Swakopmund and the Living Desert Experience | Day 4 Part 1

The cold wind slaps of the Atlantic surf one feels as he ventures boldly down the infamous Swakopmund Jetty is 'awakening' to say the least. Especially if one has no reservation at the Jetty 1905 Restaurant, which we didn't. The fear of being turfed back on the jetty from whence we came and make the dreaded sojourn back into town to find another eatery, was more bone-chilling than the thought of not being fed.

Luckily, they had a table for two, and right by the northern point of the long oblong restaurant which provided an unspoilt panorama of the picturesque yet merciless Atlantic. Cape Cormorants (or Cape Shags) busied and jostled for position up and down the pier. With floor to ceiling windows that encapsulated the entire restaurant, our view of these Cormorants, endemic to the southwestern coasts of Africa, were unobstructed. Unfortunately I didn't get any snaps from inside the restaurant, but a great deal of history on the jetty and its numerous renovations can be found on the website here.

We dined here twice over the course of our stay, and although I forget the names of the wines we ordered, I cannot forget the grilled Kinglip fish that I had, paired of course with a heroic serving of chips and mushy peas. It does make me sad as an Englishman that so many other countries can out perform us on the world stage when it comes to making our staple dish. Much like when any country outside the Commonwealth beat us handsomely at Cricket, or the exploits of one Ethan Hunt becomes a more riveting watch than that of our very own James Bond.

We stayed at the Swakopmund Sands Hotel, which disappointingly refused to serve us nightcaps at 8.29pm. A full minute before they officially closed the bar at 8.30pm. Being guests at the hotel did not carry any sway with the staff, who could not be placated. The 'warm' Namibian hospitality billed on the inventory is certainly left wanting at the Sands Hotel.

Morning. I drank at least 5 large flutes of sparkling wine at the breakfast bar as recompense for last night's fractious encounter before we headed out for our Living Desert Experience across the Namib.

Our first stop was the horse's boneyard. During World War One it was the South Africans who came to Namibia by horse to relieve the Germans of their occupation. Soon their transport would be invalided by the most cruel of untreatable diseases known locally as lockjaw. The horses jaws would lock shut which prevented them from eating or drinking. The entire herd were shot and buried here in a now-exposed trench at the foot of the dunes. Lockjaw transferred to humans and parents were forced to smash out the front teeth of their children. Some still do today as part of their culture.

Arnold, our new guide for this experience, plucked out a Sidewinder Snake from a bush to show us. Sidewinder has two kinds of venom, Neuro venom and Cider venom, the combination of which there is no anti-venom. Whilst no one has died from being bit by a Sidewinder Snake, the pain is said to be excruciating. His colleague got bit by showing a Sidewinder Snake to a couple of tourists, and was in agony for ten days.

Arnold released the snake and it scampered across the desert floor causing one gentleman to leap out of his skin hysterically, even though he was several feet away.

We returned to the truck and Arnold informed us he was on the trail of a Namaqua Chameleon, and sure enough, a few dunes north and a short walk, Arnold had picked up his trail. Once Arnold has found his specimens, he cries across for us to join him, but we're told it's imperative we follow his footsteps. There are snakes and scorpions in the living desert, and by following Arnold's footsteps we can negate the risk of treading on one.

I was so pleased, although desperately needing a piss after my morning's consumption of sparkling wine, to see the Namaqua Chameleon. He was darker than I expected. A beetle out on a morning stroll took a small canter downhill right into the path of the Chameleon who sucked in the beetle with a snap of its tongue. A huge cheer erupted. "Breakfast is served," Arnold joked. The Chameleon swung its head side to side as it chomped down, and the crunch-crunch of the beetle's back snapping in the Chameleon's mouth was as loud as a small child greedily eating a bag of crisps. It was the perfect end to the tour.