Gear selection, gear selection, gear selection!

Gear selection, gear selection, gear selection – this was an oft repeated mantra when I stayed at Tok-Tokkie 12 years ago.  After several attempts to summit the dunes on the road to Shaftsburg ended in dismal failure on my part, I long ago gave up the hope of ever driving in Namibia.

Afterall, I haven’t driven a manual in over 35 years and even then, I managed to get booked for a bald tyre when my brother was trying to teach me that changing gears in a random pattern was not really an exercise in creativity and that sometimes, approaching new tasks in a logical, linear fashion can be totally satisfying.

So it was with some trepidation that on my first morning at the Namib Desert Environmental Education Centre (NaDEET) I was to undertake the NaDEET driving test (which involved driving up and down the airstrip) in this, a bakkie 4x4:

 

Well, I thought, I can only fail (again) and if I did tend to wander onto the wrong side of the airstrip every time I changed gears, at least I wouldn’t be attracting the attention of the local constabulary unless, of course, they were in the area doing a desert guiding course.

Gear selection, gear selection, gear selection – what was it again?  Oh yes, remember the “H” diagram for 1^st, 2^nd, 3^rd and 4^th. Oh, and reverse is the funny one on the extreme right and pull backwards, or is it forwards?  Never mind, I probably won’t even get to that.  Amazingly, I went up and down the airstrip without a single kangaroo hop, no gravel slide and no absent-minded weaving from left to right although did manage the requisite attempt to go from 1^st to 4^th in one fell swoop.  However, I had remembered enough to be an alternate driver which I thought would only involve driving the short distance up and down from NaDEET base to the Centre on a completely private road.  Yeah, even I could manage that!

Elsewhere at NaDEET, Eric had developed a nasty infection on one of his fingers which clearly required more than Dettol and a band-aid.  The closest clinic is in Maltahohe, a small inland town of approximately 2,000 residents founded in 1900 which hosts the mighty Agra – an agribusiness supplier where you can buy lip balm, chocolate, cement, power tools, fencing, soup packets, water tanks – pretty much everything – all at the one stop. 

The Agra Shopping Experience

Guide books will tell you Colonel Henning von Burgsdorf, who established the Schutztruppe (??) here, named the town after his wife Malta.  I could not find out whether she was pleased with this decision or not.

It’s a 4-hour round trip on gravel roads, up the Tsaris mountain pass onto the central highland plateau, a long flat stretch of land sparsely populated with various types of thorny bushes like camel thorns, and dry grasses, black-faced karakul sheep, a few kamikaze mongooses and the occasional Cape Cobra out for a slide.  Most years it looks perpetually parched with few trees offering respite from the sun, however, this year Namibia has had its  highest rainfall in a very long time, so although the grasses have dried out, they are long and still retain a vestige of green and patches of yellow and purple wildflowers are still evident.

Sadly, this was not Eric’s day.  Not only did he have a very sore finger, he now had to rely on me to get him to the clinic in one piece physically and emotionally.  I was sure I would get him there – eventually – but as to his emotional state upon arrival, well I wasn’t quite prepared to vouch for that.  If he was a nervous wreck by the time we reached the clinic, I reasoned, at least the clinic might be able to give him something to calm him down for the return journey.  

 

 

Eric and his troublesome finger!

Now, people living in remote locations must use every opportunity to stock up on supplies, so when anyone “goes to town” for whatever reason, there is always a list of other things to do when you get there.  My shopping list included 15 bags of cement and 1 builder named Nicklaus, a person that neither Eric nor I had ever seen before.

So off we set with a couple of full water bottles, a few nibblies and a cell phone to call to advise our position and to contact Nicklaus.  Now Eric is also a musician so we had lots to chat about.  I did mention to him that although I had been driving a long time and had a very safe record,  I hadn’t had much experience driving a manual, well none actually, as I don’t suppose I could count the attempt when I received the aforementioned traffic violation, but I calmed myself with the thought that how hard could it be?  I reckoned I’d have it worked out within the first 20 km, just please, no hill starts on the Tsaris Pass, oh and no reverse parking, if possible.

It was a lovely sunny day, actually Namibia has lovely sunny days about 350 days of the year.  Having been a passenger on this route many times before, I knew to watch out for sand drifts and washed out crossings from when the rivers had run so we set a safe and cautious pace, even giving way to a magnificently large Cape Cobra out for a morning slither.  In fact, I later read on the Namibia travel tips site that, “driving through the Tsaris Pass you should keep in mind that this is one of Namibia’s most densely populated snake areas.’ Definitely, no stopping here for a quick pee behind a bush!

The C19 road to Maltahohe

In the distance, the breathtaking Tsaris reared up from the flat surrounds.  It is by no means the highest pass in Namibia (almost 1900m), but still presents a large and powerful presence that leads you to wondering how old it is, what’s the geology … which is probably why I momentarily forgot the mantra, “gear selection, gear selection, gear selection” as we headed up the steepest incline leading inevitably to my first poor gear selection choice (ie 3^rd to 4^th, instead of 3^rd to 2^nd) which meant we conked out and now I had to face the Tsaris Pass hill start special. 

It took two attempts, I aborted the first attempt when I realised my arm was a bit short to completely release the handbrake and we were just kicking up gravel but got it going on the second attempt.  Glancing in Eric’s direction, I was relieved to see he had yet to develop the wild look of a cornered animal trying to escape, or perhaps he, too, had read the same travel tips site about the number of cranky snakes in the vicinity and decided my driving was the least worse of two lousy options.

We arrived at the clinic around 11.30am.  Locals cover the distance in just under 2 hours.  It took me 2¼ hours which wasn’t too bad, considering.  Amazingly, there were no patients at the clinic so Eric was back at the car within 20 minutes armed with antibiotics and pain killers.  I was feeling quite famished and Eric needed to eat so he could start taking his medication so I thought, well we’ve made pretty good time so let’s go to the other major attraction in Maltahohe, the local hotel.

The Maltahohe Hotel, originally established in 1907, is a fine establishment and looked like it had been renovated since my last visit.  Indeed, a web check revealed it was spruced up in 2004 and is apparently the oldest rural hotel in the country.  The dining room is large and airy furnished with heavy rustic tables and bench seats.  The walls are decorated with an odd assortment of photographs and ancient farming tools.  If I had to describe the overall tone of the space, I’d say it was “musky masculinity”. 

 

  Maltahohe Hotel – no, that is not our vehicle parked out front!

We sat at one of the rustic benches and were the first patrons to arrive for lunch.  There were plenty of people in the bar – sounded like they may have been talking about rugby.  As it seemed no-one had noticed our arrival, I went in search of service which came in the form of a young boy, perhaps 12yo.  We ordered and then I checked my shopping list and decided to ring Niklaus and arrange a pick-up at 1pm.

I had been duly entrusted with the NaDEET cell phone and rang Niklaus.  Now here’s the thing with accents.  Although we were both speaking English – our various Englishes were unrecognisable to each other.  How’s this going to work, I thought.  What if I just say “Agra 1pm”, but no, I also had to tell him to buy some food to bring down with him.  Thankfully, Eric noticed my plight and took over the communications.  All organised – great!

So we settled into our steak sandwiches then set off for Agra arriving at 12.50pm only to find that it closed for an hour at 1pm leaving me 10 minutes to buy 15 bags of cement, convince the Agra staff that despite my extremely suspicious and unrecognisable English, I truly was here on NaDEET business, and load said cement which, of course, involved reversing the bakkie into the despatch door of the cement supply building.

I know what you’re thinking …. But no – aced it in one attempt!  So now just to find Nicklaus who made himself known to us very soon after.  As it turned out, Nicklaus wanted to bring another builder, Rudolph, so after checking in with NaDEET base, we were on the road again with Nicklaus and Rudolph (I whimsically thought there was a bit of a Xmas theme developing here) perched on the cement bags.

We stopped at the petrol station which fortunately was still open where I ran into Piet and Francesca who I had met a few days before in Swakopmund at the Vulture Dinner.  They seemed slightly aghast that I had been entrusted with transporting 3 people and 15 bags of cement and proceeded to give me a long list of Namibian driving do’s and don’ts, most of which I had worked out on the drive up.

After running a Stop sign located in front of the local police station, which fortunately went unnoticed as the population of Maltahohe seems to disappear between the hours of 1-2, we were on our way.  

I managed to get back to NaDEET base without losing Nicklaus or Rudolph or any bags of cement off the back of the ute.

 

Rudolph and Nicklaus

Well, I didn’t manage to get all my gear selections correct, but maybe I was listening afterall during all those 4x4 expeditions across the country with Elinor and Marc and I can hardly wait until the next time I get to practice “gear selection, gear selection, gear selection”.

Until next time, it’s AMO signing off.