The anticipation of today’s border crossing means a light sleep and early getaway. It feels like we’re on the home stretch, even though there are still nearly 3000km to cover. By coffee time we are near the granite mine of Chibemba. Big blocks lie scattered along the road- quite useful as a table.
We again refuel at Cahama, but at Xangongo we leave the tar to take a look at the Calueque dam that feeds into the Ruacana weir at the border with Namibia. The protection of the Kunene Water Scheme was South Africa’s declared motivation for getting involved in the Angolan conflict in 1975, when it was still under construction.
We find a shady spot under the trees next to the gravel road for our lunch break before tackling the sandy stretch that follows the Cunene river towards the dam.
The scenery along road belies the fierce fighting that took place here in 1988, which resulted in the destruction of the dam wall, pump station and pipeline. Today, only bullet holes are left as a reminder.
Repair work on the dam only commenced in 2012, and to this day the Kunene Water Scheme has yet to reach its designed capacity, resulting in persistent seasonal fluctuations of its power generation for Namibia.
We miss the turnoff to the dam wall, but this lookout (some 40km north of it) has a great viewpoint. This is part of the dam reservoir, and the water level is clearly quite low.
The dam wall and pumping station are 20km southwest of Naulila, where we get flagged down by a jovial policeman who keeps a register of the passing traffic.
Although it’s in Angola, the facility was built by South Africa to provide both water and electricity for Ovamboland, where 25% of Namibia’s population resides. A 300km network of open canals distributes this lifeblood from the Calueque dam through the region to this day. The water for the hydro-electric generators is fed from the Ruacana weir through a pressure tunnel to the underground power station in Namibia.
The last bit gets more sandy, with sand puddles in the lower dips. They’re difficult to see as the shadows creep across the road, and the best technique is to slow down before the rim before gunning it through the soft stuff to the other side. I nearly lose it when I spot a puddle too late, but manage to squirrel through to firmer ground.
And so we reach the border post. It’s poorly indicated on the Angolan side and badly run on the Namibian side: it takes them an hour to produce our TIPs, but at least we manage to get through just before they close.
The canal on the Namibian side is in much worse shape than on the Angolan side.
After a short sharp turn around the fence, we hit the C46 tar road. We lose time locating an ATM in Oshifo and only just manage to get some beer and cider before the shop closes. Getting back to Namibia feels worthy of a small celebration!
As we descend back to the Cunene river towards the Hippo Pools campsite, I hit reserve but fuel will have to wait until tomorrow as darkness falls around us.
A woman unlocks the gate as we pull up, and assures us that there is hot water in the donkey. For the princely sum of R50 each we have the entire camp to ourselves and pitch the tent within one of the braai circles overlooking the river. Time to unwind at last.
The showers do indeed boast hot water, but the bathrooms have deteriorated markedly since my previous visit in 2011.
Instead of backtracking via the Okavango, we head south for the Transkalahari next morning- the shortest route. We pull in at Ruacana to refuel, and spot two young Himbas doing the same. It's tricky wearing modern safety gear and those traditional braids, but they have clearly managed to solve that problem!
Namibia almost feels like home, and of course there are proper campsites here. In addition, we are now spoilt with picnic spots as well.
Some classic Namibian scenery along the way.
With this being Namibia, the road south is pretty straight. Late in the afternoon some sand gets whipped up, darkening the sky.
We pull off at Ombinda Country Lodge just outside Outjo, where new camping spots with private ablutions have just been completed. Even the grass is lush- a regular oasis.
After supper, we go to bed without the tent’s outer layer – no likelihood of rain here- but by midnight it’s cold enough to require the outer cover. Hello winter!
More accommodation on offer along the way:
With wildlife to boot.
Apart from the anthills that are scattered around...
… we see warthogs every few kilometres throughout the day until we approach Gobabis. They forage in the grass along the fences lining the road, but make a run for it when you stop.
The odd gemsbok too ... the contrast of abundant wildlife here compared to what we have experienced north of the border is striking.
The campsite at the edge of the town looks like a starting point for the German tourists who rent those Toyota 4x4 expedition bakkies to tour the country. They really are fully equipped to explore the country.
We pitch our tent amongst them and enjoy a supper in the restaurant. An old farmer at the table next to mentions that this is the driest season in his lifetime- half of his boreholes have dried up.
The air is crisp as we hit the Transkalahari highway the next morning.
It’s come of age this year (2019)!
There’s a shop selling delicious pies just before the border, and checking back into Botswana is a breeze. We don’t even need a new TIP as they are valid for 3 months. We do need to carry fuel, however, to cover the 400km to Kang. Anyone who has travelled this road will know that it is… boring!
We reach Kang on fumes and pull in at the Motel, which has a campsite next to the highway and a small ablution block for each campsite, as well as rooms one can rent.
South Africa is now just a day-trip away and by late afternoon we are through the Lobatse border post onto the N4 and back on home soil.
The density of people living along this road is striking compared to Botswana’s modest population- there are houses and huts as far as the eye can see all the way to Zeerust. The speed of the vehicles here is noticeably faster than that of our laid-back neighbours. It’s a bit of a shock to the system to hit the rat race so suddenly.
We spot a neat motel just outside the town and spoil ourselves with a Wimpy takeway- haven’t seen one of those for months!
To avoid the traffic on the N4 the next morning, we take the back roads home through Koster. It’s way more relaxing meandering past the farms.
By early afternoon it’s all over as we finally get back home, all in one piece. Even our dogs seem to have forgotten who we are, staring curiously at the strange contraptions carrying us through the gate. After such a long time on the road, it's going to take some adjustment not to look in the rear view mirror anymore.
Topic: To the Lungs of the Earth (Read 24982 times)
