SKYDIVING IN NAMIBIA!

We drove for 3 full days in Namibia passing only 2-3 towns, each with a population of less than 10, and all of them German.   Where are all the natives in this vast, empty land?

On its east coast, Namibia is home to the world’s oldest, driest desert in the world as well as the Kalahari, in the west, a semi-arid desert,  which is covered with trees and criss-crossed by ephemeral rivers and fossil watercourses.   Namibia’s clear blue skies stretch out as far as the eye can see into the open horizons and has one of the lowest population densities on the planet -  318,500 square miles (825,000 sq. km)  shared by only 2.1 million people – or 1/10  sq. mile per person – lots of elbow room for the ancestors of the German colonials who occupied the country in the late 1880’s.  The Afrikaans invaded the country at Britian’s urging after World War I, then known as South-West Africa, and proceeded to claim all of its valuable diamond and mineral mines, including uranium, as its own.   Apartheid was official policy here until 1990 when, with the help of Cuban and Angolan rebels, including Che Guevera, Namibia finally achieved independence.

Day 3 in country we rose at 5 am to witness sunrise over the red sand dunes and the nearby “sussevlei.”   The dunes, all of which are numbered, (we visited Dune 45, reknowned for its perfect viewing position), rise as high as 1,000 feet (300 meters) and extend to the Atlantic Coast.  The sand is extremely fine grained, deep rust red and undulate for miles, their varying heights hiding the horizon.  We climbed along the ridge of the dune, which is easier than climbing from the side.  But easy, it was not.  The sand is thick and heavy and I sunk up to my ankles.   Each time I stepped forward I had to remove a foot from below the sandy surface.   I finally realized that if I walked fast enough into the footsteps of the person in front of me the sand was more compact and easier to navigate (hadn’t MJ told us that before we started out?).   During the 20 -30 minutes it took to reach the summit, I had to stop several times to catch my breath.   I hope that the photos, posted at the link above, capture just a small fraction of the studpendous panorama that we discovered when the sun poked its brilliance out from behind the distant dune.

Mark dragged his foot like a heavy weight the whole way and reached the summit with the rest of us.    No help (pretend or otherwise) needed.  (See below post for explanation.)

Hungry for breakfast, we ran down the side of the steep dune, enjoying the warmth of the sand on our feet, falling and rolling most of the way to the bottom, where eggs and bacon awaited our arrival.

Next, we walked about 15 minutes to the “Soussevlei.”   A combination of both Namib and German words, meaning “dead lake.”  Once, about 900 years ago, there was a lake with trees here, fed by a nearby river.   The slow but steady enlargement of the dunes blocked the river from feeding the lake, drying it up completely and killing the trees.   Only their trunks and branches remain, slowly petrifying in the dry desert air.   We had no idea what to expect.   It was unique; a sight we had never seen.   Other-worldly. 

On Wednesday morning we pulled into Swakopmund, “Adrenaline Capital of Southern Africa.”   Just 2 hours later we were quad biking on the sand dunes, riding their crests and valleys, twisting and turning with the land.  Once I learned to trust the bike, I ran at full-throttle and the 3-hour trip ended with me wanting more.

The City of Swakopmund is a strange place.   A combination of German colonial buildings and vacation homes,  the architecture of both and the prevalence of the German and Afrikaans languages and people, are completely out of sync with the surrounding desert and its location on the African continent.   Its claim to fame is that it is the location of  the birth of Shiloh, Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt's baby as well as its designation as Namibia's second largest city, after the capital, Windhoek.  It is modern, clean, well-stocked and full of people – 20,000!   This is the first significant center of population we’ve seen since leaving Cape Town 5 days ago.  

I had heard since last year that the thing to do here was to skydive over the desert.   I was determined not to.   The risk far outweighed the benefit.   But I couldn’t help myself.   I signed my life away and off we went.

We were driven to the center of nowhere, about 15 minutes outside of town.   We knew we had arrived when we saw the plane -  a zebra, polka-dotted, single engine, Red Baron thing, with no door,  that looked like a relic from World War II.   Once the 5-minute briefing was over, I donned the jumpsuit, and was chosen to be the first to jump (It must have been the “B” in Bernstein – I should have registered under my maiden name – “Waldman").  

We jumped tandem  with professionals who have a well-known reputation for safety and skill.  As I climbed into the plane with “Jack,” I was suddenly not at all nervous, although I hadn’t slept the night before and was praying for bad weather so that the jump would be postponed.   He had a way of making me feel relaxed and comfortable.   As we climbed to jump altitude (10,000 feet – 3,000 meters) I relished the view from the open door.  It was simply stunning.    Except for Swakopmund  (named for the Swakop River which empties into the Atlantic at the southern end of the Town), all I could see were sand dunes - thousands and thousands of sand dunes -  stopping only when they met the coast, swelling, heaving, surging, undulating as far as the eye could see, then quickly flattening out as we climbed higher and higher.  

When it was time to jump, my jacket was attached to Jack's and I sat in front of him, between his legs, with our feet dangling outside the plane.    I think he pushed.   All I know is that we were suddenly airborne.   I saw the plane disappear into a tiny speck above me as I felt the adrenal rush of 35 seconds of freefall – 185 miles per hour – with total clarity, vision and calm.   Once the chute opened it was as if I was floating through air, breathing effortlessly as I swam in a cool, calm lake  for the remaining 7 minutes of flight.  The landing was painless and easy, and the Group and Yosy had seen everything from down below.   They all cheered as I touched down.  It was time for Victim # 2 to make his way to the plane.

But I was still flying.