Flamingo - Sport & Adventure - Divorce pass and back again
We got married in Namibia, so it’s natural that at some point we would travel over Divorce Pass. As in most marriages, getting to the pass involved a lot of twists and turns over rocky roads, going in unplanned directions and ending up stuck in quicksand.
We set off on a gorgeous fall morning from Doro Nawas, stopping near Twyfelfontein to look for desert elephants and source updated information about local roads and accessibility. Our friends Ockie and Erica, Namibians with long experience in driving off-road and remote camping, had planned our journey – we would drive in their vehicle on rough track, past the Doros Crater, stop for lunch somewhere in the bush, cross the Ugab River about five kilometres upstream from Rhino Camp and be only 20 kilometres from Brandberg White Lady Lodge, where we would spend a pleasant evening, watching the sunset over the mountain and chatting with the owner.
It was a great day – nothing puts life into perspective better than a few 700 million year-old rocks strewn around. We travelled on almost invisible tracks; at some points there was grass as high as the windows of our vehicle, at others we skirted the crumbling rims of deep, rocky ravines. We set up in the shade of a giant boulder for a lunch of cheeses, fresh bread, salad, fruit and chilled South African white wine. What could be better than a day at the end of the world, shared with good friends?
As we climbed into the mountains, we found an ancient burial ground – at least that’s what we decided it was. Large red stones arranged carefully in geometric patterns across a small, grassy clearing. We searched our maps and books, but found nothing to identify it, so we decided we had discovered a lost Namibian archaeological site and took dozens of photos. No doubt we will become famous as explorers.
Finally, in mid-afternoon, we reached the infamous Divorce Pass, so named (according to legend) because terrified wives divorced their husbands after being driven across its car-killer rocks. Ockie was driving and Erica was operating the GPS, while Piero and I took dozens of photos and joked that none of us would be married at the end of the journey. We made it over the pass, relationships and vehicle intact, and continued downhill towards where we would cross the dry Ugab River.
Finally, we reached a viewpoint on the steep slope and stopped to survey the crossing point far below. From above the scene was quiet and serene – a flat, sandy riverbed edged with camel-thorn trees, bordered on both sides by the sharp rise of stony mountains. We descended slowly and came to a stop on the bank of the ephemeral river. There was complete silence. A slight breeze blew, not enough to disturb even a leaf. Not a cloud broke the blue of the sky. There was that sense of desolation we love best about Namibia, the feeling that we four were the only people on earth.
Ockie stayed in the vehicle while the three of us got out to walk the dry riverbed. The sand was firm, pocked with the prints of antelope, baboon, jackal and what I thought looked like – ahem – big, fresh cat tracks. We strode across to the other side, spreading out a little to look for soft spots or wet sand, our backbones tingling at the knowledge we were being watched. We waved to Ockie to come ahead and began walking back across the river to the safety of the car. The Discovery began to move down the bank. Suddenly, the quiet was shattered by the loud crunch of a vehicle sinking up to its axle in wet sand hidden under a hard dry crust.
Without wasting even a moment, Erica grabbed a shovel and started digging, while Ockie let air out of the tyres to obtain traction. I was dispatched to gather dry brush wrapped around the camel-thorn trees to put under the wheels and I tossed the camera to Piero. By now, the shadows were getting longer. Erica and Ockie believed they saw signs that a lion or leopard had killed a baboon and we hoped the cats were still sleeping off lunch. We were completely alone, with no weapon, except for one tiny Bushman arrow given to Piero by an ancient hunter, a nice toothpick for a big cat.
What we did have was food and water, a working GPS, maps, jackets and the knowledge that five kilometres downriver was Rhino Camp. Still, we didn’t relish spending the night inside the SUV waiting for our friends in Windhoek to come looking for us by plane. And, we didn’t want to walk to the camp, knowing that the area was full of predators, not to mention the rhinos.
Finally, Ockie got behind the wheel again. We had done everything we could to prepare – we held our breaths and he gunned the car. After much groaning and heaving, the Discovery crawled out of the sand. Ockie made a quick U-turn in the riverbed and climbed back onto hard ground. We all agreed it was safer to backtrack for several hours, instead of trying to continue in the riverbed and it was pitch dark by the time we arrived back at Burnt Mountain, where there was cellphone coverage. We had crossed Divorce Pass twice in one day, braved getting stuck in the middle of nowhere, and we were still together and pretty proud of ourselves. Text and photos by Sharri Whiting De Masi
