We catch the sunrise at Deadvlei, then explore Sossusvlei and finally leave the park for the Tsauchab River Lodge
I really thought I would be one of the first people to get to Deadvlei this morning. We were on the road by 5:40 but as we’re letting air out of our tires in the main Sossusvlei parking lot, we watch as several trucks speed past us and on to the sandy 4×4 road. Damn. The sky is already brightening and I feel like I just lost a race.
Eventually we get ourselves moving, bumping and chuffing our way 5 kilometers to the 4×4 parking lot. I’m already on the trail before Earl can get his gear together; this is an urgent mission.
My boots quickly fill with sand, one of life’s most annoying sensations. At a fork in the trail I pause to catch my breath. To my left is the path up Big Daddy Dune and I can see a line of people marching single file on the ridge. To my right, the trail is empty. Yes! I’ve clearly made the correct decision to beeline toward Deadvlei, and it’s also conveniently not located at the top of a big-ass sand mountain.
In less than 10 minutes I’m standing on a low dune overlooking Deadvlei. How can I explain what this feels like? It’s not just the incredible landscape in front of me but a feeling of pride and amazement in myself.
I must have been 13 years old when I first saw photos of Deadvlei in National Geographic magazine – a place so remote and wildly alien that it was hard to believe that it could exist outside the photos on the page. I never forgot those photos and now, somehow, here I am.
Deadvlei, meaning dead marsh, is a flat expanse of tessellated white clay pan dotted with dead Camel Thorn trees. Towering orange dunes surround the pan. The Tsauchab River flowed here over 900 years ago, but the climate changed. Water stopped flowing into the marsh and the trees died. Now, almost a thousand years later, the trees still stand, preserved by the dry air.
Above all else, the quality of light determines the mood here. Before the sun rises over the dunes, the light is flat. Everything is covered in shadow and cool air pools in the clay pan. You need to be here before the sun rises all the way above Big Daddy Dune to see this dramatic shadowscape. The trees stand out black against Big Mama Dune. The sky is a deep blue before washing out with the sun.
Slowly, a band of sunlight moves down Big Mama Dune, changing it from rust to bright orange. Even when the entire dune is bathed in bright light, the pan is still in shadow. The light’s moving fast now, but for a little while the black trees stand out in almost cartoonish contrast against the glowing dune.
When the sun enters the pan it shines golden on the trees. Now you can see the detail in the bark as the tree skeletons glow in the morning light.
High above on Big Daddy Dune, some ant-like figures are finally at the very top, shouting and whooping. One by one, they start to run down the dune to the pan. It took them almost an hour to climb up and less than two minutes to fly down.
Eventually a few dozen people are in the pan, chattering and posing for photos. I find Earl and we watch people arrive, enjoying the delight on their faces.
By 10 am we’re ready to go. On the way out we pass dozens of hikers making their way in and starting their climb up Big Daddy Dune in the increasing heat.
Instead of driving out of the park right away, we walk over to the Sossusvlei pan which is totally abandoned. It’s larger than Deadvlei but still has enough water underground to sustain more greenery. There are a couple of huge living Camel Thorn trees, !Nara melons, and wildflowers. It’s not as striking, but having it to ourselves is pretty spectacular.
In the sand we find thousands of tracks made by all the insects and small animals that roamed the dunes the night before. Then we rest for a while under the shade of a giant camel thorn tree blooming with little yellow pom-pom flowers.
We finally drive the 4×4 road back to the pavement, which is a hell of a lot of fun. In low gear we dip and dive through the deep sand while our seat belts struggle to keep us from flying around the cabin.
By this time, it’s around noon and the sun is blazingly offensive. Once we get to the 2×4 parking lot I chuck my boots in the back and free my feet from their horrible sandy prison. Earl fills our tires back up. I dig a soda out of the fridge and hang my arm out the window as we drive the 60 kilometers to the park exit.
It was only an hour’s drive to our next overnight stay, the Tsauchab River Lodge. This place was a mixed bag for us.
It’s a beautiful and quirky place for sure – filled with tons of found-object sculpture. Think old ovens and rusty tea kettles turned into pigs, boots hanging from trees, mannequin heads placed in rusted out truck bodies.
They have a beautiful 4×4 road that leads up the hill for a fantastic view of the valley below.
And best of all, two tame springboks live on the grounds and approach guests for pets.
But dinner was awkward – three couples dined in large, silent dining room. We all spoke in whispers – too scared to disturb the quiet. Then we were served by a woman I’d describe as despondent, which was honestly concerning to me. (Was she OK? Do they treat her well here? Can’t they put some music on during dinner so it’s not like dining in a graveyard?)
The dinner itself, however, was delicious! Grilled zebra and vegetables with rice.
Then it turned out we had a bit of a booking SNAFU. I reserved a room via Expedia called “Guides Room” which I (maybe stupidly) thought was just the name of a guest room, but it turned out to be the small room in a building next to a barn full of cats and behind the braai – they offer it as a low cost option for tour guides traveling with groups. When we checked in they gave us the option to pay for an upgrade, but for $99 a night, the Guides Room was fine by me.
So I’m not sure what to make of this place. I’m still thinking about that sad woman over a year later. Are you ok? But I wouldn’t mind hanging out with the springboks again.
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