SOMETHING FISHY ABOUT BUSH TECHNOLOGY

Hobas, 29 November 2001

It was only when we left Koringberg, having said goodbye to Lisa's mother, and turned on to the N7 north towards Springbok and the Namibian border that we felt as though our adventure had begun.
Naturally, we chose a stinking hot day to start things - the temperature in the shade inside the vehicle rose to 46 degrees and we were driving through the heat of the day, pushing on to reach the border at about 8 pm.
After leaving Koringberg we stopped in Piketberg to buy some supplies, including the goods to make a square-to-round pin extension cord for the inverter/laptop cabling. This way we can use it for the satellite radio as well without having to buy another square pin plug. The inverter was, I think, designed for the UK and comes standard with a square pin socket.
From there we hussled over the Piekeniers Pass to refreshing swim in the Olifants River where the road to Algeria and the Cedarberg crosses the river. It was a long push from this wet spot of heaven, which we left at about 12.30 pm, into the hottest part of the day and the longest stretch. We stopped after about 150 km at some desperate little dorp, the name of which my brain understandably refuses to remember but which Lisa says went under the misnomer of Nuwerus, to buy cold drinks and give mutt some water before heading for Springbok and then on to the border.

What's in a name
The northern Cape has some incredibly stark but enticingly beautiful landscapes, if you can cope with the associated heat. From Springbok northwards, the landscape changes quite dramatically and plants give way to arid rock gardens and vistas which take on really beautiful colours and hues as the sun slides down to the horizon.
South of Springbok, from a small town called Kammieskroon northwards, the area is liberally sprinkled with granite hills and domes which make Paarl Rock look insignificant.
That area is also littered with bad placenames: whoever named Spoegrivier could not have had much sense of history or the moment - how else could they have named a town Spit River. Likewise, you'll find a Soebatsfontein and No Heep - I kid you not.
Our original plan (well, not really cos that one involved sleeping over in Springbok!) was to reach Vioolsdrif on the Orange River and find the nearest camp site in which to crash for the night before facing the border crossing in the morning. The nearest site involved a 10 km detour along the river so we scotched that one and crossed into Namibia straight away. We didn't have any problems taking Tigger in although we didn't bother stopping in at customs - have no idea of whether we were supposed to get a stamp or something but we'll no doubt find out when we leave the country in a couple of weeks time.
Getting into the country didn't cost a cent but, in order to use the roads, we had to pay a R70 road tax. The roads have proved to be in really good condition and we travelled most of the way to Hobas, the northern lookout over the Fish River Canyon, at a steady 70 km/h - not bad, considering we average only 10 km/h faster on tar.

Orange with envy
Once through the border we stopped at the first sign that advertised camping, about 2 km down the road and for R20 pp we got a campsite, with no one else around, and access to a bar with cold beer and a television set - just what the doctor ordered after a long day spent concentrating on driving and working out distances and time versus speed and how soon that big truck would overtake us.
When we got up this morning, we were greeted, from our bed on the banks of the Orange River, by the sight of the buttresses of the mountains on the other bank. It's a really spectacular site: high, rugged and almost sheer cliffs on one side of the river and sandy desert plain on the other.
After another "cold" shower - the sun warms the storage tank water to about 40 degrees - we filled the truck with diesel and headed up the road, passing plains of yellow sand and tufts of roadside grass with a distinct band of green reaching about halfway up the stems. We turned off about 40 km north of the border towards Ais Ais, at the mouth of the Fish River Canyon, but before we reached the resort, which is closed between September and April because of the heat and the danger of flash floods, we doubled back and took the road to the northern lookout at the other end of the canyon.

Road Taxing
The gravel roads were in brilliant condition, apart from the occasional section where recent rains had washed part of the stream away. Roadbuilders up here have a strange sense of layout, following the contours so closely that at some points my stomach was dropping out from under me as I wondered where damned road had gone as we crested some rises. At other points the road was so steep we had to drop down to second gear in order to get up the hill.
When we turned onto the last bit of road to Hobas, the road condition deteriorated so quickly the truck almost shook itself apart while I was trying to slow down. I'd just got such a shock at seeing another car in front of me, going so slowly it didn't have it's requisite plume of dust trailing behind it, that while I was trying to close my jaw and control the car after the shock, it took a while to register that the road had turned from perfect gravel to haemorrhoid-loosening washboard in the space of about 50 m.
Fortunately it was only for about 2 km until we reached the gates to the Hobas camp where we talked our way in and managed to sweet-talk them into letting Tigger stay too.
There was already one overlander tour truck in the campsite when we arrived and another two followed shortly afterwards, with a final pair rolling in later in the afternoon. I was dreading having so many people around - we did, after all, come out here to get away from the maddening crowds - but we got chatting to one of the operators and picked up some valuable tips as well as having a good afternoon quaffing beer.
The cherry on the top was the offer, and acceptance, of a lift out to the lookout point over the canyon in one of the trucks. I may well have called off the drive if I'd had to drive the 10 km on the horrendously rutted roads that they bounced their lorry over.
We also witnessed a thunder shower in the early afternoon, bringing welcome relief from the heat.

Packing space
We spent part of the afternoon - surprise, surprise - reorganising the back of the truck. We seem to be refining the system fairly quickly and now have quite a large area at the back where there is only a single layer of crates which we need to access on a daily basis. Who knows, we may soon be able to do away with at least one of the crates, which will make organising things a damn sight easier.
We've also taught Tigger to sleep on top of the crates, making a sleeping area with her cushion and blanket near the centre of everything. We've also taught her to sleep under the truck while we go off to shower and swim and do things away from the truck when she can't come with us.
That's about it for tonight - tomorrow, we're going to try once again to get up early and head into the heart of the Namib-Naukluft Park before the heat strikes.