Rocky's Ride Detailed Travel Log Day 13: 15/08/24 Werelds End - Betta 49.19 km The parallels between my journey and Henno Martin’s The Sheltering Desert were becoming increasingly clear, especially after yesterday's experience with the wind and sand. Like Henno and Hermann, I’ve had to accept that nature dictates the pace. Isetta had warned me about the brutal August headwinds, just as Henno observed the relentless forces of nature during their time in the wild. I enjoyed breakfast with my new french friends but left about an hour before them. It would have been good to ride together but as my setup was far heavier I knew they would catch up with me eventually. I was starting to adapt to the rhythms of the desert. I noticed the desert wind would lie still just before sunrise and as the sun peeked over the horizon it would slowly pick up. So earlier starts were always best . Isetta had offered me a lift for some of today's mileage as she indicated the road would be incredibly tough until Betta. The generosity was appreciated but as she had walked the Camino, she understood the challenge of trying to complete the journey on my own power. Two road signs overstated the obvious—“Wind” and “Sand”— they were daily reminders of the desert’s control, not just for me but for anyone who traverses it. A few hours into our ride, Rocky and I had a thrilling encounter with a trio of Gemsbok, running ahead of us for several kilometres. They were caught on the roadside of the game fence, and as we approached, they’d dash ahead a few hundred metres, only to stop and wait, as if inviting us into their game of tag. This wild dance went on for quite some time. Otto, Henno Martin and Hermann Korn’s loyal companion in The Sheltering Desert, had a similar instinct for chasing wild animals. On two occasions, Otto chased after Gemsbok and ended up skewered by their long horns. Fortunately, he survived the mishaps but was badly injured. Rocky, meanwhile, was bristling with excitement in his basket, itching to chase after the Gemsbok. I had to hold him back, keeping him from leaping out—saving him from potentially ending up like poor Otto. Our game of tag quickly turned into a disaster. A road grader approached from the opposite direction, and the three Oryx, feeling trapped, tried to leap over the fence. The problem was the jackal-proofing wire running along the base—a mesh designed to stop jackals from squeezing through and reinforced at the bottom to prevent animals from digging under. Two of the antelopes cleared the fence, but the third got tangled in the wire and struggled desperately to free itself. I parked my bike on the other side of the road and secured Rocky to a fence post—this was no place for him to get involved. With Rocky yapping non-stop, I asked the two grader operators for help. Approaching cautiously, I used a small pair of pliers from my toolkit to cut through the wire. After some effort, we managed to free the trapped oryx. But he didn’t get up immediately. There was blood in his mouth and a deep gash on his leg. I feared the worst, thinking we might need to put him down to save him from a slow death by predators or bleeding out. I asked one of the operators to hold the oryx’s horns while I reached for my knife—dreading the task but knowing it might be the kindest option. Thankfully, after a few tense moments, the grader operator gave the animal a firm slap on the rear, and to our relief, the injured oryx sprang to its feet and bolted. I was immensely relieved that we didn’t have to euthanize him. Later, I learned that this is a common issue in Namibia—wildlife often gets caught in the fencing, leading to frequent incidents like this. Today, I met a group of cyclists tackling an impressive 900 km charity challenge from Noordoewer to Sossusvlei in just 9 days. They were full of energy, and it was great to chat with them as we crossed paths—me heading south, and them going north. Their support vehicles trailed a few kilometres behind, ensuring they had everything they needed. They were kind enough to fill up my water bottles, which was a real blessing in the desert heat! While enjoying the sensation of walking barefoot in the sand near my cattle trough on day nine, I stepped on a piece of wire. What started as a small injury had gotten worse..As it was directly above my cleat, the pressure of pedalling was really starting to get uncomfortably. Definitely in need of some medical attention and with no fancy tools on hand, I improvised and used a large white thorn from a camel thorn tree as my surgical instrument. After removing my shoe and sock, I performed some bush surgery. As soon as I pierced the skin, yellow pus erupted, instantly relieving some of the pressure. I prodded around to ensure there was nothing lodged inside and then applied antiseptic cream to reduce the infection. Just as I was wrapping things up, the French cyclists finally caught up with me. Their gravel bikes with skinny tires were no match for the deep desert sand. Yang and I decided to swap bikes for a bit, and it was immediately clear that the wider tires on my mountain bike were much better suited for this terrain, even with the heavier load. However, when we hit patches of hard-packed gravel, their bikes picked up speed almost effortlessly. If you’re planning to cross Namibia, I highly recommend using tires with a width of at least 2.35 inches. Gravel bikes this far into the Namib will only slow you down! It was good to have a bit of company on the road. Also sitting behind Stephan to break the headwind definitely helped lift my spirits even more but my fat tyres proved more efficient on the sandy road and I floated over the sand while they struggled to make any headway. We stopped at the small tourist hub of Betta, a popular stop for travellers exploring the Namib Desert. Nestled at the crossroads between the routes from Maltahöhe, Helmeringhausen, and Sesriem, it serves as a refreshing oasis in the spartan desert environment. Betta offers essential amenities including a fuel station, a small shop, and cosy accommodations. I wanted to continue with my new friends but decided to enjoy the facilities and ended up staying two nights. I was a bit nervous when a big black dog came sniffing around Rocky. The staff warned me he might be a bit temperamental, which didn't help my nerves as I tried to relax and enjoy my multiple pies, filter coffee, and cool drinks. Eventually, I asked them to lock the brute away so we could eat in peace. But it turned out he was just a gentle giant, and when I wasn’t looking, he and Rocky had already worked out their own sniff-and-greet routine! I bid my French friends farewell and checked into my room. After a few rugged days in the desert, there’s nothing like the pure bliss of lying in a clean bed after a refreshing shower. Though the water was cold, I didn’t mind—it’s only heated in the evenings upon request. The place uses a traditional “donkey” water heater, a simple yet reliable system perfect for rural areas. A metal drum sits on a brick base with an open firebox underneath. You light a fire using wood or coal, and the heat warms the water in the tank, which then flows to taps or showers. It’s low-tech but incredibly effective. At dinner time I soon struck up a conversation with Liv Originally from Norway and her Australian husband John. John, at 74, was made for the bush and was a geologist by trade. Prior to covid he had done some prospecting in Namibia and was eager to visit the country again. We very quickly became friends and he shared some of his gold hunting exploits with me. Rocky's Ride Detailed Travel Log Day 14: 16/08/24 Betta- Rest Day The following morning , after dropping my trailer hitch for some welding repairs at the local workshop, I joined John the Geologist on an impromptu adventure. John wanted to head for the hills and do some sketching. Not one to miss an opportunity for a side adventure, I joined him on his mission and off to the hills we headed in his rented 4x4. We came across a locked gate, on the small Kopjie we saw the farmer headed our way. We decided to wait and ask their permission to enter their land so he could sketch the hills. We were greeted by Martin and Bettina Günther and their pack of friendly dogs. They told us to wait 10 minutes and they would be back to show us where to go. While we waited John showed me his collection of rocks and explained their geological significance . The sodalite sample from Namibia's Kunene region radiates a vivid, deep cobalt blue that evokes the expansive skies and rugged landscapes of the Namib Desert, making each stone uniquely captivating. Sodalite is primarily used in jewellery and ornamental carvings due to its striking blue colour. It's also popular for crafting decorative items such as vases, spheres, and figurines. John described a fascinating quartz vug he found in the Ekendeka region, comparing the natural formations inside the cavity to the image of an African Sangoma, with crystal shapes resembling a skull staring back at you. The intricate, hollow structure of the vug, lined with shimmering quartz, seemed to evoke the spiritual presence of a healer communing with ancestral spirits. It was a powerful and haunting interpretation, one that added a deeper cultural and symbolic dimension to the raw beauty of the Namibian landscape It wasn’t long before Martin and Bettina returned, generously inviting us to their home for a cup of freshly brewed filter coffee. The hospitality, offered so freely by complete strangers, was truly incredible. As we sat, they shared stories of their lives and operations. Both had grown up speaking three languages—German, English, and Afrikaans—and were deeply familiar with hunting and farm life from an early age. They now live on a vast 13,832-acre hunting farm, Alt Duwisib, where they not only hunt but also raise cattle and horses. Martin, with his thick German accent, explained their philosophy of conservation through hunting. The income generated by foreign hunters enables them to preserve the land and create conditions for wildlife to thrive. Their operation is designed for true adventure enthusiasts, where hunting trophies are not guaranteed. Hunters are taken deep into the bush, where they may walk for days without success, and must also skin and prepare the meat themselves. During our visit, Martin was in the midst of preparing a "spiked" meal for the local baboons. A troop had been monopolising the food he left for other wildlife. To humanely deter them, he filled a 5-litre tub with mielies and oats, adding a hefty amount of local gin. His plan was to get the baboons drunk, hoping they would experience a terrible hangover and avoid returning. When I followed up with them a few weeks later, it turned out the plan had worked—keeping the baboons away from the feeding spots as hoped. Their hospitality knew no bounds. After enjoying our coffee, we were treated to a two-hour game drive followed by a nature walk. Sitting in the back of their Land Cruiser with Rocky on my lap, surrounded by a pack of happy dogs, we were truly in our element. Martin shared his local bush knowledge, pointing out klipspringers and springbok along the way. The road we travelled was once an ox wagon trail from the early 1900s, and the remnants of an old well in a dry riverbed served as a testament to the grit and resilience of those who came before us, having been dug by hand. We hiked up a sandy riverbed to a dry waterfall that, apparently after heavy rains, transforms into a spectacular sight filled with pools and abundant wildlife. After our walk, their four dogs and Rocky enjoyed a refreshing swim in a cattle trough to cool down. It was a remarkable day filled with genuine Namibian hospitality that I will always cherish. That night I enjoyed a lovely braai with John and his wife at their chalet. Liv had been battling with the flu and had been in bed for two days. I would be sad to see them go as John and I had established a good repertoire.