Highway to Hell for a spell in Heaven - was it worth it?

Leaving Langebaan via Elandsbaai and Lamberts Bay, with the sea fret engulfing the edge of the world yet softening it at the same time, we head north in Andi the Landy.

A quick overnight at Kroon Lodge, a tight place of designated camp spots crammed in, but decent enough with its own sink area in each spot.  But with no one else there, we allowed ourselves to spread out and enjoy the facilities for this one nighter.  Before our next overnight stop in search of the promised land, was at Oewerbos, a sightly run down campsite, but next to the Orange River, it’s a great location.  Not quite believing our next country was just across the river, we saw a local boy jump in a canoe and paddle across multiple times - never having the fuss of passport control, let alone visas, carnet, insurance or any such thing we do when travelling around Africa in the landrover.

Driving through some pretty baron areas; baron but stunning as you can but appreciate the many years of its evolution. The myriad of colours range from burnt orange to bland pale grey or beige shades to vibrant reds and purples.  Despite the plain bland colours prevailing, this didn’t detract from the sheer enormity and vastness of the land we were driving through.

Fairly good tarmac roads, some having had mini subsidence issues, as the road crumbles into oblivion, then just as quickly the road turns into a dirt road.

Sometimes you take advice on where to go, knowing its good advise, and knowing its the best place for you too.  On route we did take advise and with renewed vigour and a goal to reach the promised land; to camp in the Richtersveld by the Orange River - that was our only goal as we travelled along the Cape Namibia highway.

But having that goal also tested Andi the Landy to the extreme, something we didn’t expect!  

Tall mountains carved into like a pumpkin at Halloween, with its sides being blown away to make the road.  High sided canyons overhanging the deeply rutted road, a road that probably hasn’t seen the grader for a long time, or at least not since the last wet season.

The Orange River lush in comparison, weaves a green serpent through the baron lands, evergreen and plentiful for the first couples of meters either side before the deserted mountainous terrain takes over, stark in comparison.

For the most part, there wasn’t a lot more than rocks and mountains.  Sure enough at the right time of the year, the flowers are apparently spectacular but in this desolate landscape, you sometimes can’t see that, save the odd flower bucking the trend as it falters in its out of season presence, bowing its head in the ever so slight wind, looking around frantically for its flowering buddies and finding very few, before loneliness takes over and it shrivels back to the ground with a vow to appear at the right time next time.

Dead cars carcasses litter the highway, as if dropped from outer space and left to rot, yet they don’t rot away as they might elsewhere, they are somewhat preserved and easily identifiable.  They are just left to die, leaving a slightly rusty skeleton recognisable in its shape and with its own story to tell, a story that ends in neglect.

Small pyres of brick mark the graves of derelict houses of a bygone year, just crumbling away and being swallow up into the landscape.  This brutal landscape claims many a victim, and you can only but image the scorpions coming out and crawling over the man made obstructions in a sci-fi horror movie.

Turning around another gravely road the luna landscape is replaced by a more surreal scene - cairn stones, thousands of them as far as the eye can see.  Not high or ugly, just little piles of neatly stacked stones.  A moving moment, it felt like an ancient burial site and as such a bit creepy, but so impressive, piled in their thousands as far as the eye could see, almost indistinguishable against the background of the same colour.

All the time Andi shuddering along the increasingly stone clad and bumpy roads, bouncing left and right, crossing old water courses where rivers once flowed, and still we carried on the highway to hell in search of our slice of heaven.

Up and down hillocks , wondering if the next crest might produce something vaguely familiar to us; a human presence, an act of hope to break from this torturous road..  the sand colour road sweeping away as we cross over the precipice into an even more baron remarkable luna landscape.

A lone windmill, shining bight, but brittle in appearance as if made from a meccano set, seeking the water deep down.  More promises of flowers and more cars break up the monotony of this impressive natural landscape.

Then it opens up, the mountains disappear as the sand road melts into the dessert beyond, with only a small rise of sand acting as kerb sides, to guide the way for the road ahead.

Arriving at Sendelingsdrift, our chosen crossing to Namibia by ferry.  Small buildings with stones neatly stacked to mark the road.  Why not, they have petty of stone! Looking very much like a ghost town, we were surprised to see a small shop and people milling around.  Like discovering human life after years of isolation, we were relieved that one, we were on the right road and two, we had reached our chosen crossing point to Namibia.

All hopes shattered as we were told the Orange River is too high, we can’t cross there, but we could have a couple of nights at the promised land of water edged camping in peace and harmony - cue the music…  We plod on racing an Ostrich along the way who seemed incapable of turning right away from us, instead determined to race and it seemed have some fun he kept pace, and even overtook as we raced along, and he was quick.  At this point I must say, the road was pretty good.  Once ‘Ollie' the super fast Ostrich had finally been beaten (well he wasn’t really, he took a turn right to move away from us!) the landscape closed in again and we were met with mountains to climb more rivers to cross, bot dry and wet river crossings.

Then things start to get a bit hairy, the mountains were one thing, but being scattered with boulders larger than the front fender of Andi, it was a torturous, white knuckle ride.  Things started to scatter around the back of Andi, usually secured down, clothes, plates and a vast array of ‘essential’ things rattled free and came crashing down to the floor, Chairs, table and anything big was turned around and landed where they did, a huge pop from the car and still we carried on - we had to, heaven was waiting for us at the end of the road from hell - heaven can only be around the next corner. 

Then we were met with our ultimate test.  With adrenaline pumping we make our way up Domrog Pass and down Akkedis Pass.  A sign post for the hand of God rock formation did little to make us feel at ease!  With Andi’s nose pointing skyward, and with no sign of the road ahead or of land or rocks or anything other than blue skies we stare into oblivion waiting for the turning point, the precipice to tip us over the other side, and to see land once again.  It seemed to take forever to reach terra firmer but we did eventually pop over the other side, as things continued to shake in the back like a child’s rattle.

Andi seemingly nodding in acquiescence as we trundled along the rough roads, when we knew he was hurting inside, hurting real bad, we just didn’t know to what extent until later!

Over more rocks made for mountain climbing, not driving.  Huge individual boulders or multiple smaller ones stacked so high, one side of Andi was precariously balanced and teetering on the edge.  Mindful of the weight on the roof tent etc on top, it did feel as though we might fall over as we grip onto the inside bars, white knuckling as we did so.  But we did survive and we did arrive into heaven, De Hoop campsite.

Alone, dusty and exhausted we set about making camp, easy up Bush company tent, awning out and a gin and tonic poured.  Even a shower in ‘cold’ water which wasn’t the cleanest water of some places, but just as refreshing, we talked at great length about ‘that road’ as we settled down to make dinner and go to bed as the sun sets ever so quickly.

Next morning and the thought of the road ahead pending, we looked around Andi to see
what that loud pop was, and discovered the top of the shock of the absorber had broken off at the rear.  Whether that was the loud pop or not remains to be seen, it could have just have been a saucepan crashing down as we were shaken like salt and pepper on that road, but it did make us take 5 and assess any damage.  Now our broken landrover had a limp, something we needed to get repaired.

So whilst, Do Hoop, is a heavenly place to relax and while away that hectic drive on the banks of the Orange River, we decided that as we needed to cross into Namibia, and the ferry might still be closed, we left a day early to tackle that road slowly and with a little more knowledge - with a slightly broken landrover.  Plan B in force, we limped west for the picturesque Alexander Bridge to cross into Namibia.  Arriving quite late and no accommodation booked, we entered a location we didn’t plan to go to,
Oranjemund, Namibia.

Things we have learned :

1. Listen to people, but bear in mind their enthusiasm might not match yours
2. Make sure your vehicle is capable of the drive
3. Make sure your driver is confident enough to tackle that drive
4. Do your research before, not after!
5. Question yourself, by reaching Heaven, do you really need to go through Hell?
6. Research Landrover garages.
7. Know your vehicle
8. Have at least a little mechanical knowledge to mitigate damage or in our cause any further damage
9. Carry spare parts - as many as you can!
10. Do more research!

Next stop, Namibia.. and all that sand…plus...

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