DUNE

I think what I like about a desert is the contrast. On the one hand there’s the fundamental hostility of the environment, never more apparent than at midday when the heat of day hits like an anvil. On the other, there is the supreme stillness and spectacular beauty at the day’s margins. Nowhere have I experienced this more acutely than in the Namib desert.

This particular desert encompasses a vast stretch of western Namibia. From the centre of the country’s coast, where just inland you find Sossusvlei, right up to the border with Angola where the desert abruptly ends at the improbably green ribbon of the Kunene River which serves as the frontier between the two countries. 

It’s such a varied landscape. The vast expanses of rolling sand dunes are broken up by dry river beds and  jagged peaks. The scale of the area we’re talking about has to be seen to be believed and particularly when seen from the air, the colours and textures truly beggar belief. 

The time that I like best is sunset, when the low hanging sun gives the sand a golden hue. The breeze will abruptly drop and the plunge in temperature means that any dust in the air falls to the ground,  and so as the light fades the scene before you is rendered in radical clarity. 

The stillness I mentioned earlier isn’t just quiet, it’s a palpable absence of noise (maybe that’s a distinction without a difference but it’s exactly how it feels). Your ears strain to hear… anything… and in so doing you have to turn the volume all the way down on the background hum of your mind. It’s rare to have the opportunity to let your mind  just float and be totally present.  I suppose it’s as close as someone like me gets to a religious experience but I find it’s this aspect of the desert’s stillness that compels me to return – every chance I get.