We had been driving for four hours and hadn’t seen a soul. No people. No cars. Just an eerie, dimly lit emptiness that stretched southward to the horizon. Desert to the left, the sea to the right. A compacted salt road, a thin gap between the two. Under the gray sky, the surfaces of all three faded into an indistinguishable gray-brown mass.
We were traveling on Namibia’s Skeleton Coast, known to many as the end of the earth.
Looking out the dusty windshield, the name seems apt. The unspoiled Skeleton Coast stretches 500km south from the Namibian-Angolan border in the north to the former German colonial town of Swakopmund, where street-side bakeries and beer gardens still line the streets and where German soldiers massacred tens of thousands of Herero and Nama Africans a century ago.
The port town of Swakopmund was founded as a German imperial colony in 1892, and German cultural influences are still evident in the language and architecture. Two thousand Herero were killed by German troops in a concentration camp here during the Herero War in the early 1900s. Years later, it became a tourist destination mainly for white Namibians.
The port town of Swakopmund was founded as a German imperial colony in 1892, and German cultural influences are still evident in the language and architecture. Two thousand Herero were killed by German troops in a concentration camp here during the Herero War in the early 1900s. Years later, it became a tourist destination mainly for white Namibians.
It’s a region that combines a variety of cultures, landscapes and species like no other on Earth, and at times, it feels like a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
My partner and I were driving along the C34 highway through this remote and forbidding land, midway through a three-week trip across Namibia in early 2021. A year earlier, we had begun a new life, leaving our homes and jobs in Seattle to travel the world, only to have our journey abruptly cut short by a global lockdown just weeks into our first destination, Portugal, which saw us spend seven months in lockdown.
A house in Swakopmund.
A house in Swakopmund.
As things slowly began to reopen in late 2020, we decided to give our original trip a try. But doing so required answering a few key questions: Which countries currently allow U.S. citizens to enter? (Very few.) Where would it be safe to go given the current COVID-19 cases, testing, and mask requirements? (Even fewer.) And most importantly, where would we go without overburdening a country’s health care system if we got sick?
The distinctive colour of the Walvis Bay salt pans in Namibia comes from the salt-growing algae Dunaliella.
The distinctive colour of the Walvis Bay salt pans in Namibia comes from the salt-growing algae Dunaliella.
Namibia quickly rose to the top of our list. As one of the least densely populated countries in the world, and allowing us to travel completely independently, it seemed like a good choice. However, we didn’t expect to be so impressed by the vastness and diversity of the landscape.
I knew very little about this country before setting my sights on it, and I immediately dove into its history and geography. While researching the Skeleton Coast, I read about the shipwrecks, the desolate landscapes, and the diamond mining in the 20th century, and I felt a fascination with it. Its wildness, its desolation, its mystery – it captured my imagination, and I knew I had to experience and photograph it.
The Ugabu Gate, the southern entrance to Skeleton Coast National Park, is decorated with a pair of skulls and whale bones to warn visitors of the harsh conditions they will face once they pass through.
The Ugabu Gate, the southern entrance to Skeleton Coast National Park, is decorated with a pair of skulls and whale bones to warn visitors of the harsh conditions they will face once they pass through.
We entered the gate to Skeleton Coast National Park near the Ugab River, guarded by two skulls with crossbones and a towering whale rib, a warning: “Abandon all hope, all who enter.”
Before entering the 16,000 square kilometers of protected coastline, we had to provide our names and information—just in case we couldn’t leave before nightfall—in exchange for a border crossing permit and a healthy dose of apprehension. Driving through the gate, we held our breath, clasped our hands, and prayed that our rental Toyota Hilux wouldn’t get a flat tire or that we wouldn’t be eaten by beach lions in the no-man’s land ahead.
Signposted off Highway C34. This road is also known as the Skeleton Coast Road.
Signposted off Highway C34. This road is also known as the Skeleton Coast Road.
This arid desert ends at the raging Atlantic Ocean, where many sailors, ships, planes and animals have perished. Rusted hulls, sun-bleached bones – their remains now serve as a reminder of the harsh natural conditions of this park. It is an uninhabitable place, with no vegetation and dangers aplenty, from turbulent rip currents to dense coastal fog.
Namibia has one of the lowest population densities in the world. (Its population is close to that of Houston, and its area is 18% larger than Texas.)
Namibia has one of the lowest population densities in the world. (Its population is close to that of Houston, and its area is 18% larger than Texas.)
The park’s coastline is dotted with scattered shipwrecks that attract visitors. Although only a few are still visible, hundreds of ships have come to an end along this coast and have been slowly consumed by nature. Some of the wreck sites can only be reached by plane or four-wheel drive.
In the far north, traces of the Dunedin Star still remain. The British Blue Star liner ran aground in 1942, leaving 106 passengers and crew stranded. An aircraft and a tugboat, as well as several crew members, were also lost during the rescue operation. In the south, the Edward Boren freighter, which ran aground in 1909, can now be seen from a quarter of the way inland, like a ghost ship surrounded by desert.
The wreck of the Southwest Seal, a fishing vessel that disappeared in 1976.
The wreck of the Southwest Seal, a fishing vessel that disappeared in 1976.
We were able to see the remains of the South West Seal, which crashed on shore in 1976. All that remained was bits of wood and rusted metal sticking out of the sand. And the Zeila, a fishing trawler that ran aground near Henties Bay in 2008, was just offshore, gradually corroding but visible and largely intact, and now home to dozens of black cormorants.
The few man-made traces here were in a state of decay: road signs faded and decayed, abandoned oil rigs little more than piles of rusted iron eroded by time, sand, and sea breezes. I stopped every few minutes to capture these details with my camera, extending what should have been a six-hour journey to 11 hours.
The Cape Cross Seal Sanctuary is one of the largest seal colonies in the world. More than 200,000 seals occupy the sanctuary's coastline, thrilling visitors with their stench and calls.
The Cape Cross Seal Sanctuary is one of the largest seal colonies in the world. More than 200,000 seals occupy the sanctuary’s coastline, thrilling visitors with their stench and calls.
Along the way, we passed other wonders, including the seal sanctuary at Cross Point, home to more than 200,000 smelly seals, and the Walvis Bay Salt Works, where large salt pans are bright pink from the presence of microorganisms called Dunaliella salina. Equally pink flamingos foraged for shrimp in nearby wetlands. Makeshift tables lined the road north of Swakopmund; on them lay dozens of pale pink halite crystals, and there was often a rusty money box nearby, waiting for honest passersby to leave a few bucks in exchange for their treasures.
Head west from the Springbok Watergate into the Skeleton Coast National Park.
Head west from the Springbok Watergate into the Skeleton Coast National Park.
What remains of an old oil rig is corroded by salt, sand and seawater.
What remains of an old oil rig is corroded by salt, sand and seawater.
Skulls of gemsbok — a cattle-like African antelope — and other animals were attached to wooden posts along the highway.
Skulls of gemsbok — a cattle-like African antelope — and other animals were attached to wooden posts along the highway.
The barren land gave the feeling of an otherworldly world, raw and powerful. It was exciting and terrifying. The coastline and colors slowly changed, the sand turned red, and we continued south into the Namib-Naukluft National Park, home to the world’s oldest desert, the Namib Desert.
The Namib Desert is at least 55 million years old and bears the same name as the young country it calls home (Namibia gained independence in 1990). Over millions of years, its towering dunes sank into the churning sea.
When we chose this lonely part of the world, it awaited us with great loneliness and alienation. This is what we were after – escape from human-borne diseases, yes, but also from the hardships of our daily lives. Namibia made us feel small and insignificant in the best way – a feeling I often crave in a world full of instant gratification and constant demands for my attention. In the end, the Skeleton Coast is a strange and beautiful reminder that we humans are powerless in the face of time, and that in the war between man and nature, nature always wins.
At dusk, Dune 7 towers over the world's oldest desert. At more than 382 meters high, it is the tallest sand dune in Namibia.
At dusk, Dune 7 towers over the world’s oldest desert. At more than 382 meters high, it is the tallest sand dune in Namibia.