I first came here in 1989, six months before the country won its independence from neighboring South Africa.
Travel in Namibia is relatively easy-and safe. There aren’t many places in Africa where you can fly into the capital (in Namibia, it’s Windhoek), rent a four-wheel-drive vehicle, and strike off on your own to discover the country. A population density of a mere seven people per square mile may contribute to the relaxed spirit-and freedom to explore-that you find here. It’s a country of epic landscapes and cinematic beauty spread across an area nearly twice the size of California but with only two million people. For seven days, this expanse, for all practical purposes, is our own private Africa. At this moment, our group of five-Jahnke, his two drivers, photographer Frans Lanting, and I-are the only people in an uncharted desert wilderness of 10,000 square miles. Volker Jahnke of Desert Magic Tours is one of a handful of outfitters permitted to lead visitors into the prohibited zone, a place few have been privileged to see. A few years ago the government made this area a national park, opening it for guided tours on a limited-access basis, one group at a time. It’s Day Two of a one-week, four-wheel-drive expedition into an area known as the Sperrgebiet-German for “prohibited zone”-a diamond-mining concession controlled by De Beers that was off limits for nearly a century. I’m in the heart of the great sand sea of Namibia in the southwest corner of Africa. All I see is a sheer drop of sand and Jahnke’s Land Cruiser at the bottom, looking like a Tinker Toy.Īround me stretch miles of golden dunes, rolling in waves to every horizon, like a scene from Lawrence of Arabia. “But don’t stop and don’t turn the wheel,” he cautions, “or you’ll roll like a melon.” I’m perched atop a skyscraper-high sand dune in a 4x4 truck, aiming down. Just point your vehicle straight down and go,” Volker Jahnke says to me, his voice gravelly over the two-way radio.
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