A Sucker For Punishment - Hiking The Fish RIver Canyon - Again

August 31, 2017 Posted in Review / Travel

A sucker for punishment - that was exactly what I must be when I agreed to repeat my 2016 hike of the Fish River Canyon, hoping to inspire fellow outdoor enthusiasts to take on similar adventures. I couldn’t go back on my word, so I saddled up the old backpack, loaded it with essentials, and set off on a nine-day adventure to Namibia. We would hike for five days (covering 90 km) and sleep under the stars for four nights.

Escaping a frosty Boland winter was certainly a bonus. I packed short-sleeve tops, no jumpers, one pair of jeans for the return trip, a large tube of sunscreen, and my daughter's old school swimming costume. Nothing makes me happier than sunny skies and temperatures above 28°C.

My saving grace, of course, was that I was comfortably fit, having recently completed the Camino de Santiago (Portuguese). My core muscles had improved since my first Fish River hike (Yoga, Pilates and Jenny’s strength class), and I’d learned to lighten my load. My expenses had also fallen by at least 50%! Except that I needed a new pair of boots.

Sore feet and blistered toes are a hiker’s nightmare. I had had enough of that and immediately Googled 'sore, swollen feet and what to do about it'. The experts all suggested cross-country shoes - light, non-slip, and perfectly crafted and balanced; they should be out with the old, heavy, leather boots.

A friend told me, succinctly, that the ones I wore were rubbish, the worst choice on the market, and that I was a fool to succumb to their exceptional marketing campaigns. Butch and I made a special trip into Town to get the pair that met all the requirements, which non-athletes and the pros alike had liberally doled out. Based on all the opinions and expert advice, I had a list as long as my arm. This highlights the importance of choosing the right gear and prioritising safety, which I want my audience to remember for their own hikes.

So, on a wet Monday, we bundled ourselves into the bakkie and set off. The drive up to Ai-Ais was a pleasant road trip, broken into short hops, with our first stop for brunch at the Piekenierskloof. Our first night out was spent in the very quirky Sophia’s Guesthouse in Garies. We couldn’t wait to see the new alterations and additions to the décor, both indoors and outdoors. We were not disappointed. I slept like a baby in the huge king-sized bed, under a down-filled duvet.

Spirits were high the next morning as we all trooped back into the bakkie and set off for breakfast in Springbok, where I might be tempted to buy a kitsch pink crystal bedside lamp for our Honey Badger (Overlander truck). According to Peter, this would be the final touch we needed, and Butch would find peace and harmony when he closed his eyes at night, as crystals have healing powers. I think not; I am all he needs in that department. I truly appreciated the support and humour of my friends and guides, which made the journey more meaningful.

Springbok is a shopper's Mecca, and Tweet could purchase a rather snazzy gold satin scatter cushion at Pep Stores. As for pillows, The Golden Orb scored 10/10, as my inflatable pillow sprang a leak on the first night, and so did Mariclaire’s. Once we’d stocked up on our last-minute groceries, we were off to spend our last evening before the hike at Ai-Ais.

I would rather not elaborate on the state of Ai-Ais, as it’s being revamped (restoration work started sometime last year). Progress is painfully slow, and deterioration in the buildings, pool maintenance, and ablutions is evident. The indoor hot water pools and spas are out of commission, which is disappointing. The restaurant was open; we did not have a meal there, but we did enjoy a fabulous toasted ham, cheese, and tomato sandwich on the veranda after we’d completed our hike. This decline highlights the importance of supporting sustainable tourism and environmental preservation, which I hope resonates with readers and other hikers.

Notwithstanding all of this, the campsites were chock-a-block, and most guests didn’t seem too fazed. Sadly, clients are still charged full price for amenities that do not meet accepted standards anywhere in South Africa, let alone in Europe. The shop has improved since I was there in March; stocks are up, and the staff are very friendly, helpful and keen to hear tourists' and hikers' stories. The lady serving me at the checkout was delightful!

The next morning, we were up with the larks, packed up, and headed off to Hobas. We paid our entrance fees to Hobas National Park, handed over our Medical Certificates (which we all have) and a clean Bill of Health, and visited the shop to pay exorbitant prices for last-minute packets of Jelly Babies and Wine Gums. We filled our water bottles, had a cup of coffee at the Buffet, and managed to sneak in a sandwich too.

Hobas National Park’s campgrounds have been upgraded and are top-notch. The restaurant serves a buffet breakfast to clients (we’ve not yet figured out who they are; it could be guests staying in the chalets or those pre-arranged with tour guides). There is an adequate shop with the friendliest staff (it would be amiss not to mention that all Namibians are exceptionally friendly).

Burt kindly ferried us to the start of the hike near the viewpoint. We were delighted to escape the bumpy ride in the open Safari vehicle, and we saved R350 pp to boot! With a heavy heart, Mariclaire said goodbye to her beloved Burt before stepping off into the abyss. While she and Peter scampered off like mountain goats, Tweet and I took it one step at a time, clinging to the steel chain and not daring to look anywhere but straight down at our toes. My fear of heights kicked in immediately, and a cold sweat dripped from my brow. With one or two slips and slides, Tweet and I made it to our lunch stop and a refreshing swim.

For me, the worst was over. The Fish River was full of water. Deep, clear pools of sweet water snaked peacefully along our route. Rock and boulder jumping seemed more common this year, but I managed it much better. After a few kilometres on the thick sand, I’d look forward to some stones (which are plentiful).

The grandeur of the Canyon was as awe-inspiring as it had been last year, and I was thrilled to have my camera with me, along with all the batteries I needed. The pinks and blues of early mornings and the shades of gold in the evening transformed the sky each day. The relentless, unyielding burn of the sun at noon transformed the landscape and mirrored our mood as we searched for a shady spot for lunch and an hour’s siesta before continuing our trek to find a campsite on a flat stretch of beach sand on the river.

At night, we’d relax around our campfire after rolling out our bedrolls, nursing our tired feet, and taking a refreshing dip in the cool, therapeutic waters. We’d watch Mariclaire prepare our delicious one-pot meals as we sipped our sundowners, chatting amiably. Lying in our sleeping bags, listening to the night sounds while we marvelled at the stars and the huge Milky Way was awesome, and I’d drift off to sleep without having to count a single sheep.

This time, the baboons were far more brazen, often appearing as soon as we’d unpacked our snacks, coming in close to sit and wait for us to move on so they could scavenge for easy pickings. We made sure we left nothing. They’ve become accustomed to walkers leaving scraps, a seeming kindness, but we’re going to regret this at our leisure, as they’re going to become even more confident in the future and will become a real menace. Hikers are effectively killing them with kindness.

Sadly, the wild horses didn’t make an appearance this year, but we did see a zebra, lots of birds, a scorpion, a huge grasshopper, and, occasionally, some klipspringers. I was fascinated by the flowering plants that grow in the arid soil, sometimes surviving on only a few drops of dew at night.

Hikers are not necessarily environmentalists, and this was evident again, with lavatory paper decorating many bushes and trees. Bottles, wrappers, plastic, discarded shoes, a shirt, and debris often littered camping sites and fireplaces. I find it quite distressing, but that’s the nature of the beast, I suppose.

We made it back to Ai-Ais in good time on our fifth morning, not as exhausted as last year. We enjoyed a celebratory drink on the veranda and a delicious toasted sandwich. I wallowed in the hot water pool, had a long shower, shampooed my hair, shaved my legs, and felt fitter than ever. I did not make the trip unscathed, and I have to admit I did it my way: hands, knees and noggin, or arse over kettle, as they say. So my toes and minor scrapes needed attention and a liberal dose of Mercurochrome.

Side Note: I bought a pair of Salomon Speed Cross 4. They are very comfortable, but I still got blisters, and Salomons do not last terribly long; Butch had to replace his after 4 months. My GP says I need to pack a fully weighted backpack, put it on my back, stand on a sheet of paper with bare feet, trace my foot, and, armed with this, go and have boots/shoes fitted; he says my shoes are too narrow across my toes. I have lost 6 toenails, with one more to go! For me, it's part of the fun, though. I also found it's impossible to find a salesperson qualified to "fit" shoes in our shops. Nou ja, if the shoe fits, I will wear it!

I won't hang up my backpack for good, but this will most likely be my last Canyon hike. I’ve given it my best shot, repeated the experience, challenged myself, and proved I could do it better and quicker, and enjoy it more. I am ready to move on to other exciting hikes.

Once we’d all caught our breath and freshened up, we piled back into the bakkie and set off to spend a night on the banks of the Orange River at Amanzi River Camp, a beautiful campsite just an hour’s drive from the border post. We were set to resume our road trip the next morning after a 2-hour canoe trip, which I was very excited about, as it would be a paddle down memory lane for me, having done a 5-day trip down the Orange River with my son Joe 14 years ago. (In those days, he could down a beer in 3.4 seconds, which proved to be his very popular party trick, and we had a repeat performance every evening.)

He was lucky to have me do ALL the rowing the next day. A stay at Amanzi River Camp is my new favourite overnight location should I be in that area. Breakfasts can be ordered; the bar is open for drinks and ice; and we could even enjoy a light lunch after we'd completed our canoe trip. The grounds are immaculate, the lawns manicured, and the ablutions get a 5* rating from me; they're really hot.

And so, we splish-splashed our way down the Orange quietly, sometimes just floating, lying on my back while our guide did all the work (he was the little engine and I did the steering). Unfortunately, I decided not to take my camera along (just as well, as I did get wet from vigorous paddling). I highly recommend a trip on the Orange River, whether it’s a short one or a few days under the stars. It’s so worth it.

We pulled into Sophia’s Guesthouse once again to complete our circle before heading home. A lovely supper had been prepared for us, chicken pie with all the trimmings. After a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, we set off through Namaqualand. Sadly, there were only small patches of flowers, as the rains hadn’t come this year.

Thank you, Mariclaire, who, under very stressful circumstances, still managed to organise our trip. I wish you all the very best with your new, exciting ventures, whatever they may be. You’re a star, and success will always follow you. Tiny Tweet: I could go anywhere with you; we have similar strides. Although I don’t always get your “jokes”, Peter, you have a fine sense of humour, and I must say you’re a peach.

I trust our video will be as fabulous as last year. Thank you, Burt, for patiently folding up my marvellous tent, stopping whenever we asked you to, carting us safely to and from the Canyon, and nursing my sore feet. You all put up with me, my funny toes, and my obsession with seeing everything through a lens. Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch of friends to hike the FRC.