Along
Namibia’s northern coastline, a strip of wilderness separates the sea from
the Namib Desert. Known as the Skeleton Coast, this is one of the
country’s most captivating regions, and is most rewarding when you get to
know it intimately. Story and pictures by Amy Schoeman.
The Skeleton Coast, a remote desert region
situated in the north-western corner of Namibia, is undoubtedly one of the
world’s most pristine and remarkable wilderness areas. Once feared for its
treacherous coastline, it is now prized as a place of solitude, beauty and
tranquillity.
It was an aircraft mishap that gave the
region its evocative and descriptive name. When Swiss pilot, Carl Nauer,
disappeared off the coast in 1933, local journalist Sam Davis, covering the
event for Reuters and the Cape Argus, suggested that Nauer’s bones might
one day be found on the “Skeleton Coast”, the graveyard of ships and
men.
The creation of the Skeleton Coast Park dates
back to 1963 when, primarily for political reasons, the narrow tract of coastal
desert, 500 kilometres long and 30 to 40 kilometres wide, was set aside as a
future nature reserve. In 1971 it was proclaimed as a park, with the northern
section designated to be managed as a wilderness reserve.
My first visit to the area was in 1977, when as photographer and
journalist for the then Department of Nature Conservation and Tourism, I went
to obtain material for an article on the park. It was on this trip that I met
my late husband, Louw Schoeman, who had been awarded a concession earlier that
year to practise a limited and controlled form of tourism in the wilderness
section.
That first visit made a visual impact which,
over the next 16 years, drew me back again and again with my camera and
notebook to record its many wonders. There seemed to be no end to the diversity
of colour, texture and form, the ever-changing patterns of light and shadow
created by the interplay of wind, sand and coastal fog. Capturing the graphic
and atmospheric qualities of the landscape, with its ever-changing moods and
aura of mystery, developed into a creative outlet and all-absorbing
passion.
Louw’s belief in the therapeutic and
perspective-giving qualities of the area and his intense interest in its
ecology and history were infectious. I too became fascinated by the climate and
biodiversity, the multitude of shipwrecks lying scattered for miles along the
deserted shores and the intriguing stories surrounding the exploration, mining
and prospecting efforts of man, so many of which ended in disaster.
Approximately 120 million years ago, when the supercontinent of
Gondwanaland began to break apart, the African and South American continents
gradually came into being. A narrow strip of coast, bordered in the west by the
Atlantic Ocean and in the east by a mountain escarpment, was formed on the
south-western seaboard of Africa. This tract of land, some 2,000 kilometres
long and 100 kilometres wide, was destined to become the Namib Desert as we
know it today.
The Skeleton Coast comprises the
northern Namib Desert, extending from the Kunene River in the north to Cape
Cross in the south. An interesting geological feature is the white
“castles” or “temples” of the Hoarusib Canyon, exotic
formations of whitish-yellow sedimentary clay.
Saltpans occur sporadically all the way up the coast. The larger ones are at
Cape Cross and Cape Frio, where an extensive brine-pan complex covers an area
almost 90 kilometres long.
Dunes are a living and
integral part of the Skeleton Coast. They roar and rumble, smoke and wander,
giving profile to the landscape and presenting an ever-changing cosmos of
colour and contour. A captivating formation is the barchan, a crescent-shaped
dune that forms where sand is relatively scarce. Built by the strong south-west
winds, barchans move in a north-easterly direction at speeds varying from two
to three metres a year, covering and uncovering whatever lies in their
path.
A strange phenomenon present in many of the
larger barchans is that they make a rumbling or roaring sound when the build-up
of sand on the crest reaches the point at which it slides down the slipface.
The warmer and drier the cascading sand, the greater the roar, the loudest
sound coming from the crescent-shaped “amphitheatre” of the
dune.
The Benguela Current is the prime determinant
of the climate of the Skeleton Coast. Its icy waters flow from Antarctica
towards the southernmost tip of Africa and up the west coast. The current
generates cold sea breezes and the fog bank that hangs over the ocean close to
the coast on most days. The Benguela’s upwelling system promotes the
production of phytoplankton, which in turn produces high levels of zooplankton.
These sustain an abundance of pelagic (open sea) fish species such as pilchard,
anchovy and horse mackerel.
Because the Namib is kept
moist by dew and coastal fogs, it hosts an unusually diverse plant community
with a large number of endemic species. Subjected to extreme temperatures,
strong winds and encroaching sands, these plants have ensured their survival by
developing a wide spectrum of ingenious adaptations centred around the
acquisition, retention and storage of moisture.
A
well-known example is the living fossil plant, Welwitschia mirabilis, which
absorbs moisture through millions of stomata on its leaf surfaces. The
Commiphora species, most of which grow as squat, low-spreading shrubs and have
aromatic resins, produce leaves only when it has rained, shedding them soon
after.
The Bushman’s Candle, Sarcocaulon,
retains moisture in its resin-like tubular stems, while the outlandish
Elephant’s Foot, Adenia pechuelii, conserves moisture in its pachypodous
trunk.
One of the most rewarding experiences in the
desert is looking at a plant, an insect or sand through a magnifying glass. A
small nondescript flower can be magically transformed into an exotic orchid and
a lichen-encrusted rock into a shimmering segment of multi-coloured coral. The
incredible camouflage of the Stone Cricket can be fully appreciated only when
scrutinised from close by and, when magnified, a section of sand turns into a
microcosmos of sparkling gemstones.
Contrary to the
misconception that, because it is a desert, the Skeleton Coast can become
unpleasantly hot, temperatures are relatively cool and moderate during the
summer months, rarely exceeding 30°C. The difference between summer and
winter temperatures is slight and, paradoxically, the highest temperatures
— up to 40°C and over — are recorded during the winter months
when the hot easterly wind blows from the interior.
Annual rainfall figures at the Skeleton Coast vary between 15mm and 25mm.
Precipitation occurs in a few widely separated showers, usually as not much
more than a drizzle. Heavy downpours are rare and tend to occur further inland.
They cause “barren” plains to come to life within days as grass
cover, succulents, shrubs and new plant growth appear, seemingly from
nowhere.
To the uninitiated the wealth of fauna at
the Skeleton Coast comes as a revelation. The courses of the rivers that drain
west towards the sea have relatively rich resources of vegetation and
subterranean water. These sustain larger mammals such as elephant, giraffe,
black rhino and lion, smaller species such as porcupine, genet, caracal and
Cape hare, and many species of birds. Springbok, ostrich and gemsbok are
especially characteristic of the gravel plains.
Using windblown detritus from the interior as food and ocean fog as moisture, a
remarkable community of interdependent dune-dwelling insects, reptiles and
small mammals with specialised adaptations has evolved in the dunes.
Thermoregulation, coloration, breeding strategies and nomadism have ensured the
survival of a surprising variety of desert birds.
The
beaches are kept clean by ghost crabs, jackal and brown hyaena. Coastal birds
find their sustenance in the Benguela Current’s rich plankton and pelagic
resources, which also support several seal colonies.
This is the world I grew to love and appreciate over many years, a world in
which the smallest component has a value and every drop of water counts. In
international travel circles Louw’s safaris became known as a unique
desert experience, and the Skeleton Coast as a region for travellers who
specialised in unspoilt and out-of-the-way destinations. Today, because of its
outstanding scenic attributes and fragile ecology, the area is regarded by
conservationists locally and abroad as a potential World Heritage Site.
Amy Schoeman is a regular contributor to Travel Africa. She is a
well-known Namibian photographer, writer and author whose work has been
published and exhibited around the world.
WRECKS OF THE
SKELETON COAST
ting back to the era when the Portuguese
seafarers and spice traders of the Dutch East India Company sailed around the
Cape to India, countless ships have come to grief along the treacherous shores
of the Skeleton Coast. However, due to the relentless pounding of the Atlantic
waves, gale-force winds and blasting sheets of flying sand, few have remained
intact.
The Skeleton Coast’s best-known
shipwreck is that of the Dunedin Star, a British cargo vessel which ran aground
some 40 kilometres south of the Kunene River mouth one stormy night in
November, 1942.
This set a lengthy series of rescue
attempts in motion, ending in disaster for several of the aircraft, ships and
vehicles involved.
A rescue tug, the Sir Charles
Elliott, ran onto the rocks before reaching the stranded ship, losing two of
its crew members who attempted to swim ashore. A Ventura bomber, having dropped
supplies on the beach for the 63 castaways, nose-dived into the sea on its way
back to Walvis Bay. The three airmen escaped miraculously from the fuselage
when it surfaced, and even more miraculously, found their way on foot to the
overland rescue convoy. This arrived in Windhoek with the castaways on
Christmas Eve, 26 gruelling days after the Dunedin Star had first run aground.
Today only the disintegrating remains of a fuel tank, part of the Dunedin
Star’s cargo, can be seen embedded in the sand 80 kilometres south of the
Kunene mouth. On the beach between Rocky Point and Möwe Bay lies the
rusting engine of the Ventura bomber.
A relatively
well-preserved wreck is that of the Montrose, which stranded in June 1973 and
today lies embedded on a sandy beach near Terrace Bay. Just north of Möwe
Bay, washed up on a pebbly beach, is the hull of the Suiderkus, beached on her
maiden voyage in 1976, and further north are the burnt remains of the fishing
boat, Karimona, wrecked in September 1971.
The
rusting skeleton of the Girdleness, which ran onto the rocks in November 1975,
can be seen south of the Ugab River mouth, and 25 kilometres further north is
the disintegrating hull of the Benguela Eagle, also wrecked in
1975.
The wreck which possibly personifies the
loneliness of Namibia’s coast best is that of the Eduard Bohlen, a steamer
that ran aground at Conception Bay, 100 kilometres south of Walvis Bay, in
1909. Its rusting remains lie partially buried in the sand several metres
inland from the present shoreline. North of Lüderitz, embedded on a small
sandy beach in Spencer Bay, lies the disintegrating skeleton of the Otavi,
which flounded in 1945. Located in the Sperrgebiet (Diamond Area), both these
wrecks are best viewed from the air. SKELETON COAST
FACTFILE
Access: Only one company is granted a concession to
operate in the area of Skeleton Coast National Park north of Seal Point, in the
area commonly known as the Skeleton Coast Wilderness. Even then this is
limited. But several others operate into the southern reaches of the park and
the region between Henties Bay and the national park. In the main, these tours
can be particularly fascinating and are highly recommended. Many of the wrecks
are also not accessible without permission from high authorities, which may be
a good thing given that visitors have been known to cause damage by climbing on
them.
