Once again, I promise, photos insert “soon” though perhaps once I’m back. It’s taking SO LONG to do it that the wifi times out…..hope words will do.
Our last evening in Sossusvlei turned out to be something straight out of a storybook.
Just before sunset we headed out in open vehicles for what Abraham carefully described as “drinks and snaaaaaacks.”
He now exaggerates the word because earlier in the trip several people heard him say “snakes.”
Which is…a very different invitation.
We drove out into the desert as the sun began to drop behind the dunes. The rocks above us were dotted with dassies — those small, round little creatures that look like guinea pigs but are apparently the closest living relative to elephants. They sat up on the rocks like tiny supervisors, watching us settle in for sunset drinks.
Unfortunately this was the point where my digestive system decided it was still conducting experiments. So while everyone else was enjoying the spread, I stuck with ginger ale and quiet optimism.
Still, the sunset itself was magnificent.
But the real surprise came next.
After the sun went down, we walked around a rocky outcrop… and suddenly a fairyland appeared.
Hidden just out of sight was the most elaborate bush dinner setup imaginable — lanterns glowing, tables set under the open desert sky, everything lit softly against the dunes. It felt like we had wandered into some secret desert banquet for a Namibian queen and her retinue.
Since I wasn’t really eating much that evening (Rice. Sigh.), I had plenty of time to simply sit back and take it all in. At one point I leaned back in my chair, tilted my head way back, and cradled it in my palms — elbows outstretched.
And there they were.
More stars than I have ever seen in my life.
Orion hung upside down in the southern sky, the Southern Cross gleamed nearby, and the Milky Way stretched across the darkness like a luminous river. It was one of those moments that travel gives you occasionally — where everything goes quiet and you realize how small and lucky you are at the same time.
The next morning we woke to a fierce desert wind blowing across the dunes. I’m fairly sure the proper word for it is scirocco — and even if it isn’t, it certainly felt like one.
After packing up we began the long drive toward Windhoek, with one legendary stop along the way.
Solitaire.
Travelers across Namibia talk about the Solitaire apple pie like it’s a required pilgrimage, so of course we had to stop.
The funny thing is that it isn’t quite what Americans expect when they hear “apple pie.”
Instead of a classic pie crust, the Solitaire version has a thick, crumbly topping — more like a streusel or shortbread crust baked over a deep apple filling. Historically, that made sense: pie dough doesn’t behave well in desert heat, but the crumb topping holds up perfectly for travelers passing through.
So what you actually get is a sort of Namib desert hybrid pastry.
And yes — it’s delicious.
We also made another delightful stop along the way at a tiny roadside outpost where a man named Conny lives in the desert and runs what he calls “Conny’s Coffee.” Using solar power and careful technique, he brews pour-over coffee for travelers passing through.
I took several photos of him and his ingenious little setup — including the clever way he keeps his dog, Bobby, off the small patch of grass he’s managed to grow. The solution? Surround the grass with dry acacia thorn branches.
Effective, elegant, and very Namibian.
It was the perfect place to stretch our legs — although I must admit I slept through quite a bit of the drive thanks to what Abraham jokingly calls the “Namibian massage.”
That’s the rhythmic vibration created by Namibia’s long, washboard gravel roads.
Eventually the desert gave way to hills and buildings, and we arrived in Windhoek.
Our hotel here, the AVANI Windhoek Hotel, turned out to have the best breakfast buffet of the entire trip — which felt like quite an achievement after many days on the road.
Another nice change: the hotel is right in the center of the city, within walking distance of many places, whereas previous OAT trips had stayed much farther out.
Before dinner Abraham arranged something special for us.
We stopped at the Independence Museum, and he actually paid to have it opened so he could guide us through the exhibits himself. We ended up touring all three floors with him acting as our docent, explaining Namibia’s long struggle toward independence.
The museum itself was powerful. There were moving dioramas depicting genocides, exhibits honoring resistance leaders and independence heroes, and sobering accounts of the violence inflicted during the colonial era. At one point we found ourselves trying to remember what we had been doing back in 1978, when some of the worst atrocities were taking place.
Most of us realized we hadn’t heard much about it at all.
Some vaguely remembered hearing that Angola was a “troubled place” in those years — which makes sense, since Angola was a major ally in Namibia’s fight for independence. But the scale of what had happened here — the massacres, the slavery, the brutality — was largely absent from the history many of us had learned or even heard of.
One particularly chilling account described how colonial authorities once instructed local communities to lay down their weapons and gather in a specific place — only to open fire on them once they arrived. Men, women, and children alike.
Standing there listening to Abraham explain it, the room grew very quiet.
On the fourth floor of the museum there is a lovely restaurant and bar with sweeping views over the city. From there we were able to look down over Windhoek, including the iconic Christuskirche — the historic German Lutheran church that many guides refer to as the “Church of Peace” — glowing softly in the evening light.
Our official farewell dinner for the OAT portion of the trip was held at the lovely Stellenbosch Wine Bar & Bistro.
The meal looked wonderful… but my stomach still had other plans.
Earlier that day I had managed a piece of dry toast; from the prix fixe menu here, I ordered the steak with rice.
Once again, the rice won.
Abraham found a grateful recipient for the steak — the parking attendant guard outside the restaurant.
So although my culinary adventure in Windhoek was somewhat limited, at least someone went home happy.
By the end of the evening we said goodbye to the group as the OAT portion of the trip came to a close.
But the journey isn’t over yet.
Tomorrow Lynn and I head out to the Cheetah Conservation Foundation, where the next chapter of the adventure begins.
(To be continued…)