orange through the cloudless sky.
bouncing off the Naukluft mountains way over on the other side of the desert and turning them a neon-bright magenta. Watching it even made our by then flat. shoogled. hand-warmed beers taste good. As we were completely away from any kind of electrical interference. the skies were packed out with stars. and because we were in the Southern Hemisphere. they looked very different to the stars we are used to. It makes you realise how very far you‘ve travelled.
After a night under canvas we were herded. blearily. into the truck at 5am. driven through the desert in the half-light and deposited at the foot of the famously huge Dune 45 to see the sun rise again. More sand to climb. This time we were beginning to work out a rhythm to it all. treading down hard on the densely-packed spine of the ridge. walking in convoy. like a line of grunting ants. The desert appeared slowly. hazily below us. as though someone was switching the lights on. ()ut there. everything seemed to pivot around the sun. in fact. whether we were watching it come up or go down. or protecting ourselves from it. or hiding under it. or stretching out and enjoying it.
At the bottom of the hill. our guides had prepared bacon and eggs to fuel us for our longest trek yet.
Seeing a road sign for the Tropic of Capricorn, right, makes you realise just how far you are from home; the breathtaking landscape is bathed in spectacular sunlight
right into the heart of the desert to find a l()()()-year-old fossilised lake. The landscape changed again as we trekked. scrubby bushes sprouting from nowhere. everyone weighed down with just enough water to last
6km. Suddenly. with a minimum of climbing on our part. we had
reached the top of a massive dune. with an almost sheer drop to the dry river bed. maybe l()()m below. ‘l)own you go!‘ said Lombard.
grinning. Coming down sand dunes
is great. though. somewhere between surfing and skiing. The trick is to plant your legs in at particular angles and then let the sand carry you down. scooshing around your feet. steering from your hips. Someone comments that this must be what walking on water feels like.
Finally. as close to noon as we could stand it. we crested another dune to find the dead lake — Death Vlei — nothing but white chalky residue. stuck through with ancient. fossilised trees (stark black). The ghosts of a lake and trees. It felt like being in an extra—dimensional cave painting — nothing else there but brick—red sand and very blue sky.
only four colours — almost as though the sun has burnt away anything extraneous. Nobody talked; even pulling off your shoes to let the sand out felt crass and vaguely sacrilegious. It‘s very easy to imagine all life starting out from here.
After our exertions. we’re conveyed back to the campsite for a
quiet afternoon and a brief
excursion to a deep canyon etched into the rock. Although the site is basic. it does come with cold showers and. incongruously. a tiny swimming pool. which we spend the early evening basking in. cooling off. Watching the sun come down once more is different again on solid ground — one of those
Callanish Standing Stones are over 4000 years
old and are one of the most important neolithic sites in Europe.
wide. flat African skies with only dehydrated trees on the horizon. We discover that red wine tastes great when drunk from tin mugs. and eat hunks of meat charred on the fire. also known as braai.
The next day. we're more subdued on the long drive back to civilisation. The group has gelled and made the truck our own. sprawled out. swapping magazines and offering sweets around. At one point, we’re raced along the road by a solitary springbok. Coming back to built-up areas and being shuttled to the airport for a flight back to Cape Town doesn’t feel quite right; after even a couple of nights in the desert it’s very difficult to sleep with a roof over your head.
Have a Caledonian MacBraynewave
www.calmac.co.uk
Caledonian MacBrayne and CalMac are trading names of CalMac Ferries Ltd.
10—24 May 2007 THE LIST 97