Angola - Extraordinary Dirt Roads, Land and Seascapes Part 2

I am about to let the cat out of the bag.  Angola is an undiscovered treasure; if I could have my way, it would become a tourist destination sooner rather than later.

I invite you to hop in, buckle up and enjoy the drive with us. In a series of photographs that take in the rugged roads of Angola, I hope to showcase the beauty and remote open spaces of Namibe’s desert landscape.

As the Honey Badger roared to life, we were filled with a palpable sense of adventure, ready to embark on the journey of discovery ahead. Our route on the Estrada da Baia would take us north through the Namib desert of Namibe province, promising a wealth of unique experiences and awe-inspiring landscapes.

At times, we’d be hugging the coast, but much of our journey would be on winding mountainous dirt roads, gritty gravel tracks, and through sparse vegetation that painted a unique picture of the harsh desert landscape. The rugged terrain was a sight to behold, with its jagged cliffs and rolling hills, offering us rare vistas at every turn.

Settlements were few and far between. A handful of goats roamed freely, chomping on the scant vegetation. Relatively safe here amongst the stones and not much else.

Under Portuguese rule, Namibe was known as the Moçâmedes District. With its vast area of 57,091km2 this province is an inimitable blend of history and natural beauty, making it a must-visit for travellers. 

Behind us lay the port and city of Moçâmedes, where we’d spent three glorious nights. Moçâmedes is the province's capital, with a population of 250,000 in 2014. Iona National Park lies within the province.

Founded by the Portuguese in 1840 until 1985, the area was also spelt "Mossâmedes".

The province's current name is derived from the Namib Desert, which lies predominantly south in Namibia; the northernmost part extends into the Namibe.

Although we didn’t see any Welwitschia mirabilis, "a strange plant with a giant root,"  we did encounter other species native here.

Lake Arco, a freshwater oasis, is a stunning sight in the middle of the desert, near the coast of the Bentiaba Desert and in Iona National Park. Late Cretaceous fossils of sharks, turtles, mosasaurs, and sauropods have been discovered. We would see examples of these ancient relics collected along the beach at resorts.

Displayed here are some of the treasures found on beaches.

It is said that the province has significant reserves of gold, copper, manganese, chromium, tin, lignite and marble. This news inspired me to take a closer look at the earth as we trundled up the coast, and the colours of the world and the different formations and rocks strewn about confirmed the notion that beneath this barren landscape, there are untold fortunes and treasures.

 

We spent our first night just off the road, which is now under construction, at a campsite managed by a friend of the manager, who kindly allowed us to set up camp. When completed, this road will provide easier access to this remote region, potentially opening it up to more visitors.

The next morning, at sunrise, we set off again, eager to reach our destination on the coast. At times, we would spot the sea, a never-ending splash of colour where one can’t distinguish the horizon—just a mélange of blue.

According to the map, we passed Cabo de Santa Marta, Ponta das Salinas, Dombe Grande, and Baia Farta. Such exotic names right here in a desert conjure up memories of Portugal. These names, reminiscent of Portuguese explorers and settlers, remind us of the region's colonial past, adding another layer of historical richness to our journey.

The red rocky road sliced through miles of sun-yellowed grasses, speckled by green evergreen shrubbery. Our two-track road winding itself through narrow gorges and ribbed roads made our teeth chatter and the enamel crack, and our wheels did a Morse code tapping over the undulated, rutted roads.

The lack of water was eerily convenient, considering the extensive flooding in the province on April 5, 2001, when the Bero and Giraul Rivers severely affected roads and people in Namibe, Huila, and Benguela provinces.

Now, dry riverbeds lie silently flanked by steep ravines. The sand hungrily awaits a cloudburst to wash the fine sand into the sea.

On this six-hour journey, we’d only spotted one truck trying in vain to escape its dust ball in the distance. At last, sitting perched in the middle of nowhere, there was a fork in the road with a discreet board announcing our destination, Praia da Soba.

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With no prior knowledge of our destinations, we embarked blindly on a journey of pure discovery. This sense of the unknown added to the excitement of our road trip, making it a genuinely thrilling and adventurous experience.

Only the GPS tracked us, and on a few occasions, even that could be misleading. Sometimes, it can be distressing to realise no one on earth knew where the Dickens we were. I’m sure some friends would be rolling their eyes and shaking their heads at our folly while our children, I’m sure, egged us on, nonetheless.

As we inched forward, we realised we had to approach the entrance gate cautiously, as our solar panels missed the cross bar by a few millimetres.

Ahead lay a spindly spit of land, our destination. Praia da Soba, where we hoped to spend a night or two, had a lodge and a few cottages clinging to the edge of a cliff and a campsite on the beach.

And then we saw the attraction of this place: the bluest turquoise sea and a horseshoe band of cliffs reminiscent of Wuthering Heights. The piercing magnificence knocked the wind out of me.

Nestled along the stunning coastline, Praia do Soba is an exquisite gem that captivates travellers with its pristine sandy beaches and breathtaking natural vistas.

This idyllic retreat is characterised by its serene atmosphere, offering a perfect escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. The shimmering waters are ideal for swimming and sunbathing, while the surrounding landscapes invite exploration and relaxation. We were ready to enjoy the spot's laid-back aura. Sometimes, besides the waves, the only sound could be the flapping of laundry out to dry.

We basked in the sun and enjoyed a long stroll along the shore. Praia do Soba provided an enchanting setting for us to unwind and rejuvenate. 

Our campsite nestled under a canopy of rock and cliff protected us from the elements. We lazed there in our warm cocoon, enjoying the splendour around us. After our sundowners, admiring the spectacular Angolan sunset, we would return to light our fire and dine under the stars at night. In the morning and evening, we would shiver under a cold, salty shower, just a makeshift pipe and a showerhead, no frills and no fuss. The simplicity suited us.

The resort's owner and manager were friendly and welcoming. This family enterprise enhanced our overall experience.

Maria explained that the beach is a soothing spot and a hub for various activities, including beach sports and water-related adventures. Praia do Soba's scenic beauty is complemented by its rich natural beauty, allowing visitors to immerse themselves in a relaxed lifestyle.  

Maria, taken with the mysticism of the cliffs, caves, and sea, offers group retreats where participants can study, relax, and revivify. She said it is where one finds one's soul again, and I can imagine her retreats do just that.

In addition to its natural beauty, Praia do Soba serves as a gateway to nearby attractions and activities, making it an excellent base for further exploration of Angola’s diverse landscapes.

The exquisite sunsets painted the sky with startling tangerines, mauves, and cerises, creating a picturesque backdrop for memorable moments.

To realise the magnitude of the cliffs, it is good to notice how dwarfed the Honey Badger is nestled in the cave-like overhang we were parked in for our stay. Cottages, tents, and ablutions are minute and hardly visible. No photograph can do the grandeur justice.

On our last night, we treated ourselves and joined the other guests for supper at a long table in the lodge. There, we met the rest of the family and partook in a typical Mediterranean meal with a boisterous clan who eagerly told us all about their history, the boys’ homeschooling, and their carefree life in Angola with all its changes, nuances, and a fair share of discord. We met a lovely father and son duo from the Netherlands, Dad showing his grown-up boy Angola, where he worked as an engineer when his son was born and a toddler.

Butch and I agreed Praia do Soba is a destination where nature and serenity converge, ensuring an unforgettable experience.

We have travelled many roads, where we’ve had to navigate some of the weirdest situations, but our descent from the lodge to our destination at the campsite took first prize. I must confess I was so nervous I asked Butch to stop the truck so that I could alight and walk (or slide) down to the powdery sand a hundred meters below. The black jeep was an omen of what could happen if one didn't concentrate.

In my mind’s eye, I envisioned the wheels losing their grip on the gravel road and sliding into oblivion as we careened over the abyss. Butch, as calm as a clam, assured me we would be just fine and that the Honey Badger’s wheels and tyres had enough grip to get us safely to sea level.

Ahead of us, the antiquated tractor, leading the way, was the best option for the job, but once again, the Honey Badger showed its grit. We both sighed when we stopped at our campsite. In unison, we exhaled and said, “Honey Badger takes no $#!t” That’s for sure. We descended at a snail's pace with all four wheels firmly gripping the earth. I grabbed the door handle just in case things went awry. I silenced my inner voice saying, “Oh ye of little faith.”

During the next leg of the trip, memories of our meal at the long table with this tight family reminded us of our lively get-togethers around our table groaning with large platters of fabulous food, great company, and heated debates and fiery opinions.

Four sea turtle species live in this area, and Praia do Soba is one of their breeding grounds. Now protected, the meat and eggs were once harvested by locals for subsistence.

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Butch walked up the steps to reception reluctantly on this fine day turning around to see the view every so often. As much as we’d have liked to stay, the stamp in our passports determined the length of our visits, and it was time to move on. We were still determined to reach the Congo River, but only had a month to do so.

The uphill grind from the campsite proved no problem at all. We'd become accustomed to the inclines, and the Honey Badger licked the gravel going up, taking it all in her stride.

We continued on gravel, with Maria's assurance that the road would improve. Interestingly, many roads we travelled were old and didn’t live up to modern road-building technology. We found the inclines and declines to be treacherously tricky.

Our speed reduced dramatically, and no sooner had we commented on the gravelly terrain than our tyre pressure monitor started beeping hysterically.

On a very steep decline we stopped and Butch verified. Yes, we had a sidewall puncture, and the few bars of air were escaping in a loud hiss, sending puffs of dust into the air. To crown it all, it was a horrendously hot midday sun.

To make changing the tyre easier, we limped on a flat wheel to a level spot 50m from where we were.

This is not the F1; therefore, I am proud to announce that the process took us 90 minutes to complete. Unlike previous flat tyres, not one motorist (we could count them on one hand) stopped to help us. They all waved, smiled, and put foot, skedaddling as fast as they could, which was... slow. They might’ve thought stopping to help could be bad karma. Seated on the flat wheel, we smiled and nodded in return while wiping the grit and grime from our eyes with a filthy, sweat-soaked rag. 

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We resumed our journey at a snail’s pace, keeping our eyes locked on the razor-sharp rocky terrain to avoid further gashes or mishaps. Butch warned, now we only had one wheel as a spare. Moreover, he added ominously, we needed to replace the damaged tyre chop-chop.

A few kilometres before our destination, we were rewarded with a good tar road, which took us to Bentiaba, where we were advised to stop for the night.

Maria’s suggestion that we wild camp on Lucina's beach was spot on. After negotiations with the local naval constabulary, who camp out on the beach, we were permitted to set up a hundred meters from their encampment.

Fresh fish was on the menu when we spotted the fishing boats anchored a short walk from us. We approached the wooden boat with the most customers and a very chatty fish seller, and Butch selected and bought a good-looking fish for our dinner.

Later, a troupe of young boys came around to admire the truck, and we were thrilled to reward them with one of our soccer balls. A team of girls arrived next, and they went off hopping and skipping with another ball. We could hear their excited shrills on the netball court, while the boys resumed a soccer match on the beach. Our fire crackled, the charcoal glowed red, and the sun set gold on the placid waters.

We saw seamen/sailors walking past our truck as they performed security routines along the beachfront every so often. We were exhausted after our gruelling day, and no sooner had we packed up our dinnerware than we were in bed. In the distance, the sound of Saturday night revelry continued—a deserving reward for a simple life well lived on the edge of the world. I fell asleep cocooned, knowing all was well in the world. A flashlight woke me during the night; it was just a guard checking on us.

Pink skies in the morning greeted us, and to enjoy the scene, we dipped our rusks into our coffees on the beach while keeping our eyes on the fishing boats going out to sea. 

When we made our way to the "big" road that morning, the village was quiet. I believe life has a rhythm here that has not changed much in a hundred years.