Scrambled Eggs at Dune 45

Let’s deal with the facts first: Dune 45 is a 170-metre high sand dune in the Namib-Naukluft National Park in central Namibia.

Enough of the facts; everything else is pure sensation.

I began to scale the dune just before sunrise.  And, I wasn’t alone.  Dune 45 is a popular location. 

The ridge of the dune was a well-defined route, but sand-walking is not easy and the initial gradient quite steep.  An immense height of sand still stretched above me when I was forced to take my first rest; and my second one; and my third one.

The going was tough.  For every step forward in the soft sand, I seemed to take two back.

Rather ignominiously, I had to stand aside to be overtaken by a chattering group of middle-aged Korean women, each sporting natty fluorescent plastic gaiters over their footwear.

However, I did not mind being such a slowcoach up the dune.  The view from each stopping-point was spectacular, and I was still able to reach a good vantage point at the summit before the sun had fully risen.

The plain below was a vast, undulating, multicoloured landscape of unfathomable proportions.  Whilst, all around, there was nothing but sand.  Sand, golden in the sun.  Sand, dark in the shade.  Sand, pitted with deep footprints.  Sand, smooth, endless and untrodden.

A small, white beetle scurried across the sand’s surface, leaving its own neat set of tracks.

The Korean women had decided to go off-piste and were sliding down the side of the dune on their bottoms, amongst much noise and hilarity.

I stuck to the ridge, completed a leisurely descent, continually marvelling at the vast scale of this beautiful desert wilderness.

And, then, at the bottom of the dune, a surprise was awaiting me.  My guide had prepared an alfresco breakfast of freshly-cooked scrambled eggs and steaming hot baked beans, all to be eaten sitting on a folding camp-stool with a perfect view of Dune 45 in front of me.

It felt desperately colonial.  But, do you know what, I couldn’t have cared less.

© E. C. Glendenny

E. C. Glendenny is full of beans. And scrambled eggs.

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