Home via the Karoo - March 2008

With the end of the Richtersveld weekend behind us, our road home was going to be the long one...

The road to Port Nolloth seemed as straight as an arrow.

The searing heat of the morning seemed to be cooling as a bank of grey clouds spread across the desert.  It looked as though a cold front was approaching from the west.

Port Nolloth is semi-desert, flat, sandy and scrubby.  Apparently the temperature here remains an almost constant 17 degrees Celcius twelve months of the year, with variances in February, when it can be baking hot and again in July when it goes from cool to cold.  August and September are the recommended months to visit as from October to March southerly gale force winds blow, making it rather uncomfortable for visitors to the area.

Clusters of houses face the sea and the small harbour is well protected by a reef of rock. 

The calm waters within the reef are somewhat inviting, but the Benguela Current flowing up the coast is bitterly cold - maximum 16 degrees Celcius.  Rainfall in the area is low - about 45mm a year, this because of the low sea temperature, which resists evaporation causing low precipitation.



We drove through the town and surrounding area.  There is a hardy character about the place and if one had the time to explore every nook and cranny, the memories of past things, tough men and forgotten adventures of this old copper harbour would come to light.

We just happened to be here on the wrong day - a public holiday, so all monumental buildings where shut tight and the town was still sleepy on Easter Monday...

A beautifully maintained Church and Convent stand out in the bleak greyness and attract one's attention... a place of peace and solitude.

We all seek refuge somewhere, somehow, sometime...

The history of the town is such that it developed from being a harbour on the Namaqualand coast for the shipment of copper ore dominated by the Cape Copper, the South African Copper and the Okiep Copper Companies, to a commercial fishing village with three crayfish factories and then, with the discovery of diamonds, the place boomed and affluent people such as Hans Merensky and Ernest Oppenheimer became involved in the mining operations, which caused all types of upheaval amongst diggers and the government and began what became known as the Namaqualand Rebellion.

If ever you are in town, you have to stop off at the little fishshop, Port Fisheries, for fingerlicking, lipsmacking fish and chips - fresh from the sea!  We armed ourselves with our bundle and went down to the beach.  Sitting on rocks we satisfied our hunger with seagulls screaming at us, trying to launch themselves at our treasure, which we shared with them anyway - at the very end.

Once refreshed, well fed and watered, we made our way back to the road we had arrived on and bade a "we'll be back..." farewell to Port Nolloth, leaving behind a sleepy little town steeped with history long gone and rich with mineral wealth... 

Richtersveld - Day 7 - So Long, But Not Goodbye...

Dawn arrived a lot quicker than expected.

I suppose it had something to do with wishing that this part of our journey would never end.  What we had seen of the Richtersveld was nothing but a pin-prick of what the area has to offer.  What is it about the desolated desert?  Why is it so difficult to leave?  Perhaps one day I will have an answer, but for now, let us get on with packing up the tent, boiling the kettle and having our last cuppa on the Orange River before we begin our new adventure.

After we had all pulled ourselves out of our camping area, we lined our vehicles up for the farewell group photo. 

It was with a touch of sadness that we had to say "so long.." to a couple of the people we had spent our time with and one especially I have to mention is Nic Nel,  "Sir Winston" as I fondly named him.  Something about his character is the way I would imagine the great Statesman of all, Sir Winston Churchill.  Perhaps it was the way Nic would take a walkabout with his whisky and have a chat with everyone in the early evening or was it the cloud of smoke from his pipe?  Perhaps it is his knowledge of traversing difficult terrain and he has done a lot of exploring.  Perhaps it's just the way he is. 

His wife Jenny, appeared to be the epitomy of patience and I can actually picture her picking wild flowers and pressing them, keeping record of their journeys in a giant journal ...

After having taken each others photos and hugging and wishing each other well, the convoy took to the dusty track leading away from our little nest. Driving out of the area, we turned towards what looked like a patchy yellow carpet - very difficult to believe that these flowers are weeds and grow in very little soil.

One often sees them along the roadside and they just add such a bright touch to what can sometimes be colourless arid land...

About twenty minutes later we reached the Nababiep Nature Reserve where one will find "Peace of Paradise",

well that is what the sign

says, but by the look of things everything has been allowed to rust in peace and perhaps paradise is just beyond the palm trees... 

I should imagine this must have been quite a spot in its heyday, but I believe it has been closed since about 2005 and there are no funds available to rebuild and restore the facilities that have crumbled to nothing...

And so we travelled on and once again, the vista was forever changing - all nice and green along the river side of the road

And dry and dusty arid land on the other ...

There are huge farms along the riverside and everything seems to grow in abundance.  The soil is almost black and is exceptionally fertile, as is land along rivers...

We pulled up outside a "General Dealer" store, found some Bully Beef from Botswana for future trips, and bought some frozen water ices.  The temperature had soared to 25 degrees and it was only 10:20.   We all gathered our refuse bags and placed them in the bins provided at the shop and continued about two kilometres further where we pulled up alongside the road to pump up our tyres as the road had improved and tar was not too far ahead and after final farewells we each left as and when we were ready to and vanished off into the distance, leaving nothing but dust in our wake...

We hit the tar at about 11:30 / 12:00 and took the turn heading in the direction of Port Nolloth, while everyone else headed toward Springbok...

And so, our adventure home begins...