All’s Well That Ends Well

We had been so looking forward to camping on the banks of the Kwando River at Nambwa camp. Stew and Gill’s time there had sounded magical. If only the officials at Bwabwata National Park had warned us about the roads…

Very much like Robert Frost’s dilemma (with a few African adaptations):

Two roads diverged into a riverbed

And sorry we could not travel both,

And be one traveller, long we stood

And looked down one as far as we could

To where it bent along the river;

Then took the other, just as fair…

… which turned out to be a foolhardy decision.

Now this was a road worth approaching with caution and reservation. As we progressed further along the riverbed, the sand got deeper, the swerves more frantic and the chances of getting stuck an ever-growing reality. And then there was a dull thud as the undercarriage came to rest snugly on the middelmannetjie (although the diminutive is inappropriate in this instance). We looked at each other with big eyes. Wat nou?

We shifted into self-help gear: Anton got the Maxtrax; I wielded the spade.

Anton engaged low range and put foot. No go…just an alarming grinding sound and a shower of sand as the wheels whirred us ever deeper into the mire.

Plan B: phone a friend. This was starting to feel familiar. However, the lack of phone signal made that idea redundant. Thank heavens for our nifty little WiFi gadget that we had bought in Swakopmund. An emergency WhatsApp call was made to Marion: the old ballies were stuck again. She phoned head office in Windhoek who organised a rescue mission from the camp. It would take a while, we were told.

About an hour later, we heard the rumble of an engine. Hooray! Help was at hand.

Furious digging ensued…

…and the snatch strap was attached to the Land Cruiser…

…and we were in business. Maybe we’d see the sunset from our camp after all.

Except…the rescue vehicle also go stuck.

And the clouds were gathering.

May Day, May Day – two vehicles down in the riverbed. The feedback was basically: suck it up. The other vehicles were all out on game drives. So, there we sat. And sat. And sat. The sun set and night set in.

Eventually, at 7.30, more help arrived. A decision was made to pursue the rescue operation in the light of day, so we were plucked out of our sandy hollow and deposited into tented nirvana:

That night, as I snuggled into the Egyptian cotton linen, Anton at my side and the sound of the scops owl my lullaby, I counted my many blessings.

We woke to a magnificent view of the Kwando river and the surrounding plains. The second rescue attempt was successful, and we were soon on our way. This time we took the road more travelled, and that made all the difference.