The adventure started with the idea of Namibia. No cellphone reception, no computers, few people, fewer cars and a frosty here and there for good measure. Add to that a fully kitted BMW GS 1200 motorbike, a tent and a buddy prepared to ride alongside. Irresistible.
So much for my vision of perfection, I thought as we slewed our way in fading light along a rapidly deteriorating goat path up Burke's Pass near Springbok. The heavily laden motorbikes skidded alarmingly. More than half an hour ago we'd been told the campsite was "just down the road". Finally, a bakkie appeared and guided us into a beautiful valley where there was just enough light left to fumble our tents erect and flop down inside them. And we hadn't yet reached Namibia.
Dawn saw us heading up the N7 through Springbok and into Namibia. Destination, the Ai-Ais campsite in the Fish River Canyon - an easy day's ride. As we turned off the B1 on to the dusty C10, with the temperature in the 40s, we found a sign saying Ai-Ais was closed for renovation.
Fortunately a motorcyclist at Noord-oewer border crossing had alerted us to Ca241on Roadhouse further north. We blasted up the B1 as far as Grėnau then dived back on to dirt roads, finally reaching the roadhouse.
Heavily laden motorbikes on tar are one thing, but sand requires an entirely different mindset and riding style. although this wasn't the only problem - for the past 20km we'd had gemsbok, springbok, hartebeest and zebra wandering across our path.
The Fish River Canyon is about 25km from the roadhouse and evidently looks best in the early morning light. It's about 160km long and some 550m deep.
Sitting on the lip of the gorge in the sharp morning air, I could feel the world slowing down. This was the Namibia we'd fantasised about.
As we rode along the C14 via Helmeringhausen towards our next destination, Sossusvlei, the road deteriorated steadily, and it got hotter - imagine sticking a hairdryer up each nostril, adding a strong headwind, cranking up the oven to 42176C and throwing in handfuls of dust and grit.
After 12 hours in the saddle I saw a medieval fort, the appropriately named Le Mirage Hotel, whose policy forbade us from pitching tents but whose joint manager, Gareth Smith, let us use the spare staff bungalow - and invited us to stay on the next day.
The hotel borders the Namib-Naukluft Park and a few weeks earlier the whole area had been under water. The grassland had a strange, speckled appearance. "Fairy circles," said Gareth. These are almost perfect circles which Gareth said a two-year scientific study had been unable to explain.
We left our new friends in search of apple pie. Solitaire is at the junction of the C19 and C14, an eclectic mix of bush pub, restaurant, garage, general dealer and campsite. We found bits of rusting car artfully arranged, adding to the charm of this busy little outpost. Overland trucks had disgorged a United Nations of characters - Chinese, Dutch and French accents mixed with a deep Afrikaans baritone, all sitting around a braai toasting to adventure and eating Solitaire's famous apple pie.
Where to stay
