fish river canyon |
"Namibia, the last great wilderness in Southern Africa." At least that's what it had said in the travel guide. As I sat at home organising my trip, I had images of sitting around a blazing campfire, the sky filled with a mass of brilliant stars and the sounds of the wild echoing all around the sort of images that epitomise Africa for so many people. I wasn't far wrong either. Two months later, on the first night of a trip down the Fish River Canyon, I lay, stretched out on my sleeping bag, gazing up at a vast expanse of some of the brightest stars I've seen, trying to take in the beauty of it all. I'd spent many similar nights doing the same sort of thing back home in England but nothing could compare to this. "The Bushmen of Africa reckon the stars to be hunters in heaven." Our guide, Hendrick said. "If you lie still enough you can hear them moving around in the silence." As we all lay around the flickering fire that night, I could only hear the crackling of burning wood and the occasional bark of a baboon up in the rocks above us. It all seemed so far away from the nightly fight for survival on the Central line back home and yet, right now, I felt more at home here than I had done anywhere else, ever. |
The Fish River Canyon, unknown to most, is second only in size to the Grand Canyon. It borders the Namib and Southern regions of Namibia in South West Africa and, as well as being older than its counterpart in America, is reputedly one of the greatest natural landmarks of southern Africa. As part of a three month trip to South Africa, I had joined an eight day expedition into Namibia with an adventure tour company called Drifters. Our aim, quite simply, was to trek the 90km from one end of the Canyon to the other (It's actually over 160km long but only around 90km are actually walkable). It had already taken us 2 days to reach the Canyon from Johannesburg a long, monotonous drive. But we had camped at Hobas, the base camp at the top of the Canyon, ready to go down the following morning. The view from the edge of the Canyon as the sun came down that night was probably the most vivid memory of my whole trip to Southern Africa. Magical doesn't even begin to describe it. This was Namibia, Africa, in all its glory vastly huge and barren yet a place of unbelievable and unparalleled beauty. |
As we prepared the meal on an open fire looking out over the top of the Canyon, Hendrik had gathered us around. "This is not a place for mass tourism." He said. "You come here for the remoteness, the tranquillity, the ruggedness, the challenge. You don't see families bringing their kids down here in flip flops. The next few days will be tough, no question and the only to succeed is to have the right attitude. If you know you can do it, then you will have no problem. And you will enjoy it. If you start having doubts however, that's when things get on top of you and you will struggle." "I'm not just down here for my own satisfaction this is not a place to get stuck in if you don't know the right things to do. Follow what I say and I guarantee, you'll have an experience that you will remember for life." His words, although serious, made me feel even more exhilarated and as I fell asleep, looking up at those stars that night, I couldn't help feeling that this experience would change my outlook on life. |
The next morning, we all woke early in the chilly air. The fire, an exhausted pile of white ash, sent whispy trails of faint smoke up into the pink morning light We had set off at first light and headed down the steep path to the bottom of the Canyon and then on into the Canyon itself, following the course of the river bed. We managed only about 8km that day before finding a spot to camp down for the night. It had taken us a while to get used to the ever-changing terrain and the intensity of the sun. The stop for lunch had been a long one as we had come across part of the river and the ice cool water was bliss on our already aching feet. Now we were spending our first night in the Canyon, almost 550 metres down, having exhausted ourselves already. We had set up camp on a large sandbank and we were lying their now, wondering how we were going to last 4 more days of this. |
The walking is long and hard. Each day we'd start at first light and walk until the sun went sown around 6.00pm, with a couple of hours break around midday. By mid-morning, the sun is already so intense that the sweat pours off your body. The heat was something I hadn't been prepared for. A decent hat is the only shield but it still doesn't stop you from sweating. The terrain was tough going as well: either long stretches of soft, desert sand or rocks and boulders that battered the soles of your feet constantly. By the end of each day, your feet throb with pain and legs feel like jelly but the feeling is good! We had only brought down enough food, clothes and plasters to last us the trip but our ruc-sacs were already starting to feel as though they were full of rocks. All the water you need is right there on the river bed and, although it appears in patches like huge, drying out puddles after a rainstorm, Hendrik assured us it was perfectly drinkable. In fact, it tastes a hell of a lot better than the stuff that comes out of the taps back home. We certainly drank enough of it, stopping every time we came across some to refill our water bottles and replenish some of the fluid that'd been pouring out of our bodies. Usually, as we found a spot to camp down for the night, the sun was setting and the coolness of the early evening, in contrast to the searing heat during the day, was deeply soothing. The deep golden ball of fire hung in the sky and settles on the roof of the Canyon like an orange on a table-ledge, casting deep shadows down the Canyon walls. As we sat there, our aching feet buried in the cooling sand, we watched as it slowly, miraculously transformed into a different, less hostile land and as the sun sank slowly on one side , the bright, blue ball of the moon rose up on the other. We could have been on another planet. to be continued......... |
