The most visited spot in Namibia is not the famous Etosha National Park but rather Sossusvlei which is a salt and clay pan surrounded by high red dunes, located in the southern part of the Namib Desert. This place is cool for a number of reasons. First, the Namib Desert, at 80 million years, is the oldest desert in the world (in people years, that's roughly the same age as newly retired supercop Mike C). Secondly, Sossusvlei literally translates to “dead-end marsh”, as it is the place where the dunes come together blocking the Tsauchab River in its' desperate attempt to reach the ocean, just some 60km short of the Atlantic. And thirdly, the dunes of Sossusvlei are the highest in the world with some reaching almost 400m (some of the dunes forming in the back of the campervan might be the second highest in the world). 

We saw pretty much no one as we drove up from Fish River so imagine our surprise when we were told that the campground in the National Park was full (perhaps the Wounded Zebra didn't meet the dress code they were trying to establish for this trailer park??). Fortunately as we were gassing up nearby we spotted some sites in behind the service station. First we get kicked out of a hotel parking lot in South Africa and now we're camping in the back lot of a gas station in Namibia- DH is not seeing this as the magic carpet ride she was promised. On the bright side, easy access to gas station food meant we didn't have to cook anything.

As soon as the gates opened the next morning we rumbled on through hoping to get some of the early morning light. Our first wildlife sighting was a radar trap set up about ten kms inside the park- fortunately the Wounded Zebra isn't built for speed but it was more than a touch irritating to me to see a swarm of Namibian Police who we hadn't seen anywhere else, sitting on a blind corner well inside a National Park with set speed limits of 40 km/hr, targeting tourists only. DH, who won a couple of toasters by hitting quotas back in her Toronto Policing days, saw it as effective and creative policing. Fortunately all was forgotten as the dunes came into view- we eventually had to ditch the Wounded Zebra and jump on a 4x4 as all roads were swallowed up by powdery dirt.

They have even given the dunes names like Dune 45, Big Daddy and Deadvlei- we're calling the one building in the back of the campervan the Zebra Dump. There's something magic about these dunes with the shape-shifting nature of this landscape and the changing colours as the sun moves through the sky. Anyone looking through the attached photos will need to brace themselves as I've discovered that dunes are the landscape version of monkeys for me- taking hundreds of photos seemed like a really good idea at the time?? Apparently I'm not alone- although the pan was bone dry this year (as it is most years), after an exceptional rainy season the Tsauchab fills the pan, and photographers flock from all over the world to witness the reflection of sand dunes in a glassy 'lake'. It might be the only place in the world where something like that happens.

DH had some sort of childhood flashback and had us climbing some of the taller dunes for the sole purpose of running, out-of-control, all the way to the bottom. After a night camped behind a gas station, I wasn't about to argue with her.