wolwedans-namibia.com), Nature Wings (www.naturewings.com) and Air Namibia (www.airnamibia.com).

< Previous		Next >