Should
you desire to stay inside the park you have two options, both
operated by Namibian Wildlife Resorts (NWR). There is the
Sesriem Camp Site or the ultra-swanky Sossus Dune Lodge. We went with
door number one. There are other options outside the park but
only folks staying within the park’s boundaries can reach the dunes
in time for sunrise. You want to reach the dunes in time for sunrise.
The main gate (leading to the actual park gate) opens a bit later for
the general public. Exclusivity is part of the appeal, especially in
regards to the Sossus Dune Lodge. One must be careful. Exclusivity
can sometimes lead to assholesivity.
After
setting up camp we hopped in the Spark for a leisurely drive inside
the park (rhyming was incidental). From Sesriem there is a 65 km road
leading through a desert dreamscape consisting of salt/clay pan
surrounded by large dunes. And at the end of the road
lies Sossusvlei,
the cherry on the proverbial surrealistic sundae. Ever want to
frolic in a painting?
Have I
mentioned the weather? Although relatively pleasant at the campsite
we could see storm clouds in the distance hovering over the dunes.
The attendant at the gate entrance mentioned something about flooding
and getting stranded but did not seem to be overly concerned about
the likelihood of such so we pressed on. It was not long before we
encountered heavy rain forcing us to slow our pace a bit. Thankfully,
the road into the park is paved so getting stuck in mud or sand was
not possible. Flooding on the other hand….However, the shower was
temporary and subsided as we continued west.
I
believe that in many ways we were incredibly lucky to be there during
that time (i.e. a time of atypical weather patterns). The landscape
and the weather combined for a truly unique display. On one side we
had copper-hued sand dunes looming nearby and on the other the dark
craggy silhouettes of small mountains straddling the edge of the park
like dark centurions. It felt a bit like some sort of geological
standoff, a topographical fault line delineated by seemingly delicate
strands of swarthy emerald silver-tipped grass. The ashen-colored
firmament only served to augment the bizarre contrasts of color and
helped underscore the ominous nature of the scene. You could almost
hear the clarion call in the distance. A rare scenario indeed. And
best of all we had the moment to ourselves.
We
continued into the level valley dividing the dune sea on either side.
Before long the clouds had disappeared and we encountered the desert
backdrop one would expect, a sun-drenched sandscape devoid of
vitality….almost. There was still a hint of life with the
occasional springbok here and there and the existence of trees and
seemingly random verdure speckling the canvas. Nothing about the
region seemed quite right and almost felt as if the creative force
behind the construction misread the schematics. Desert. Green. Sand.
Trees. Rain. Where the hell were we?
And
then I did something as inexplicable as the landscape. I drove off
the pavement into hard pan surrounding the road. This was incredibly
asinine, not because we might get stuck (I was convinced otherwise),
but because I had just driven off road in a national park. What could
justify such insensitivity? Well, nothing but there is an
explanation (not to be confused with a justification). Having
been in desert scenarios before (Bolivia, Tunisia, Mauritania for
example) I guess I had a false sense of freedom that often
accompanies a journey to such places. There were sporadic signs
reading ‘Stay On The Road’ but they were few and far between
which I, albeit mistakenly, interpreted as applying to the area in
and around the signpost. And as I saw nary a trace of vegetation that
could be potentially damaged at the site of my detour I honestly
believed such deviations were permissible. Otherwise I seriously
doubt we would have parked the car, erected a large multi-colored
beach umbrella, and savored peanut butter and jelly sandwiches amidst
a breathtaking and surrealistic desert backdrop all within a few
hundred meters of the road. Stupid? Clearly. Defiantly insolent? No
way.
After
all, do you think I want to live up to the obnoxiously douchey
American tourist stereotype? Negative ghost rider. I have a
deep seated respect for nature and its preservation so I can say
honestly I thought my act innocuous. The Namibian couple employed by
one of the lodges that approached us soon after rejoining the road
did not. To say they were dripping with disdain and contempt does not
remotely describe their disposition. If looks could kill I would be
dead….along with every living relative of mine. What started as,
‘What do you think you are doing?’ quickly devolved into a
crucifixion of our moral fiber. I offered no protest and apologized
repeatedly. My ridiculous hat and vapid countenance most likely did
nothing to quell their vitriol.
I
understood their sentiment and honestly felt terrible but then Mr.
Contemptuous said something that diluted the gravity of their tone
just a tad. He looked at me with a straight face and asked, ‘Do you
realize those tracks will be there for a thousand years?’. A
thousand years? Okay buddy, I get it. I’m an asshole but let’s
not go too far. We were then informed that such transgressions carry
a fine somewhere in the neighborhood of $500 US and that we had
better be careful not to do such a thing again. I thought they were
going to report us, an action I would have completely understood.
Instead they merely kept repeating how much trouble we could get into
if we were caught which, if I am not mistaken, implies they would not
report us. Guess what they did? Fair enough but if we knew this to be
their course of action we would have happily followed them back to
the ranger shack and owned up to our actions. Follow your conscience.
Do the right thing. No need to be an unctuous prick about it.
After
tracing the road to its end we turned around and headed back towards
the campsite. Along the way we were stopped by a white truck driven
by a park official. Instead of asking if we were the douchebags in
question he asked if we were the only small white car in the area
(this quickly lead to our unmasking). Consequently, we followed him
back to his office, admitted our guilt, and received a stern
lecture.
Luckily,
our only punishment was a warning. No fines. No expulsion. I
discovered that their main reason for the prohibition is aesthetics,
not irreparable damage. I agree with the policy. The restriction
applies to vehicles, not people so if we had parked on the side of
the road and walked a bit in order to stage our surrealist picnic
then no problem (Thousand year footprints?). They don’t want
vehicle tracks crisscrossing the landscape. Perfectly understandable.
This, however, does not apply to Soussusvlei where you are not only
allowed to drive your 4wd but if you do not have one park employees
will shuttle you around in theirs. Yes, I am a dipshit just not quite
the colossal dipshit I originally believed. Baby steps.
 |
| Photo by Leslie |
No comments:
Post a Comment
'Love me or hate me, but spare me your indifference.' -- Libbie Fudim