Day 4 of our journey, another early morning saw us on our way to Sossusvlei, a clay pan in the Namib desert, surrounded by some of the world's largest sand dunes. We arrived at our camp site mid-day and took the day to relax by the pool and make use of the scalding-hot water in the showers. That day I had purchased a large supply of Tassenberg (cheap red wine) and Coke in order to make punyapunya- a popular drink in the north, made up of simply mixing the two, 50-50- for the group. Everyone is always skeptical of the combination before trying it, but I've yet to come across an honest person who can discredit it upon their second sip. I've grown very fond of it and will no doubt carry its splendor on into North America (so prepare yourselves)! We didn't indulge too heavily in the sweet nectar however, because we were to be up the next morning and out of the campsite before 5am in order to watch the sunrise from atop Dune 45. The sand was cold as we padded up the ridge of the dune in our bare feet. With every step the top of the dune seemed attainably closer and yet the ramble up the loose sand was deceptively interminable. My calves, thighs and lungs were screaming by the time I slouched myself down at the top of the enormous sand pile and waiting as the sun itself was climbing up from behind the dunes on the horizon. The rich red sand of the dunes glistened as the sun rays bounced off of it, their heat being trapped inside, quickly warming the morning. There was a long line of us seated along the top of the dune in quiet stillness, disturbed only by the sound of cameras clicking. We then all took turns taking pictures of one another and laughing and rejoicing at the beauty and excitement of where we were and what we had just experienced. The jaunt back down the dune was a lot quicker and a lot more leisurely than the climb was, and we were greeted with breakfast and hot (instant) coffee at the base of the dune.

After breakfast we were sardined into the back of a pickup truck (over 30 of us, standing up in the back of the small white truck, literally like sardines, that ambled across the sands of the dessert to take us to our "bushman walk" with a man who referred to himself as Bushman...and he took us on a walk through the dunes. The Bushmen, also referred to as the San people of Namibia, were a small, yellow/-skinned people who lived off of the land in the desert of Namibia. Bushman was not really a bushman, but he was most definitely an expert on the dessert and on the bushmen's ways of life. It was incredible how much he knew about the plants, wildlife and sands of the dessert. It seems so barren and desolate, but he was able to identity and discover life everywhere. He showed us spider trap-doors camouflaged in the sand, animal and insect tracks and droppings, and the pace they were travelling, and he even managed to catch a lizard halfway up a dune by simply tossing his hat, scurrying up the dune, and plunging his hand into the sand...pulling out the lizard. No amount of detail in describing what he was capable of and the things he showed us could do him justice, but he was captivating. Whenever he found something of interest he would stop and we would circle around to listen to him and watch his demonstration, and then before any of us realised he was finished, he had turned sharply on his heals and was quite literally 10 yards away dashing though the sands on to something new, his last few words still hanging in the air.

Near the end of the tour we were atop a sandy slope, left to our own devices on how we wanted to descend. Along with two of my fellow travellers, Ian and Justin, I took a running leap and dove down, sliding on my stomach before surrendering to summersaults and logrolls to the base. I felt like a five-year-old, laughing all the way down (which wasn't well thought out, considering the amount of sand I ate); it was exhilerating. I was also still finding sand in my hair, ears and nose for days following.