Roadtrip to Namibia

Vehicles are an incredible tool for both transportation and experience.

While travel by aircraft is arguably the most efficient, when teleporting through the sky in a metal can, you miss everything that is below. Every bump in the road, every scenic viewpoint, every wandering animal, every road stop fuel station, and the chance to view a changing scenery in real time. When David introduced the idea of road-tripping to Namibia, I attempted to imagine how the experience might unfold, and frankly, my expectations were severely amiss.

With Cape Town in our rearview, the paved highways became progressively less trafficked until, eventually, the smooth pavement beneath the tires withdrew as the rumble from dirt roads began. As we traveled north, vegetation became more scarce, fertile soil progressively morphed into cosmic dust, and with every waking mile, we distanced ourselves more and more from contemporary comforts.

On multiple occasions during our 14-hour haul, I attempted to envision what the outcome might look like if we were to have car troubles and be forced to sideline the vehicle hours from any potential rescue point. When you distance yourself so drastically from civilization, especially in a climate that is so drastic, the reality of unfortunate circumstances or mishaps becomes increasingly consequential, and I think it is only natural to consider the inherent probability. However, we were lucky enough to never have an issue. Thanks to the support of Front Runner, we had access to some of the most equipped earth-roaming vehicles imaginable, bestowing a sense of assurance and reliability in scenarios of uncertainty.

"I had never once endured winds of such sustained and violent intensity."

As we slowly descended upon our destination, along with scenic changes, we encountered dramatic weather alterations. In my lifetime, especially while being involved with the kiteboarding industry, I have experienced an array of windy conditions ranging from a delicate breeze to a punishing howl. However, as we neared our coastal destination, I had never once endured winds of such sustained and violent intensity. The single roadway, both in and out of town, was lined with crews operating excavators and bulldozers who were not conducting road repairs but, instead, daily maintenance. The wind in this particular area is so formidable that anything in its path eventually erodes and becomes windswept, and in this case, desert sand was being transported by the pound in abundant yields. When not routinely cleared, the roadway becomes completely buried, making entrance into the town impassible. 

The wind battered the sides of the trucks, and the sand pelted every surface of the vehicle, diluting the air and filling the sky with an unmistakable khaki-colored hue. Andrea made the grave mistake of rolling the window down, momentarily creating a sandy cyclone within the cab that dusted every surface with a thin layer of Namibia's finest. Our shelter from the wind did not last long, however. Andrea's prolonged tolerance from the confinement in the back seat had finally worn thin, and within an hour of our arrival, we found ourselves parked at the beach, preparing to confront the elements.

If you have never seen anyone attempt to manipulate wind of such fierce magnitude, it is impressive to say the least, especially if that person is Andrea Principi. As Noe, Craig, David, and I manned the cameras and assisted on land, Andrea spent more time in the air than he did on the water, flying around in conditions most would consider hazardous, or as commonly referenced by Andrea, "epic bro."

Although one might assume that wind in the 60kts range is transient, for the entirety of our stay in Namibia, we were confronted with the unremitting fury of a forecast consistent with hurricane-like winds. While these types of conditions are idealistic for big air, they are not as promising for freestyle. In an effort to not get blown away, Noe and I opted for dawn patrol sessions, leaving our accommodations in the dark and being out on the water for sunrise. For nearly all of our morning sessions, it was like a race against time, attempting to pack in as much riding as we could before the heat of the morning would switch the wind from breezy to ballistic. Sincerely, it was like a light switch; as soon as the sun began to rise, the wind would go from 20kts to 50kts, so we made every minute on the water count.

First and foremost, the purpose and overall intent of the trip was to kite and capture the best photos and video we could with the conditions we were given. Although kiteboarding was the primary objective, dictating the course of our trip, some of the things I will remember the most are the experiences we had out of the water. Sometimes, while riding, especially while shooting, you become so focused on the moment and the task at hand that you can overlook your surroundings. The coastline of Namibia is merely a boundary for the desert, and it was humbling to observe such a colossal expanse. 

Often, coastal regions tend to provide vegetative climates due to the evaporation of ocean water, adding moisture to the surrounding air. However, our experience in Namibia was the convergence of two contrasting deserts. When the sandy desert terminated at the water's edge, the sea's desert began, and if you were to peer in every direction, all you would see is either the continuation of a dark blue ocean or the continuation of pallid stricken sand. Occasionally, the beach would be a melting pot for flamingos, whose bright pink feathers would stick out vibrantly like stars on a dark night. On land, we were able to see and interact with some of Africa's staples, such as zebra, springbok, wild horses, ostrich, and more. While the wonder of land's samplings were enthralling, the sea is what really accelerated our admiration for Namibia. 

Whether it was a restaurant or barbecuing by the trucks in the desert, nearly every meal we had was accompanied by crayfish. If we weren't eating crayfish, we were likely sampling some of Namibia's other oceanic principles, such as mussels, kingklip, local tuna, or any variety of local seafood. On land, we explored every nook of the surrounding desert and immersed ourselves in the local cuisine, and while riding, we felt like pioneers, likely the only kiteboarders within hundreds of miles. When you remove yourself so existentially from the pulse of a bustling modern epoch and escape to a place that seems somewhat detached from the burden of progressive expansion, you feel the profundity of isolation and the enormity of a world yet to be experienced. 

Last year,  if someone were to ask me about Namibia, I would not have given them much feedback as I was entirely unfamiliar with this country in Africa. Now, if someone were to ask me the same question, I would tell them it is a must-see place to visit, even if you have no intention of seeking its watersport offerings. If I were to give a single memorandum for Namibia, I would say that "traveling is the catalyst for discovery." From beginning to end and everything in between, this trip was truly incredible, and I hope to have the opportunity to revisit this special portion of the world one day.