Hammerstein Lodge Sesriem
PO Box 250, Maltahohe, Southern Region Sesriem, Namibia
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Namib Desert, by Roman
... for sand boarding champs such as my terrible wipe out with Tristan and the frantic Fabyan: the sand eater.
'I swear, I just snorted a litre of sand!’ Tristan extricates himself as well as his board (a plain 1x0.4 sheet of masonite smoothed with cobra wax), as I attempt to blow the inhaled dune from my nose.
'That was nuts…’ One of those experiences I half try to forget half way in as ...
Sand...and lots of it!
Early morning today! We got up around 4:30 to start getting ready for our trip out to Dune 45 (called this because it is 45 kilometres away from the gates of our campsite) for sunrise. It is unbelievable how cold it is the morning here. We needed to line up at the gates in order to race out to this dune so that we could hike it. By the time we got to the dune, it was still dark so we weren't really able to see how steep the dune was. Trying ...
Fish River Canyon, Namibia to Sesriem, Namibia
I slept a little bit better last night. I didn't use my hat, but those wool socks are a blessing in disguise!
Today we were driving north through Namibia to our campsite in Sesriem and we were in for a very long 10 hour bus ride. Although I napped quite a bit on the bus, there was still a lot to look at outside. I don’t think I have ever been anywhere in the world where the landscape has changed as frequently and as drastically as it did today. ...
A Sea Of Sand
... securing ourselves a spot at the Sesriem campsite inside the park, the following morning we managed to be first in the queue to enter the park. The gates officially opened at 5.30am, but we were let in 5 minutes early. Several overland trucks careered past us, obviously in a race, and we did think that once again by the time we arrived at the dunes the overland crowd would be clambering up them. However, as we approached Dune 45, we realised that the trucks has stopped here. ...
AFRICAN PROBLEMS, A HITCHHIKER'S SOLUTIONS, ...
... AND ... THE DESERT
A roundly muscular, black nurse named Max was the first Namibian driver to give me a ride. I told him "Max" was my grandfather's name, and we spoke easily together.
He said the African whites didn't treat the blacks very well, and I agreed. After that, we didn't agree on much.
Two days earlier, a South African biologist/tour-guide had carried me far into Namibia. ...



