A
journey in this part of the world would not be complete without the compulsory
stop at Moose McGregor's bakery at Solitaire.
Solitaire is in the middle of nowhere with nothing more than a filling station,
a place to sleep and eat and a landmark selection of old motorcar wrecks at the turnoff. It also has a bakery where the most delightful and freshly baked
treats can be bought – apple tart being the signature delicacy.
However, things will never be the same for the bakery anymore. Moose McGregor
passed away earlier this year. At a quiet section of the bakery counter
visitors can sign a book and pay tribute to a legend from this part of the
world who has made a success of the unthinkable – an internationally known bakery
at Solitaire somewhere in the middle of Namibia.
Still on a good gravel road on the way to Swakopmund , I was expecting to reach
the outskirts of the desert not too long after leaving Solitaire. Again Namibia
proved me wrong. Between the plains around Solitaire and the start of
the desert, we first had to negotiate the Kuiseb Pass on the Eastern entrance
to the Namib-Naukluft Park. This unexpected, amazing and winding pass with its sharp
corners took us deep down into what felt like the gut of the earth to cross the Kuiseb
River at its lowest point. Off-road riding heaven!
And then the contrast. Rising from what could have been the inners of the
earth, we reached flat open plains so wide that it was virtually impossible to identify
where land and sky met at a non-existing horizon.
And there was more to come.
Riding West on a never-ending and straight gravel road and focusing all the
time on the road itself, it was possible to miss the gradual change from flat
grasslands to flat nothing.
And that is exactly what happened to me. At a rest stop, I suddenly realised
that my riding has taken me into the desert – to me a very strange and rare
desert. No high dunes, but only sand, patches of rock and a flat nothingness
for as far as the eye could see. And as the newcomer to this ancient world of
barren geographical history, I felt like an intruder who did not belong there.
I was the privileged freshman who was allowed to catch a mere glimpse of a
vastness and immensity that could not be described in words. And I felt small
and insignificant.
I continued my journey, my eyes constantly sweeping over the unforgiving limitlessness around me. This was the crescendo, the climax of the pilgrimage that I
had embarked on. The experience drained me from all pretense that could still have
remained inside me. Pretense was not possible when confronted by this desolate
natural wonder.
Closer to Walvis Bay, high dunes started to appear. Having been riding for a
100 km in this stark wilderness and more than 200 km since we left Solitaire
this morning, the desert and my solitude was now complete.
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