If you have time (early morning is the best) follow the faint track that goes downstream from the main parking lot.

The big boys
You don’t quite appreciate the size of a dune until you have climbed it. This morning, at the
well-known Dune 45, I sat out. It’s not that I was lazy, but there were already 100 people on the
dune, traipsing up the spine before the sun had even touched it for the first time. Yes, when there are a couple of overlander trucks at the Sesriem campsite, the peace and quiet you might have come to expect of the Namib is suddenly diluted.

But Dune 45 is kind of like the Big Tree at Tsitsikamma – there are many other big trees, but people stop at the Big Tree because there’s a signboard, a picnic place and a path. Similarly, there are many other big dunes, some even bigger than Dune 45. I only find this out on my last day here, but unlike in South African national parks you are allowed to get out of your vehicle here at Sossusvlei. Anywhere. There are no lions, so it’s safe.Your vehicle may not leave the road, for sure, but you may. So you can stop and strike out for the nearest dune. You’re guaranteed to have it to yourself.

Monique and I are halfway up one of the dunes directly behind Sossusvlei. There was a guy here moments ago, playing the harmonica on top of the dune. But now he’s disappeared. Where to? Was he a mirage? There are no trees behind which to hide. Maybe the yawning sands swallowed him.

Little beetles scurry past us as if we’re stationary. Uphill and downhill are the same to them. Our tread is slow and heavy. We rest. Rest again. Twenty minutes later we reach the crest. Sam is way down below. To our left is !Nara Vlei and Cessna Pan. Below us is Sossusvlei’s last boep, where the Tsauchab River’s floodwaters sometimes come to a final stop. The last really big flood was in 1997, when the water was 2 m deep over where the picnic tables stand. In the distance rises Crazy
Dune, the one that towers 200 m above Dead Vlei’s floor. Even further is Witberg – rock, not sand. Just 55 km beyond Witberg, as the crow flies, lies the sea. Dune 7, further back towards Sesriem, is regarded as the highest dune in the area – 388 m! But our dune is big enough, thank you very much. We rest a while, drink water and then Monique takes the plunge, running straight down the steep face of the dune towards where Sam is taking photos. Her pace becomes crazier, out of control (dune-running takes it out of you!) and when she reaches Sam, she tumbles over in a whirl of sand, takkies and hair. And now it’s my turn..

Pack a picnic and leave the iPod in the car, for the soft chorus of pigeons is amplified by the narrow, rocky nearceilings of the canyon to create all the soundtrack you need.

Sesriem Canyon
I didn’t really expect much from Sesriem Canyon. I mean, it’s no Fish River Canyon, but then one
should compare Guthro Steenkamp with Guthro Steenkamps and not with Ricky Januaries. And, as with scrum halves, you don’t see the charm of the Sesriem Canyon coming at all – next thing you
know it’s under your feet. The tour buses stop in the parking area and then the khakiclad
flock straight down into the main part of the canyon. But wait, turn left, upstream. See if you can find where the Tsauchab suddenly deserts its nondescript rocky course to tumble down into the bowels of the earth. It happens without warning, so tread carefully. Over centuries the water has carved a narrow chute into the conglomerate here, hiding a new, deeper course down below. If you have time (early morning is the best), follow the faint track that goes downstream from the main parking lot. This ends near the bottom of the canyon, where it is wider. You can hike upstream all the way back to the main area. The canyon is just 4,5 km from the campsite at Sesriem, so it’s an easy escape in the middle of the day when the dunes are too hot. If it has rained, you’ll find a small pool of water, where it’s significantly cooler. Pack a picnic and leave the iPod in the car, for the soft chorus of pigeons is amplified by the narrow, rocky near-ceilings of the canyon to create all the soundtrack you need.

It’s not dead quiet at the Sesriem Campsite. You may hear jackals call, barking geckoes, your neighbours chatting, and even the sound of the nearby Sossusvlei Lodge’s generator making ice for you.

Sans Salesman
“I see them, Sir,” Samuel Goliath, who mans the petrol pump at Sesriem, tells me, “The South Africans drive in here and stop at the office. They go in, find out how much it costs and then they drive out again – gone.” Camping at Sesriem is not cheap. It is even more expensive than at Etosha, which makes it the Namibia Wildlife Resorts’ priciest piece of earth where you can pitch
a tent. Even Europeans complain. Johannes Schreuder and Elselot Hasselaar are recent graduates from The Netherlands. I can see they’re on a tight budget – they’ve rented a VW Golf and bought a minute camouflagemotif tent somewhere. “It’s amazingly expensive here – almost €60 per night for the two of us!” They’re eating supper from a pot that they borrowed from reception (a week later we’d run into them again, in Damaraland. We lent them our braai grid in exchange for some wors). “We were in Madagascar and South Africa before this and thought we’d be able to camp our way through Namibia. But now we’re not so sure.” I assure them that camping is far cheaper elsewhere in Namibia. They’re still having a great time, though – this morning they
climbed the dune at Dead Vlei, and at sunset Dune 45. It’s not just camping that’s expensive at Sesriem. Diesel sells for R11,90 and petrol for R10,34 a litre (we were there in October 2008).
This despite the fact that fuel prices had come down twice already since those highs – and a few days later we would pay just R9,02 a litre for petrol in Swakopmund. So someone’s coining it around here.

There is no doubt that it is a rare privilege to camp at Sesriem. To one side lies the entire width of the Namib, at night the jackals circle your campsite, and everywhere inbetween lie rare, majestic
sights. But if you’re a family of five consisting of two adults, two children between the ages of 6 and
12 (they pay half-price) and one under 6 (who sleeps for free, the lucky rascal), you have to fork out
R750 per night!

In the blistering midday heat it may seem absurd that the word sossus means “gathering place of water”. But the area has flooded several times (notably in 1986, 1997 and 2000), turning the vlei into a magical lake.

The call of the Namib
Would we return to Sossusvlei? The answer is simple: for sure. It’s sunset on our final day and we’re sitting halfway up Elim Dune. It’s just 5 km from Sesriem, so perfect for an any-dune-will-do sunset. It’s the very edge of the Namib’s sea of dunes, with the Naukluft and Tsaris mountains to the east and south. In-between, a carpet of yellow winter grass moves like delicate velvet. Any moment now, the barking geckos are going to commence their evening yak. It is impossible not to love this place.

The next morning, we’re heading for Solitaire. A stationary car comes into view, with a man next to it, flagging us down. We stop. The Nissan’s window eases down with a “bwww”. “Excuse me,” it comes in German English, “but ver is ze doon?” We stifle giggles, but it’s a valid question. If you miss the turn-off to Sesriem (not easy) you can lope along the C19 all the way to Solitaire without ever arriving at the foot of a dune. We direct the man; he just missed the turn-off. Yes, we know where “ze doon” is alright. Lots of them. That way, Sir, and enjoy!

After a morning spent in the dunes, a swim in the pool at Sesriem will help to wash off the sand that seems to stick everywhere.

Three days (and two nights) are just enough to explore te main attractions of Sesriem and Sossusvlei. If you can afford only two nights at the campsite good planning will help you make the best of your time.

Day1. You arrive exhausted after 700 km on the road from Springbok or Upington. You reach
Sesriem before sunset, pitch the tents and direct your teenagers to where the braai tongs are packed.

Day2. Get up early and be at the gate when it opens (the times vary seasonally). Make sure you
have a thermos of coffee and rusks for breakfast as well as at least 3 ℓ of water per person. Drive to Dune 45 and start climbing. If you’re fit you should be at the top just as the sun rises. Afterwards,
drive along the tar road to where it ends. Park and walk to Hidden Vlei, nearby and often forgotten. Drive back to the camp and sit out the heat of the day in the swimming pool. At half past three, drive back out to Sossusvlei, take on the last 5 km of sand with your 4x4 (walk or use the 4x4 shuttle service if you don’t have one – it’ll cost you another R75 per person, thanks for coming). Check out Sossusvlei and spend the best hours of sunset light at Dead Vlei for those classic dead-tree-and-dune photos. Shake the sand from your shoes, and then go to bed; your calves will thank you.

Day3. Get up at five again and break camp. Today you’re taking it easy, because you saw all the big
dunes yesterday. Drive to Sesriem Canyon and walk the length of it before it gets too hot. Drive along the tar road afterwards and head out to the first best nameless dune you see. Return to camp for the heat of the day again and then climb Elim Dune at sunset. Slip out before the gate closes and camp outside the park that night.

Softs and shuffle. Only 4x4s and walkers are allowed on the last 5 km of the road to Sossusvlei. If you are driving your own, deflate your tyres to 1,5 bar for the sand – you can inflate them at the garage in Sesriem later.

A jackal left its mark in the mud at Dead Vlei.

And then we see Dead Vlei. Made famous by every landscape photographer worth his or her camera strap, the dead camel thorn trunks come into view, materialising out of the red duvet of sand. We couldn’t find the trail, so our approach is from the wrong side, across an eroded
vlei where small dongas and rock-hard mud hint at the rare floods that surge into this part of the Namib every decade or so.

Towering over us, in every direction, are the dunes, like the swell threatening the Israelites as they made their dash through the Red Sea. Luckily, behind us there are no Egyptian chariots, just two other tourists, small and distant, carrying a camera on a tripod the size of a child. Sam is in overdrive, photographing and lagging behind while our friend Monique
and I continue our brisk race against the setting sun. Finally we reach the edge of the vlei. The dunes are now so red that the camera’s light meter loses the plot. The shadows turn darker – first
grey, then blue, then pitch black. We sit down, then lie down. It’s dead quiet. Not a bird, no wind.

Then the two tourists, a young couple, arrive and start arguing about who should take photos first before the scene mutes them too. For half an hour it’s just the five of us at Dead Vlei. We try to soak
up as much as we can before we have to head back. It’s my first visit to Sossusvlei, my first afternoon. But already I see why people return to this vast landscape. It is a truly sublime place,
where the scenery is so overwhelming that the whole experience can almost be confined to the room left ajar for dreams in your brain. But it’s all real, thankfully.