Along the way we had been chal-
lenged to a race; the ostriches were a
little too quick for us.
Arriving at the Keetmanshoop farm
stay, again found through Airbnb
that had surprised us with the variety
of accommodation options though
Africa, the owners told us they had to
go Johannesburg and the house was
ours, it even came with a young lady
who came over to cook the evening
meals for us despite the power going
out forcing her to cook over a single
gas ring. She did a great job by can-
dlelight.
With 240 kilometres of dirt and
corrugations in front of us, the great
sand dunes of Sossusvlei were our
next destination. The scenery along
the way more than made up for the
condition of the road.
Harvey, the owner of the Barking
Gecko B&B, our next nights accom-
modation, gave me a 4x4 tour of his
property, even showing off his satel-
lite dish mounted on a wooden pole
giving him access to internet, even
right out of here, and of course using
fibre optic cable.
We departed early the following
morning for the famous sand dunes
before the heat of the day took hold.
In the past motorcyclists had ridden
all over the dunes so we were turned
away at the gates to the National
Park. We went to a nearby resort and
enquired about a ride but no luck,
other tourists didn’t have room for us
in their cars and most had left to beat
the heat.
A National Park ranger offered to
take us in for a fee. We struck a deal
and off we went with the two of us
crammed onto the passenger seat.
The dunes are enormous and a
beautiful colour in the morning light.
We had lunch and wandered about,
walking from one to another, trying
to climb the tallest visible one, yet
you soon see that they stretch on well
into the distance.
The following day we had 400
kilometres to ride, all on dirt, to Wal-
vis Bay. Stopping halfway at a game
lodge we found that they proceeded
to upgrade our room at no extra
charge.
“That’s great,” I mentioned before
a tourist then told me that the road
gets rough from here on. And they
were right.
The road was rough, especially
two-up and loaded. I criss-crossed
the road trying to find the best line
and avoid the potholes and sand.
We came across a young Bel-
gian guy riding a pushbike and we
stopped to give him some water and
muesli bars as he’d been living on
dry breakfast muesli. He told me
he’d underestimated the condition of
the road and it had taken him longer
than he expected. Tell me about it!
After crossing the Tropic of Capri-
corn and having now travelled from
the East coast to the West, we arrived
in Walvis Bay, to discover not much
around. KFC would have to do before
a quick ride down to Swakopmund
and our accommodation.
The town was very quiet; Swakop-
mund was out of tourist season. The
busiest time is generally summer;
the beach and sand dunes the main
attraction. We took the opportunity
to stay three days, cooking ourselves
nice meals, wash clothes, and go
over the bike, as the last few days had
been rough.
I rode down to the carwash; noth-
ing more than a guy with a high-pres-
sure cleaner standing on a concrete
slab, that was it.
“No charge,” he exclaimed as he
gave the bike a good spray. “You’re
from Australia.”
The local Yamaha dealer said the
same as I purchased a nut and bolt
that had rattled off somewhere along
the way. I wondered if we went to a
restaurant that they would say the
same.
Looking outside at the clear blue
sky, the temperature around 25 de-
grees Celsius, I wondered what the
lady in the Yamaha shop was talking
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