First days in Namibia – Lapa Lange Guest Farm

Early this morning, before I could decide how the weather would turn out, my beloved left with our Honey Badger in tow to have new tyres fitted, have a bull-bar attached, as recommended by other overlanders, and to install a Thule storage container, our current one is far too heavy.

He did warn me he might be a while. In the meantime, an icy Benguela wind has come up. I’m freezing in a strappy top and shorts.

With little choice regarding warm clothing, I tied our tablecloth around my neck. If I look like Spiderwoman will I have superpowers? Fortunately, the cotton fabric is a traditional African print bought in Mozambique. The fabric seller Bob Marley would be thrilled.

My eye has just caught sight of our plastic tablecloth, my next best bet?  I could make a wind break and sit under the table. Like a dog seeking shelter and the sun’s warm rays, I have circled our ablutions sitting on the portable Da Silva step. The chilly western wind will not leave me to thaw. I will welcome my beloved with open arms this afternoon.

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The journey from Mata-Mata went without a hitch. While driving, we had to decide on our next stay and thought we might return to the Kalahari Game Lodge, a destination we were keen to visit last year, but calamity struck. Our Honey's batteries went on the blink, we later learned only a single thread attached them to the alternator keeping us going as we limped to the nearest auto electricians in Keetmanshoop. Our plans had to be aborted, we had bigger fish to fry. This time we hoped we could stay over.

The official imposing thatched gate didn’t work last time, and nothing has changed. We couldn’t manoeuvre the Honey Badger through the gap. the lady she is too high to come by. We returned to the service entrance, but it was locked. With no data available at the border, the farm stall there closed, we could not communicate with the lodge. Thankfully this time, the Honey Badger started immediately. Disappointed we couldn’t stay, we fired up the Garmin to search for places to stay.

We picked the perfect lodge on the big road to Mariental. Lapa Lange Guest Lodge described as "an oasis in Southern Namibia."

Magda, the receptionist, made us feel at home immediately. By the looks of things, we would be the only campers for the night. We selected our spot and set up our campsite, which we need not have done. The cool, thatched veranda beckoned. Who can resist a long drink overlooking a large watering hole? Certainly not me.

The peanuts in the shell, served with our sundowners, were a reminder of our very expensive drinks in Singapore at the "famous" Raffles bar. We coughed up over a thousand rand for two beers, one a foot long, the overly sweet pink cocktail (what it's famous for) and a Gordon's gin and tonic. To have a Bombay Safire blue would've killed our budget. The SA Rand is/was worth peanuts!

After a deliciously refreshing swim, we settled on the stoep for sundowners at six. As if on cue, a large herd of wildebeest came down to the watering hole, then some Springbok, Eland, giraffe and waterbuck. While some waited their turn, others quietly lapped water as the sun gently turned the sky pink, orange and magenta. The skittish Zebra were the last to appear, taking ages to find the courage (after all these eons) to take a few tentative steps forward. They still haven’t realised no one cares whether they do or don’t, except the predators of course. Vulnerablility is so imprinted in their DNA.

The following day, we unhitched our iron steeds and went for a ride. My stiff limbs regained their mojo after a few kilometres as my muscle memory kicked in. Now here’s the surprise.

Butch and I had one of the best private game-viewing experiences imaginable. The Eland herd appeared like ghosts to cross our path, then springbok, a tortoise and a hare. We saw a few Rhino middens, birds and bees, flowers and trees. The littlies always fascinate and I couldn't resist the praying mantis. 

The road wound through red sand and rocky outcrops as we meandered along the perimeter fence. Our picnic was under an umbrella thorn tree, where we refreshed and wondered what might surprise us. It was a jolly ground squirrel perplexed by the alien intrusion. Thank goodness I had my bandana to cover my snozzle, when on a game farm or a cattle ranch there are plenty  of flies who can't resist a free ride on the human nose!

Various cultural and educational activities and game drives are available for guests to partake in. We opted for a Cheetah experience. Emily, my daughter-in-law, is passionate about Cheetahs, her favourite animal. I suppose, if truth be told, I wanted to impress her a little by showing off our unique experience and bragging about my photographs. Just a little bit. She was suitably impressed and quite envious too. Mission accomplished.

Sorry, Emily, you’re so good at everything. I needed this confidence booster.

Our charming, well informed guide told us about Cheetahs, their familial habits, hunting techniques and habitat. He had a practical knowledge of birds and answered my questions about the fauna and flora on the farm. 

Right next to the Honey B was a small tree-shrub with small, tightly packed, waxy leaves, which gave off a most rotten, putrid odour. It took us a while to realise the intermittend smell waftingi into the Badger was emitted by a shrub and not a decaying animal. Our guide called it a stinkbos, we've since seen this noxious shrub. It's the Noeniebos or Boscia foetida. We suspect it releases the fetid odour much like the acacia tree does when it's over grazed by giraffe. The leaves become bitter and unpalatable to the giraffe. They move on to other trees thus preventing the acacia from being chomped to extinction. Clever how nature works. Trees are ruthless when it comes to protecting themselves. 

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When dinner on the stoep is offered by a lovely waitron it is incredibly difficult to decline. After a few cocktails we succumbed and had supper with other guests. The supper menu is a three-course meal, which I enjoyed. Not lavish or ostentatious, and I would say it was good traditional Sunday fare. The sunsets are golden, casting the landscape in a burnished hue while the moon rose full. Who could possibly ask for more?

Butch could have his favourite venison steak, Gemsbok, and I enjoyed my pork fillet with mustard sauce. The pumpkin was heaven on a plate. If you’re South African, you might still remember your Granny’s soet pampoen you’ll know what I’m talking about. Glassy Boer Pampoen cubes, sweet and buttery with a good sprinkling of cinnamon. The best part are those sticky, slightly burnt, caramelised tendrils you only know about when your teeth catch. The baked pudding with custard rounded the whole affair off perfectly.

There are only two campsites, both suitable for big rigs. Electricity was supplied, and each campsite had its private ablution. Unfortunately, the geyser, in ours was out of order, so we had the unfortunate pleasure of a cold shower. Butch didn’t mind; he’s hot-blooded. I’m not that keen. 

Large trees on emerald lawns cool things down and make for pleasant dining at the braai. The gardens are lush with the abundant water supply.

All the staff at Lapa Lang that we encountered were lovely. Magda and Lizell went out of their way to accommodate us, help us and inform us about the farm, its history and the story behind it. We felt at home immediately.

I had some admin to catch up with, and without hesitation, a table was cleared for me near an electrical point so I could plug in. The restaurant staff were excellent and provided me with coffee and a crispy, melt-in-the-mouth toasty oozing with yumminess when I ordered. Around me, the buzz of new guests arriving, menu options being discussed, and guides doing their introductions carried on as usual. There was a well-oiled machine going about its business and proving the argument that well-informed, trained staff are enthusiastic, keen and an asset to any company.

On the man-made lake and watering hole there were numerous acquatic birds bobbing about. The ducks, geese, red-knobbed coot, white faced duck, and Egypian geese (ducks-in-denial) paddled about happily.

It is butterfly season and as we know worms turn into crysalis which morph into  moths, who are annoying, especially since we had no idea how to combat them. They love red wine which will not be tolerated by lovers of the fermented grape, lights don't attrack them and I hesitate to add Doom doesn't effect them at all. We were inundated by them at times. 

By the sound of things we knew we were in Namibia where the majority of guests are German, French, Spanish, Dutch with a liberal sprinkling of Belgium. Lapa Lange will definitely be one of our favourite stopovers and recommendations to travellers in future. We set off and immediately felt at home as the first, of many, mule drawn "karretjies" clip-clopped in their zig-zaggy way along the road.

Lapa Lange Guest lodge

https://gamelodgenamibia.com/