Kalahari to the coast

By mid-afternoon, we have arrived at Auob Lodge on the edge of the Kalahari Desert. There are welcome drinks and an early-evening game drive. It is thirsty land around us, the grass yellowed with months of dry, sweltering days. But as soon as we are perched up on the open-roofed game-drive truck, the desert sky suddenly turns grey and within minutes, it is pelting down. In front of us, the yellow grass is animal-free. "Only one animal stupid enough to be seen out in this weather," someone mutters. But within minutes, the rain has subsided and suddenly the grass is alive with springboks.

Perched on an acacia tree is an ugly thing. Almost featherless, it looks like a badly plucked turkey, its fleshy sandy skin hanging loose around its neck and pulled tight around the rest of its unattractive body. Through binoculars, it is so close I am fooled into thinking I might be able to touch it. "White-backed vulture," says the game-truck driver.

We see ostriches with a string of chicks trailing behind them before we stumble across a scene that takes my breath away: a pair of giraffe. I am captivated both by the improbability of their dimensions – tiny head, long thick neck and spindly legs – and the improbability of their gait as, awkwardly, they make their way through the grass.

The next morning, Karl-Heinz has a surprise for me: my backpack, which has been couriered from Windhoek Airport. In my excitement to have it back, at first I don't notice that it has been rifled through and many of my clothes stolen: my jeans, my shorts, my Birkenstocks, although strangely, not the black knickerbockers I briefly imagined might be just the right thing for a Namibian odyssey.

We head further south to the Fish River Canyon, the second-largest canyon in the world. On the way, we stop at Naute Dam and walk along its post-apocalyptic landscape of granite and basalt, a study in desolation broken only by the odd tree or bush and a tiny kiosk that looks like a toilet block. The kiosk is staffed by Denise, a red-faced English woman who, 20 years ago, decided – on the basis of a wet, miserable English afternoon – to up and move to Africa.

Karl-Heinz runs his hand over a bush of dry, light green spindles. It is milk bush, an unassuming name for a plant filled with the deadly sap used by Namibian Bushmen to dab on the tips of their arrows. "Several years ago," Karl-Heinz tells us, "there was a group of travellers who had stopped for a picnic. They decided to have a barbecue and set about collecting twigs of the milk bush plant to use as firewood. Of the seven," he informs us gravely, "only the vegetarian survived."

To the west is Sossusvlei, a large clay pan surrounded by possibly the highest dunes in the world. It is a place of softness and gentle colours. We climb one of the dunes. The sand is soft, and with each step, a tiny part of the dune collapses. When we reach the top, we are alone. Around us, all is silent. Dunes surround us: soft, shadowed hues of pink-brown-orange. Rarely have I been so astonished by a landscape. For a long time, I sit there and it is with reluctance that I finally leave this quietly extraordinary place.

After a day's travelling, we emerge from the desert to find ourselves in the coastal town of Swakopmund, the extreme sports capital of Namibia. It is a pretty place with a good street market of African wares.

At Walvis Bay, to the south of Swakopmund, I take an early-morning boat tour. As we motor through the sea, there are flying pelicans ahead joined, to my astonishment, by a group of flying flamingos. One of the passengers is a professional photographer. I galvanise my creative energy to emulate her and within an hour, the memory stick of my pocket camera is brimming with images of seabirds, dolphins and seals. Rarely have I been so satisfied with my photographic skills.

Somehow, however, the camera slips out of my hand, lands on the back ledge of the boat and disappears into the water. In disbelief, I stare after it. Everyone on board also falls silent except the captain, Christos, who says loudly: "In 2 years, never have I seen that happen. Never."

The silence is broken as, slowly, each of the passengers approaches me with their condolences. I struggle to stay composed and although I remind myself that much worse things have befallen other people, I am not entirely convinced.

The following day, I meet Charles, who is small, wiry and about 23 years old. He is our tour guide for the safari through Etosha National Park. After introducing himself, he gives a chuckle. "Remember that lions can run faster than you. If they want to, they will kill you. And they can climb trees – except for vertical trees – so if you want to escape, look for a vertical tree to climb."

En route to Okaukuejo, the main camp at Etosha, we see a group of elands – the largest of the antelope family – a herd of zebras and a family of warthogs.

Then, sitting under an acacia tree, I spot a lion and lioness through my binoculars. They are a majestic pair: their eyes serene and intelligent, imbuing them with such a sense of wisdom and authority that I am lulled into a sense of security. "And yet," says Charles happily, "in four seconds they can drag you out of your car window and rip you apart. A German tourist who fell asleep at a waterhole – never do this – was eaten by a lion. When the lion was shot and cut open, all that was left of the man was his German passport."

No lions rip any of our number apart although, the following day, we unwittingly disturb a lioness stalking a gemsbok. As we approach her, the gemsbok hears us, is frightened and breaks into a run. Defeated, the lioness turns away and, to my disappointment – or perhaps relief – disappears in the grassland.

TRIP NOTES

GETTING THERE

South African Airways flies to Windhoek from Sydney every day except for Saturdays. Phone 1300 435 972, see www.flysaa.com.

Qantas flies to Windhoek from Sydney three times a week. Phone 13 13 13, see qantas.com.

WHILE THERE

A seven-day southern tour with Springbok Atlas includes all accommodation, six breakfasts, six dinners and transportation. It costs $2005 a person sharing, see www.springbokatlas.co.za/scheduled_tours.php. A three-day Etosha link with Wild Dog Safari includes all meals, transportation and camping accommodation. It costs $396 a person. See wilddog-safaris.com/safari_tours/etosha.

FURTHER INFORMATION

Namibia Tourism Board (namibiatourism.com.na).