A real honest-to-goodness African safari should not really involve a cheesy, khaki-clad guide with a microphone standing at the front of an air-conditioned bus packed with tourists. You get the picture, right? Big crowds with big lenses, bum bags, socks, sandals, faces squashed against windows and an overwhelming scent of sweat. The commentary is as choreographed as a stage ballet, and the whole experience feels about as wild and spontaneous as the Pope’s inauguration.

A safari (the Swahili word for journey) is not just about ticking off the big five, lounging around in luxury lodges and watching costumed and choreographed Zulus dance about in the lobby.  In my humble opinion, there should be at least a whiff of Livingstonian adventure about it.



The real Africa does still exist, especially in the wide, open spaces of Namibia where nature is still red in tooth and claw. But one must possess a certain quality of steely nerve before taking up the challenge of a self-guided off-road camping trip but, regrettably, my nerves are not made from steel. They’re more like guacamole.

Recently, though, I learned of a relatively new idea in Southern Africa called ‘small group self-drive guided safaris’, a revolutionary tour concept which permits the client to drive his or her own 4x4 (or a rental) across the potentially hazardous wilderness without having to fear the aftermath of their own ineptitude.

Such concerns as ‘Why has my engine just blown up?’, ‘How does one fend off a lion?’ and ‘Which way is north?’ all become superfluous due to the fact that a burly African expert is always relatively close at hand to help you out when you go wrong. He points the way, answers the radio, watches for lions, sets up tents and changes tyres (bless his little khaki socks).



And so, emboldened by bravado, I signed up and, within a week, found myself trundling across the huge open spaces of Namibia in a five-car convoy. This was indeed the Africa of my dreams. Lions stared with malcontent, sand dunes soared ominously, and elephants trumpeted and flapped their ears at me as I drove by. I was as happy as a clam knowing that John van Den Berg (the convoy guide) was never far away to rescue me should anything go pear-shaped.

I have never seen such stark and awesome openness as that which Namibia possesses. Horizons bend with the earth’s curvature, hazy at the seams with a Martian-coloured dust.

Although I was not truly alone out there in the wilderness, I felt alone and, dare I say, intrepid. John was always about a kilometre ahead, while the other vehicles were spaced apart as to give the impression that Namibia and all of her scenery and animals existed solely for my pleasure. There were no tourists, no traffic, no buildings, and no cell phone reception - just miles of open countryside, dirt tracks and the occasional elephant, ostrich or oryx.



The other cars in my convoy were driven by a variety of folk who, like me, wanted to experience untamed Africa but didn’t quite know how. Joan and Vivienne Saycell, a sibling pair of wrinkled blue-rinsers from South Africa, barely knew how to change gear on their 4X4, let alone use a GPS or sand ladders. Yet, as a group, we attacked steep and sandy roads which were little more than strips of strewn boulders.

Predictably, we suffered flat tyres and the lovely old ladies, whilst chattering like turkeys, went off the road on more than one occasion. We spent many a day and ate many a mile in the great Namib Desert, which is a deathly dry yet serene moonscape that skirts Namibia’s western seaboard. Rain rarely falls and life would not exist at all were it not for the regular sea fogs that roll in from the Atlantic.

I stopped frequently to get out of my car to examine the finer details of a world that looked dead until I took a much closer look. Only then did I begin to see the tiny little succulent plants covering the ground, and the insects and lizards that scuttled underneath them.



Larger animals, such as Cape fur seals, cluster along the coast in their thousands. They heave and flap and bark like dogs, lending their overpowering aroma to the salty desert air. Wiry jackals dart amongst their shimmering bodies, while hyenas slink and steal a baby or two from right under their noses.

Shipwrecks litter this thousand-mile strip of emptiness due to the sea’s ferocity but those unfortunate souls who survived drowning usually died of thirst. It’s not called the Skeleton Coast for nothing. The name Namibia actually means ‘land of open spaces’, and it’s easy to see why. After Mongolia, it is the least densely populated country on earth.

Despite its arid nature, Namibia is home to a surprising diversity of big game animals which somehow manage to eke out an existence from the dry and sandy earth. The black rhino, my very favourite animal, lives among their ranks. At an impressionable young age, I met one at a zoo and was henceforth changed.

“They almost vanished completely because of poaching, you know,” John told me after I’d informed him of my ardent wish to see one. As usual, we were sitting around a blazing campfire with the stars up above and the sound of lions copulating noisily some distance away.

It’s a mean world out there in the African bush, and I felt incredibly grateful for the flickering flames.



“Rhino populations are slowly recovering, though, especially here in Namibia, because private game reserves have found it profitable to protect them. Tourists want to see rhino, and that will only happen if the animal itself becomes more valuable alive than dead. However, although they are not as critically endangered as they were a few years back, your chances of seeing one are still pretty slim,” John said.

It was my last night in Africa and, so with a heavy heart, I sauntered from my tent to check out the waterhole. Perhaps I would see lions nibbling on a zebra, I thought. But instead of carnivores, I found my rhino, five of them to be precise, gathered around the wallow, snorting and splashing like children at play. For a while, I was alone, with the stars, and the rhino and what felt like the whole of Southern Africa performing just for me. Now that’s something you certainly won’t get from inside a bus.

Travel Facts

getting there

• South Africa Airways flies from Sydney to Namibia’s capital Windhoek via Johannesburg. Call 1800 221 699 or visit www.flysaa.com
• gettingaround
• Bhejane 4x4 Adventures conducts self-drive safaris all over Southern Africa. Accommodation is included and they can arrange hire of an appropriate 4WD vehicle for you. Call  +27 0 44 535 9257 or visit www.bhejane4x4adventures.com
• If self-guided 4WD touring is not for you, there are many excellent tour companies offering trips to Namibia. Contact Wildlife Safari on 1800 998 558 or visit www.wildlifesafari.com.au
• Intrepid on 1300 364 512 or visit www.intrepidtravel.com or Bench International on 1800 221 451 or visit www.benchinternational.com.au

tip

• Namibia is a fairly safe country to travel around independently. However, if you plan on doing any serious back road exploration, you need to be seriously equipped for all eventualities. This means having at least two vehicles in a convoy and being equipped for self-sufficiency should you suffer a breakdown.

further information

• Contact the Namibia Tourism Board on +264 61 290 6000 or visit www.namibiatourism.com.na