Naukluft Hiking Trail #12 - And then, suddenly, it was over

So we arrived back at  the starting point of our Naukluft expedition not too long after lunchtime having completed eight days of scenic hiking. Where we were met and checked in by a slightly bemused Man Behind The Desk.

We didn't have much time to hang about, which was a pity. There's always a need to decompress after an intense experience like this. But a long drive home to Johannesburg awaited us. Besides, Adeline and I had our next adventure awaiting us.

Let me explain, and tourism people in Namibia, listen up.

While planning the Naukluft hike the two of us decided to spend an extra two weeks in Namibia, with plans to travel to Sesriem, Swakopmund and perhaps up to the Kunune river. We weren't enthusiastic about camping after ten days of roughing it,  preferring to rather stay over in a handful of mid-priced lodges along the way.

However after spending a few nights researching accommodation it was perfectly clear that lodging in Namibia is EXPENSIVE. A very average three star establishment will set you back R1 800 per night,  and R2 500 isn't unheard of. A special location is best not spoken of in Rands, but rather in Euro, even if it just sounds more affordable, which of course it isn't. In addition guest reviews of most places were very luke-warm, which points to average facilities and service being the norm.

Seriously, I couldn't find anything within a reasonable budget to stay over at in the whole of Namibia, except for two or three very delapitated self-catering places. So we started looking for somewhere else with nice scenery to comfortably put our weary feet up after Naukluft. Cut a long story short, we settled on Ireland because, one, no visas required, and two, we could spend two weeks in Ireland for less that we would pay in Namibia, Emirates flight included. I know, sounds crazy, but there you have it. Namibia is clearly not interested in South African tourists, preferring Euro-spending Germans.

Dunloe, Ireland.

And that's how we came to say a hasty goodbye to our fellow hikers outside the reception office of Naukluft. We had a flight to catch to Dublin from ORTIA in Johannesburg in two days' time, and a good 1 700km journey still lay ahead of us.

________

The Naukluft should be on every serious hiker's to-do list, period. It rolls every challenge found on different types of hikes into one, and a little more of each. It's further, it's steeper, it's colder (and hotter in summer) but it's also the most beautiful and scenic hike I've done. It's tough yes, but don't believe the exaggerations. With decent equipment, sustenance and a reasonable level of fitness you can do it. I did it, and I'm no Virgin Active junkie.

So go do it.

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.

Naukluft Hiking Trail #11 - The home run

I can't recall many specifics about the final morning on the Naukluft trail. We must have gone through the usual motions of rising just before dawn, getting a camping stove or two going for coffee water, doing our extremely basic ablutions, and having a functional breakfast. In-between there'd be bedding to be folded and packed away and a last check to see that nothing had been left behind. That was the daily routine; this had been our morning ritual for the past few days, but by now it had all become a bit blurry.

I seem to recall we did agree to sleep a little later than usual since it was a relatively easy 14km downhill walk home, but most were up at the usual pre-dawn hour. Such habits die hard especially if you're sleeping on gravel separated only by a thin layer of foam. (Note to self: Follow the example of person who brought with a plain, simple kid's lilo).

I put my Hi-Tecs on for the final time, after snapping a soulful image of them against the prevailing landscape. They'd served me well, but the soles had several deep cuts and the rubber was chipped quite badly. I'd have to pension them off when I return home.

The first few kilometers were spent crossing a section of the table top Kapokvlakte, and then we entered the final canyon that would carry us down almost right up to the door of Hiker's Haven.

The crystal clear stream we picked up along the way flowed stronger and faster as we descended. After so many days of seeing very little water it felt good, there's something reassuring in having a gurgling flow of water in close proximity on a hike. We lunched at a series of large rock pools below a small waterfall, and for most in the group it was hard to resist a quick plunge before the final seven or eight kilometers home. I'm not much for swimming in places where I have to share the water with floating objects that include dark green, slimy bits of algae and semi-drowned goggas but I thought I'd be a sport and join in. As to be expected the water was icy cold and I don't think I spent more than about four minutes before settling on a warm bank of rocks to dry out.

It was a nice, long and lazy break, but as soon as we started off again everyone walked faster and faster, expecting to see the final stretch after each bend in the canyon. The final stretch of a hike is always like that - just a little longer and further than you expect it to be. The short walk through the shady camping area and the dusty road leading to Hiker's Haven eventually arrived, and then, the final hundred meters to the compact little two-room building where we knew we'd find the Man Behind The Counter.

He looked slightly perplexed as he watched eight dusty, slightly beshevelled hikers file into the tiny office.

'You finished all eight days?'

No, you silly man. We camped just over the first hill, living for a week on Old Brown Sherry and Woolies chicken sosaties.

We asked about the hiking group we'd seen at Tsams Ost. He shook his head. 'Not finishing. We had to rescue them, one of the group developed a knee problem.' He turned the visitor's book over for us to sign.

'You're the first South African group to finish this year.'

I could be mistaken but I sensed a slight note of admiration in his voice.

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.

Naukluft Hiking Trail #10 - The last night

We woke up early on the morning of our second last day with everyone in a hurry to start walking. Normally we left the shelters in one group, but today everyone followed their own lead, and by the time Adeline and I saddled up we were the last to leave, the others having gone ahead. This had us speculating that the trail may just be a little too long, that six days rather than eight may be more ideal to prevent burnout and this sort of 'social disintegration' setting in. But that's idle speculation. The Naukluft is a solid eight days long whether you like it or not, and it's not getting shorter anytime soon.

We steadily gained height during the course of the morning until we reached a rock pile at the highest point of the trail. We were on top, so to speak!

Everyone knew from here on it was pretty much plain sailing and that the canyon slogging of the past few days had come to an end. So we enjoyed an extra long pause to have lunch and absorb the last amazing view of the outstretched valleys before we start on the final leg home. That would be plateau, and then a slow decline down to the starting point at Hiker's Haven.

The afternoon's walk was a long stretch crossing Kapokvlakte. After six days of mountains and deep valleys, we were now in a dramatically different landscape - a perfectly flat table top blanketed all the way to the horizon with kapokbosse - a dusty green shrub covered in pearl-sized, cotton-like balls that gave the plain its name.

Shallow indentations hinted at pans of water during summer, and here and here I spotted patches of mud and sludgy water with hundred of hoof indentations pockmarking the edges of the dark pools. Small herds of springbok broke the horizon now and again, the little ones playfully hopping and bouncing along.

Our final shelter, appropriately named Kapokvlakte, remained hidden behind a massive clump of bushes and trees until we were literally a few yards from it.  Later, as we were preparing the last of the food in our bags for dinner, we were treated to the most spectacular bright orange sunset. Those who still had battery power left in their cameras scurried into the surrounding veld to capture this highlight of the trail. Having slept mostly at the bottoms of canyons the past few days, the sun would leave us quite surreptitiously and unnoticed every night, as it faded behind the mountains. Finally seeing the quintessential African sun set behind the horizon here on our final evening seemed like an appropriate goodbye from all of beautiful Naukluft.

By now temperatures had risen somewhat, and tonight wasn't as cold as it been at the outset. Or perhaps my skin had grown a layer or two of extra protection. I decided to for the first time ditch the thermal underwear that had kept me from freezing to death on previous nights, and slept soundly until 7am,  two hours later than our normal rising time.

As we set out on the straight footpath leading home I turned a last time and looked at the last of the familiar stone shelters that had kept us, sort of, protected during the trail. Across the plain a few springboks were watching us walk away, curious about these strange animals that kept trekking through their territory.

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.

Naukluft Hiking Trail #9 - Up a waterfall

The next morning a few of  us took the slight detour that leads to the base of the impressive Die Valle cliff before starting out on the day's hike. Only a thin, silver trickle of water was dripping its long way down to the pebble-strewn base of what must be a breathtaking waterfall to behold after heavy rains. The cliff is more than 200m high and almost as wide, which means an awe-inspiring curtain of water  tumbles down here after a good thunder shower, only to dissipate into the gravel within an hour or two and return the scenery to the waterless landscape it is most of the time.

This morning's climb included a challenging 500m uphill, first to the top of Die Valle waterfall and then further up the canyon to a small plateau.   The climb was, as I suspected, a very steep up and up, and to make it manageable I broke it into 50m sections, stopping for a minute or two at each point to catch my breath. Two or three times a deceptive ridge would make it look like I was nearing the summit, but each time I was fooled and another upward stretch showed itself.

The climb ended more or less right at the lip of the Die Valle waterfall. A large, clear rock pool enticed two or three of the braver walkers to shed their clothes, and in their undies wallow into the icy cold water for a few minutes before settling in the sun to dry out. Straight below us the extensive, flat valley we'd crossed the day stretched to the horizon.

The landscapes you see in Naukluft are as varied and unique as the time you spend there; no two vistas that unfold are ever the same. You may spend a few minutes admiring the view, walk a few hundred metres further, turn around, and what you see will have changed completely since you last looked.

It was only slightly past lunchtime when we started the steep downhill that led to the Tufa Shelter, tonight's stayover. The route wound its way along an old mountain pass that had been remarkably well laid out many, many years before, connecting a sheep faming outpost at the top of the mountain to the farmstead below. It was once well surfaced and bordered by a neat stone wall but now its gravel surface was deeply eroded and at places strewn with rocks that had tumbled down the mountainside.

After a while glances in the direction of the setting sun made us realise we had to step up the pace in order to reach the shelter before dusk. We'd totally under-estimated the time it would take to get to the bottom of the pass. I was a bit disappointed because not only do I dislike rushing a hike, especially one I'll probably never in my life do again, but also because the scenery along the way had a special ambience, imbued with a feeling of melancholy for the toil of the hardened farmers who tamed the land here for a while before it started slipping back into nature, as we saw now.

Once we reached the base of the mountain pass it took a while to locate the shelter - blame bad signage and the approaching nightfall. Thus far trail markings have been almost perfect, and in all the time we'd been walking we only missed the ubiquitous painted yellow footprint guiding us along on no more than on two or three occasions. All along it was clear that the trail was being well maintained and looked after.

Familiar foot marking hanging from a tree.

The mood at the shelter that night was slightly downbeat and less boisterous than before. Nothing had changed - the toilet was no more dodgy than before, and everyone was still getting along fine. But I could sense the six days of hard trekking was taking its toll. And, I discovered my first foot blister. Nothing to worry about, but there it was, covering half my left foot big toe. So far I'd managed to stay blister free, but due to the fast downhill pace through the mountain pass I'd pushed my feet a little too hard, and this was the consequence. I made a mental note to stick to a foot-friendly pace for the remainder of the trail. Last thing I want are feet that pack up with the trail end in sight. So I duly doctored the blister with a fancy zinc oxide plaster kindly donated by someone who had a few extra. It worked like a charm, because it never bothered me for the rest of the trail.

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.

Naukluft Hiking Trail 8 - Room with shower

And here we are, about to start day number five.

The path leading away from our overnight spot wound its by now familiar arid, rock-strewn way along hillsides and scenic canyons decorated with sparse clutches of spiky succulents and quiver trees.

Along the way we paused at a windmill hidden among a few dark green thorn trees. It was spinning wildly in the stiff breeze, yet the cement dam beside it was bone dry. All the man-made watering points we passed so far on the trail - mostly leftovers from the area's earlier farming days -  were waterless, meaning it had been a lean summer that had recently turned into an early winter, which was where we were now in the seasonal cycle. It's a tough, unforgiving land, this Naukluft, and I silently admired the pioneers who first settled here many decades ago.

Today's trail was another solid 17km walk but after an hour or two of scaling a steep ridge the going levelled off, especially once we landed on a jeep track meandering its way along seemingly endless stretch of flat scrubland, carrying on for what felt like an eternity. The track eventually turned into a well-maintained dirt road leading into an impressive amphitheatre surrounded on three sides by towering cliffs several hundred metres high. One of the broadest cliffs visible in the distance was the imposing but bone dry Die Valle waterfall, which we had to scale tomorrow.

The first sign that indicated that tonight's stay-over was close by was a water tower with something that looked like a makeshift shower at its base.  Wow! That would be a first. So far our bathing facilities have been limited to water from a two litre fold-up bucket, allowing for rinsing down only the most essential parts of our bodies. I was one of three lads who reached the tower first and it didn't take any convincing for us to dump our packs and before you can say "Lux beauty soap" we were splashing around under the gushing spout of water from an overhead pipe. We were soon reprimanded by the group laggards for wasting precious water but I think they were merely a little jealous having to wait for us to finish and emerge with broad smiles, soaked and refreshed.

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.

Naukluft Hiking Trail #7... Halfway!

Day four, and we're on our way  to having done half of the legendary Naukluft Hiking Trail. I say 'on our way', because ahead of us still lay a full 17km, eight hour day of imitating the agile dassies we keep having glimpses of as they perch camouflaged and motionless, high up on white streaked, crusty boulders and tiny rockface ledges, or scurried between their family homes in cracks and crevices.

Spot the furry animal.

Today's walking menu was mercifully mostly downhill except for two not-too-streneous inclines. By now the unbroken, majestic landscapes of Naukluft had convinced me that this was the most beautiful desert hike I've walked. The canyons were getting deeper and narrower as we progressed, and the air of silent desolation became almost tangible. On more than one occasion in the morning I held back, falling behind everyone else by twenty minutes in order to walk in total silence. The only sound I heard from time to time was the sudden crackle of stones tumbling down as a pair of surefooted klipspringers bounded away on the opposite wall of the canyon.

Mid-afternoon there was a steep, very steep scramble down in a treacherous gully filled with loose gravel, into a narrow valley. By lunchtime the group had split up and four of us walking together downed our packs not far from an impressive dry waterfall where a side canyon joined the one we were walking in. Lunch, for us, was two John West tuna standards complemented by the obligatory raisins and energy bars. Someone else sat peeling two boiled eggs, something the owner swore was heaven's gift to the long-distance hiker.   After this pleasant break we followed the dry river bed until the valley opened up rapidly into a mountain-ringed floodplain, and finally it was an easy  two kilometer walk along a well-kept dirt road walk to Tsams Ost, our fourth overnight.

It's common knowledge that hikers have the option to drive to Tsams Ost beforehand and stash half their rations there, thus making the load to carry during eight days of hiking considerably lighter. Tsams-Ost however is a very bumpy two-hour, 250km drive from the starting point, not a pleasant prospect for me, having driven 1 700km in the previous two days. Fortunately, after a little negotiation with the Guy Behind The Counter we got all eight ration packs transported to Tsams Ost by the camp management for the bargain price of R600. I'd never heard or read about this welcome  little feature of the hike before, so perhaps it's new, or maybe it's someone's little entrepreneural side business.

But right now someone was fidgeting with the lock of the Army-sized, green steel cupboard standing next to the Tsams Ost shelter. It held several bottles of wine, tinned puddings, and a bakkie load of boxes containing assorted treats that would provide a nice break from the culinary  tedium that has developed in the past four days. The mood at dinner time was considerably lighter and the chatter around the supper 'table' - the tiny stone top tables on the trail are designed more for a cosy dinner-for-two than eight hungry hikers - went on a little later into the evening than normal.

About toilets on Naukluft. They're of the typical long-drop variation throughout, except tick the 'none' box for Ubisis kloof hut. And make all of them SMELLY and SHORT-drop. Which made a few of the more delicate hikers in the ranks opt for spades and squatting.

Shortly after we arrived at Tsams Ost a Ford Fortuner towing a trailer pulled up and a not-so-young-looking woman and two male companions started packing their half-way supplies into the green cupboards.  Turns out they were starting their Naukluft adventure the following day but has decided, contrary to us, to drop off their replenishments themselves.

 They left no more than a few minutes later, and we never saw them again. Turns out they never completed the route. Someone in their group started suffering from bad knees and they fell out on the second day. The account of their rescue, as told to us by The Man Behind The Counter upon our return sounded harrowing.

 The red wine we'd brought along had put us all into a jolly mood and we all went to bed with smiles on our faces. So far the gods have been with us and their were no serious aches and pains, and equally important, everyone's head was in the right space. There was no turning back, despite the alluring shortcut sign pointing in the direction of the trail starting point we saw earlier in the day. Aluta continua!

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.

Naukluft Hiking Trail #6... Blisters

I left the camp, or rather the slab of concrete we called home the previous night still chewing frantically on a peanut bar, trying to get my energy levels up to a point where I'll be able to walk up the steep canyon for a few kilometers and scale a few chains inbetween. My normal, hearty breakfast consisting of coffee, a generous helping of Futurelife, and my blaster dosre of vitamin pills and energy sweets would have to wait until we reach the top of the canyon, 400 leg breaking meters above us, where we'd agreed to pause at a rock pool to eat and stock up our water supplies. I say 400m up, because the horizontal 14-17km we walked each day wasn't the issue, it was the daily slog of clambering in and out of canyons that took its toll.

On the way up we walked past the ubiquitous quiver trees flowering bright yellow bouquets, the first time I've ever seen them in bloom. Their flowers weren't unique; all along the drably coloured trail small splashes of colour decorated shrubs as if a giant artist spilled droplets of paint among the rocks and boulders that littered the way.

After about an hour of walking we reached the bottom of the first chain, the same one we'd used to descend into Ubisis Kloof the previous day. I felt a bit wobbly having had no meaningful sustenance but managed to heave myself and my kit up all of the chain sections, finally reaching a spot where, as usual, the fast walkers were already lighting their stoves and boiling water alongside a rock pool in the tiny stream that trickles along the base of the canyon.

Here's a tip on how to enjoy the Naukluft: Don't count kilometers. Day after day you'll be cris-crossing canyons that, if you're not careful, will feel like a never-ending rock-strewn eternity. Don't worry, they all do come to an end. And all have stunning landscapes that very few earthlings have ever visited and had the privilege to see. So make the most of your time there - stop often, enjoy the scenery, pause, be in the moment.

On most days the afternoon's hike is generally across flat plains, or runs down-hill. The designer of Naukluft, apart from being a chain fanatic, was also a master at understanding hike philosophy: Nothing breaks a hiker's spirit like a long uphill trudge climbat the end of the day when the hut is within sniffing distance. Here there are none of that, it's always a gentle roll up to the hut.

So it was a relatively easy walk across a few low rises to our next stop, Adelhorst Shelter. It was once again a roofed stone kraal, this time a round one with a hand crank water pump right next to it. By now stringing a washing line had sort of by default become my job at each stop-over, and within half an hour of it garments of all colours and shapes and sizes were fluttering in the wind.

It always strikes me how quickly daily rituals develop on hikes. One of the those on Naukluft  was the regular pre-dinner plaster session, bandaging up the day's blisters. And blisters there were aplenty, and they multiplied as the days went on. Of the eight hikers only two were blister-less by the end, and I wasn't one of them. Boulder-hopping, rocky canyons and sheer distance took it's toll.

Fortunately one forward-looking hiker brought along zinc oxide plasters, which kept the pain and agony at bay. And most importantly, she brought enough along to keep a small army marching. I salute your foresight and sharing spirit, Comrade.

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.

Naukluft Hiking Trail #5: The Legendary Chains

All legendary hiking trails have quirky features and unique curved balls that, when they're talked about in general conversation, cause a tingle of apprehension, and raises the eyebrows of the uninitiated. Most of these mystical features can be distilled to one word, and in the case of the Naukluft that word is CHAINS. Note the multiple, it's intentional.

The guy (it would have been a guy) who developed the Naukluft route was probably a Marlboro Man type of character - tough, rugged, up for the challenge and convinced that everyone can keep up with his bundu bashing pace. So while on his treks to establish and lay out the route that would become the Naukluft Hiking Trail, he did on various occasions choose not to go around a natural obstacle but simple climb over it. Clearly his thinking was that future hikers, carrying their 15kg backpacks, would have no problem scaling 25m high dry waterfalls with nothing more than a pinch of courage and two bare hands. Fortunately sanity prevailed and he installed chain sections at the two dozen places en route where hikers have to climb over asteroid-sized boulders, shuffle precariously along canyon walls and find their way down cliffs that even the brave Naukluft dassies shy away from.

And here we were on the second day of the trail, staring down a rock face over which dangled a section of smoothly worn chain that was the gateway into Ubisis Kloof. Two members of our group were, fortunately for the amateurs among us,  seasoned mountaineers who on several occasions saved the more clumsy among us from falling to our deaths, or at the very least helped keep the skin on our knees and elbows. They were already at the bottom of the kloof, merrily waving back to us and shouting encouragement. So one after the other the remaining six of us took hold of the chain and gingerly lowered ourselves, helped along by advice from below - a little to the left, a little to the right.... Almost there! I got down with no more damage than a scraped elbow and a finger pulled out of joint when it got tangled in a  chain link at about halfway.  As each hiker reached the bottom a cheer went up from those already there.

And so it continued during most remaining days on the Naukluft, up and down those legendary chains.

Are the chains really worthy of 'legendary'? I think so, yes. Many hikes have ladders, steps, and railings that make the trail easier. The Naukluft chains aren't there to make the going easier, they're obstacles in themselves, there to challenge you again, and again, and again. Well, that's the way it was for the majority of us who lost our climbing instincts at the age of seven, more or less at the time we discovered elevators and escalators.

It doesn't look that high, but the base of the cliff is about 30m down.

But, back to the hike. Three days  (that now feels like an eternity (ago) when we set off on this little junket, the Man Behind The Desk warned us, with a rather wilting apology, that the former holiday home we'd be staying over on the second day wasn't in as pristine condition as it may have been in its heyday, thirty years ago. Sure, the dilapidated four room building had bunk beds, a shower, and an outside toilet, but to cut a long story short we took one look at the filth that presented itself to us, and rolled out our sleeping bags under the stars on a slab of bare cement besides the erstwhile holiday house.

Most of us disappeared behind the bushes, spade in hand to do the necessary rather than utilise the doorless toilet, and apart from one or two hardened souls everyone skipped the shower and washed out of a plastic bucket. Thus, we ticked the third day off as having no accommodation.

And did I mention no water? About an hour after we arrived and started merrily washing up, filling water bottles and generally splashing around the one single outside tap that had water, it suddenly ran dry without warning. While everyone had a litre or two in their hydration packs to get by on, not having a water supply meant we'd have to skip breakfast and climb back up the chains into the top of the canyon where there were a few pools with drinkable water. This was a bad sign for me, since I'm a breakfast type of guy. I don't do mornings on an empty stomach well.

As always, the best workable attitude on the Naukluft also applied here: We'll wait and see how it goes.

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.

Naukluft #4: Day One: Don't stand in our way!

The Man Behind The Counter at the Naukluft reception said with a deadpan voice, "You're not booked to start tomorrow."

We acted deadpan right back.

Naukluft Hiking Trail #3: It's far. Veeery far.

I believe, as the cliché would have it, that half the fun of going somehere is the journey to get there.  But when you're two and a half days' drive away from one of the toughest hikes in southern Africa, you're focused on the starting line and not intent on taking in to much of the social and physical scenery while getting there.

The road to Naukluft from my beloved metropolis and hometown, Johannesburg, is a long, long 1 700 kilometers of mostly straight-as-an-arrow tar. Perhaps not that straight up to Vryburg, but thereafter it's little more than mind-numbing stretches of savannah. We broke the long, red line on the map first in Upington, checking into a fairly non-descript, formula resort overlooking the Orange River. It was long after nightfall, and we had an early start the next morning - short, blurry stay. Of the few things I recall about it, one is the over-feathered, out-of-place-looking Emu wandering graciously in the garden and curiously poking its beak into my camera lens.

Not really knowing each other, we spent much of the journey to the next stopover in Maltahõhe surreptitiously reading each other, gently pushing emotional and physical boundaries. We didn't become boisterous buddies instantly, but neither were there warning signs of scrappy behaviour or disagreeability. Well, there were. But I was too focused to care. And I suspect so was everyone else. We just rode on.

At Grunau we took a long break, savouring Tafel Lagers and a game of pool in the lounge of the town's lone hotel.

Grunau looks much like a scene from a spaghetti western, a dead-still oasis with a few bored kids wandering along the railway track, and a cock some way off uttering a shrieking crow into the dry, hot air. There's one train a day, the kid I asked said, at one o'clock. That's how they mark time here. That's how they know another day is passing by.

And on we drove, long past sunset.

We were the only guests in the place we stayed over in Maltahõhe. It was a barely existing hotel with sparse, cheap rooms and a bar that was, as expected in barren towns like this, the most homely looking area in the establishment. We continued the introduction routine with a braai, lubricated by a few Windhoeks and a bottle or two of red wine in the company of two aging and overfriendly bull-terriers who clearly enjoyed equally the company and the left-over t-bones. It was way past midnight when we went to bed. The dogs had already retired earlier, unable to keep up with the energy of the city slickers.

By the time we left the next morning to tackle the 200km dirt road to Naukluft I'd summed up everyone, and unlike a few incident-ridden hikes I'd been on during my hiking life it was looking good. All seven my fellow Nauklufters clearly looked and sounded like well-seasoned veterans of the outdoors who'd earned their spurs, so to speak, on treks and hikes all over the world.  In fact, me and Adeline were probably the most inexperienced and least fit of the lot - we'd only ever done a handful of five-day hikes between us. By the time the Landrover and the Mercedes with its stumpy orange trailer slowed down at Naukluft's dusty gate the pecking order was well-established and I felt reasonably confident that we could hold it together.

It felt good to be in the middle of pretty much nowhere and I was looking forward to starting out on the route, even though the steep Naukluft mountains were throwing ominous shadows as we drove on through the deeply carved valley that cuts up to the reception.

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.

Naukluft Hiking Trail #2: Preparation

I knew well in advance you don't tackle the Naukluft with kid gloves. So long before the Big Day of Departure arrived I went to work on prepping the old body, getting good kit, and generally making sure I survive the trip more or less intact.

Eating

I'm a lucky fellow when it comes to hiking cuisine. Adeline went to work on preparing a gourmet menu that  was the envy of everyone during the trip. Every daily portion was designed for optimal weight and nutrition, but most importantly, done to actually taste jolly good under the rather austere circumstances. There were the lunchtime standards such as the John West tuna packs but she steered clear of the cliches such as Toppers and mash. Like, when last did you have gnocchi on a hike? That's the sort of standard and innovation I'm talking about, all packed into a weight of one kilogram.

Sustenance for two, for eight days on the Naukluft. The wine, tins and custard were transported directly to the fourth day. 

Kit
Before we left I retired my 25-year-old, old school Karrimor for an all-mod-cons Osprey. What sold me on this one is the special outside hydration pack pocket which means you don't have to unpack the backpack to get to the hydration pack (I can see you rolling your eyes but hey, I grew up in the eighties).  In retrospect it had its own quirks and shortcomings, but since the days of external aluminium frames and bulky side pockets a few backpack designers have put some time into improving convenience and using plain common sense around design. If you're still carrying the backpack from 1989, do yourself a favour and upgrade. It's the little conveniences and modern inventions that make the difference on a challenging excursion like the Naukluft.

Boots
I hiked in a sturdy pair of Hi-Tecs that had seen a few hikes but still have lots of tread on them. By the end of the hike the soles were coming loose and the rubber was so badly chipped by rock-hopping that I ditched them at the first One Stop on the way back home. On the way one of the laces broke, fortunately a foreseeing fellow hikers helped me out with a spare one. Yes, shoe laces break when you don't expect them to.

Bottom line, you need the very best, worn in but still fresh hiking boots you can find for the Naukluft.

Side note: I replaced the Hi-Tecs with a pair of Keens, expensive but the build looks super and they're really comfy. I'm walking 900km on the Camino de Santiago in them, so the proof is going to be in the pudding, as they say.

Clothes
To keep weight down we stuck to two set of clothing, including thermals, and washed along the way. The nights in mid-June were so cold I had to wear every piece of clothing I had.

We took a few things along that didn't work. We borrowed two fancy inflatable ground sheets that were a waste of time because it's almost impossible to keep them inflated. I might as well have taken the old standard blue foam mattress.  Some things cannot be improved on. One guy brought a lilo along, that might be worth a try next time.

How fit is fit?
I hate exercise. Walking is OK, but you won't catch me pumping iron or looking silly on a treadmill at the local Virgin Active. But after doing one of two test day hikes at Suikerbosrand that proved to be more exhausting than I had hoped, I upped the number of brisk walks around Emmarentia, and a few weeks ahead of departure we hopped up and down the Westcliff steps twice a week. The final prep to test stamina and strength was hiking the rather tough Ribbok Trail in Golden Gate, which didn't go too badly, and that was it. So no, Naukluft isn't just for gym bunnies and muscle men. It's more about being brave and wearing enough sunscreen. And remember, it's not a race. Pace yourself.

The bottom line is, you need to be a hiking pro to make sure you have a good Naukluft hike. You should've experienced a few hard knocks on hikes where you forgot the loo paper, had to sleep in a wet sleeping bag and suffered sunburn - lessons that teach you the essentials of good hike preparation. No amount of reading and watching Youtube videos teaches those simple but essential tricks of the trade.

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.

Naukluft Hiking Trail #1: That Naukluft?

“The Naukluft?”

“Yes, that Naukluft.”

I’d only met the guy I’m talking to a few minutes before, at a gathering of mutual friends, and we started talking about hiking.

He’d raised his eyebrows when I said we’d just completed the Naukluft Hiking Trail in Namibia, one of the toughest in Southern Africa. The one that demands respect, the one that separates the weekend, day pack hikers from the eighty-litre backpackers. The one where you weak knee will finally give in. The one that’ll destroy your Hi-Tecs. The one where you used up all your zinc oxide anti-blister plasters and finished two bottles of Brufin.

That Naukluft, yes. All eight searing days and freezing nights. All of its 120 long up and down kilometers.

In November 2013 a Facebook group started up almost spontaneously among a few disparate hikers, that would form the basis for our group of eight that would, almost eight months later, pile into two cars and head out on a chilly early winter morning from Johannesburg to central Namibia, almost 1 700km or two and a half days’ travel away. Almost no-one in the group knew each other; it would be a make-friends-along-the-way hike which is risky on a demanding trek like Naukluft. But fortunately everyone we met at that first get-together in Fourways were over 35, and avid, experienced hikers.

When I think back now, I shudder when I imagine, what if we had a twenty-something, fresh-faced someone equipped with little else than a 500ml Bonaqua mineral water and a fashionable pair of Nikes along? Perish the thought….

But here's a secret: I hadn't done a decent-length hike in years prior to June 8, 2014. I was turning 53, unfit, and leaning towards boutique hotel bedrooms and fancy apartments when I traveled. So why did I do it? Perhaps to prove something every man in his fifties occasionally wants to do - that he's still young and agile. Or perhaps I wanted to be in a place less traveled. Way less traveled - only a few hundred hikers complete the Naukluft each year, and a substantial amount of those that attempt it fail to complete all eight days.

But, here I am, five months later, a Naukluft veteran, and relatively unscathed. Here’s how it happened.

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.