“How tough could it be” I think to myself as I’m snuggly warm in my sleeping bag, dreading getting out into the cold morning air, and could hear our tour leader doing her rounds to wake up her weary troops.
Moving at a snails’ pace, we geared up against the chilly air and made our way to claim our self-rewarded coffee and rusks. We painted a dismal picture half asleep as we got into our overland truck and made our way into the queue of campsite vehicles at the Sesriem gate, entering the Namib Desert.
It was barely a minute after we’d started driving that I really woke up to the sight of the Namib dunes dressed in various shades of blue’s, purples and grey’s, dancing in the night sky changing shape and colour as we drove down the single, partially, tarred road going deeper into the worlds’ oldest desert. I was getting excited.
Forty five kilometres later, we reached our destination standing at the foot of Dune 45. It is named Dune 45 because it is 45 km from Sesriem Camp, where we set out, on the road leading to Sossusvlei.
Tying my shoe laces, I let the eager beavers get their head start on making the little sandy steps which would take us to the top. By the time we finally reached the highest point, panting for water, we were assumed our spot single file next to each other and cameras on and ready.
There was a hum of excitement until we saw it … the first glimmer of orange slowly peaking over the furthest dune in the distance followed by lighter shades of oranges and yellows touching the highest points, reaching into the deeper, darker folds of the dunes, an African Picasso unfolding in front of our eyes. It was simply breathtaking!