
Sands of time
A GP climbs Namibia's monumental dunes to photograph one of the earth's most astounding natural treasures
My resolve was weakening -- this was tougher than I'd expected! My wife and I were in Namibia, climbing
Big Daddy, which, at over 350 metres, was reputed to be the highest sand dune on earth. Sunday, our guide, had estimated it would take two to three hours to reach the top. Three hundred and fifty metres may not sound very high, but the ridge seemed narrow, the sand loose and the gradient steep. Now only an hour into the climb, the desert's morning chill had already given way to the sun's fierce heat.
"Namibia -- why would you want to go there?" An American delegate at the IDF 19th World Diabetes Congress in Cape Town, South Africa, had posed this question to me a few days earlier. I might have replied "the Etosha Game Park," one of the best in Africa, or "the Fish River Canyon," second in size and grandeur only to the Grand Canyon, or "the Kalahari Desert," home of the San Bushmen, one of the few remaining hunter/gatherer peoples in existence. But no, for me the attraction was the Namib Desert and the spectacular red dunes that have drawn artists and adventurers from around the world.
This awesome desert landscape is a place of mystery, menace and beauty. It is a desert of superlatives -- the oldest, driest, highest and, with its rust red dunes, surely the most photogenic. It is also home to some of the most uniquely adapted life forms on earth.
Though first attracted to its physical beauty, the more I learned about the Namib Desert the more fascinated I became. The red dunes have their origin in the Drakensberg Mountains of South Africa from where that country's major waterway, the Orange River, gathers massive amounts of silt to be dumped eventually into the Atlantic Ocean. Strong currents carry the sediment north where it is deposited on the mainland of Namibia, accumulating over aeons to form the coastal dunes.
The growing mass of sand has expanded ever farther into the ocean, such that ancient shipwrecks now seem mysteriously engulfed in desert sand, high and dry from shore. Much of this coastal sand is blown inland, and over time has formed the magnificent drifting sand-sea known as the Namib Desert.
Pale yellow, verging on white near the coast, the sand gradually darkens due to the oxidation of traces of iron within it -- first to a shade of apricot, and then, further inland, to the characteristic rust red of the Sossusvlei dunes. Using a small pocket magnet, Sunday was keen to demonstrate iron particles in the sand. Like us, he beamed: the older it is, the rustier it becomes.
All Creatures
Great and Small
Its unlikely origin and stunning beauty are only part of the desert's
intrigue. Wind, the master sculptur of the dunes, is also the source
of the desert's lifeblood -- sea fog. Perhaps the most remarkable
feature of the Namib Desert is the mysterious ocean fog which regularly
blankets the dunes, providing a vital source of moisture to the
desert life that, over millions of years, has adapted to survive
in such a hostile environment.
The Welwitschia mirabilis plant has a peculiar leaf structure that enables it to exist on fog alone for hundreds of years. Small acacia trees, some of which are also hundreds of years old, have root systems that extend over 40 metres. Beetles dig condensation traps and trenches and one even stands on its head to allow droplets to trickle down its back into its mouth.
Namibia's national animal, the oryx, a large, strikingly beautiful antelope, can survive the brutal desert heat without ever having to drink. Its water requirements are met entirely from succulent desert plants and night grazing, when dry desert grasses are heavy with dew. The oryx also have the remarkable ability to tolerate body temperatures greater than 40°C, so have no need to perspire, thus conserving body fluids.
We left the Kulala Desert Lodge, our base on the outskirts of the Namib Naukluft Park, some time before sunrise so we could catch the best light on the dunes at Sossusvlei -- an area regarded as the jewel of the Namib Desert and home to Big Daddy. Long ago, Sossusvlei (which literally means "marsh of the river that has no mouth") was an area through which the Tsauchab River's seasonal floodwaters flowed to the Atlantic Ocean.
Massive dunes have blocked the river's path so that today Sossusvlei is essentially a vast expanse of high dunes dotted with dried-up clay flats. These areas are parched, except after exceptionally heavy rains which may bring down sufficient floodwaters to penetrate the dune area and fill the plains with lakes.
The Art of
Survival
Little in my experience can compare to sunrise on the Namib Desert.
The visual poetry of shade, light and line, alongside the sensuality
and perfection of the gentle dune curves carved by the interplay
of wind and light, combine together to create a masterpiece of overwhelming
beauty. It is a scene both stunning and humbling.
Andrew Farquhar is a family physician working in Kelowna, BC. He has previously worked in Australia and the Arctic. An experienced photographer, Farquhar's work has been published in PhotoLife magazine and on the cover of a Canadian Geographic calendar. He is smitten with deserts and has visited the Sahara in Egypt, the Lamu Sand Dunes in Kenya, the desert landscape of Fuerte Ventura in the Canary Islands. He has just returned from a trip to the Sahara in Morocco.
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