The romance of the Skeleton Coast’s stormy seas, shipwrecks and seafaring tales make exploring this forbidding and notorious Namibian coastline an intriguing adventure. And if you only find a shipwreck or two, rusting away in the salty water or on the desert shore, don’t despair, there are many more treasures to dazzle and enchant on the route from Swakopmund northwards to the swaying makalani palms of Palmwag.
The route always elicits excitement for its unusual attractions, the untold surprises of a desert country. And no matter how many times I drive it, I always find myself smiling and looking forward to the out-of-the-ordinary extraordinary day.
I woke to coastal mist, the precious moisture from the sea that nourishes desert life, anointing the Swakopmund streets and floating in the air like confetti from heaven. Breakfast at The Delight, if you’re fortunate enough to be delighting at this innovative hotel, includes fresh oysters and a glass of champagne. I was one of the lucky travellers and headed north with a full belly, the sea on my left and the tawny desert sand on my right. These would be my bearings for the next few hours until the road veers eastward from the coast, three hundred kilometres on, and the temperature rises as you leave the cool of the coast and the road to Torra and Terrace Bay behind you to head inland.
The bright colours of the fishing settlement of Wlotskasbaken (translated from the German as Wlotskas’s Beacon) come first, the houses flanked by water tanks. The name stems from the early 1900s when Paul Hermann Wlotzka transported supplies to prospectors and surveyors along the coast. He built a small shed next to one of the surveying beacons to store water and feed for his animals. The bay proved to be a good fishing spot and attracted fishermen and holidaymakers over the years, becoming known as ‘Wlotska’s Baken’.
Before you even reach Henties Bay, a popular ‘hengel’ (angling) town, you find the turnoff to the Zeila shipwreck lying in the shallows. The fishing trawler came to grief on 24 August 2008 on its way to the Mumbai scrapyard. Its towing line came loose near Walvis Bay and strong seas swept it northwards, spitting it out south of Henties. Stone sellers with their trays of semi-precious stones surround you as you climb out of your car to brave the chilly wind.
Although the Skeleton Coast is thought to be dotted with shipwrecks of old, this is not the case. The wrecks break up or rust away very quickly, are swept away by the strong currents and buried under the sand or are salvaged. Only the more recent wrecks remain. A signboard at the Ugab Gate later informed me that in the years between 1900 and 2023 more than 65 ships were wrecked on the 700km stretch of coast between Swakopmund and the Kunene River, and 63 seafarers lost their lives.
The daunting name ‘Skeleton Coast’ was first used by journalist Sam Davis when he reported on a lost aeroplane in 1933 and the name stuck. But the only skeletons that you’ll find (besides the well-known rendition of a skull-and-crossbones at Ugab Gate) are the bleached whale and seal bones that lie scattered on the beaches. Author Lawrence Green called it the ‘Coast of Hell’, an apt name for the coast with its treacherous waters, unpredictable currents, hidden reefs, thick mist and gale-force winds.
At Henties the tar ends and the salt road begins, the ribbon of salt and gypsum which is kept compacted by the coastal mist. And what can you expect from here on besides gravel plains and the glimpse of blue from the west? Well, firstly, the fields of lichens, those symbiotic organisms comprising an alga and a fungus, that grow on the rocky soil and one of the many reasons (besides unsightly tracks that last for decades) to avoid driving offroad.
And, as you near Cape Cross and the salt works, small tables laden with salt crystals begin to appear on the roadside. Prices are scrawled on the surface of the tables and a receptacle, often an old condiment container with a hole in the top to hold the money, sits in the centre. The salt tables exhibit a humble and charming honesty system, not often seen in today’s age. I pulled off the road and made my purchases folding notes into the containers, supremely grateful for this simple sign that the world is still good.
(Watch this space next Friday for ‘Romancing the Skeleton Coast’, part2)