The REAL Windy City

Bruno and I decided to make a detour to Luderitz on our way south because we wanted to smell the ocean breeze and get relief from the hot, dry heat of the interior.  What we got was slightly more than we had bargained for. 

For those of you who think of Chicago as the Windy City, think again.  It’s Luderitz, hands down.  The wind is spectacular here, unrelenting, already strong in the morning, yet somehow gaining more strength as the day progresses.  By the afternoon, this icy wind reaches 80kmph, making outside living – which is kind of the point of camping – impossible.  At night, the wind shakes the camper van – sometimes so much that it’s like a dinosaur rubbing up against the vehicle – and the idea of stepping outside to wash dishes, brush teeth, or use the toilet doesn’t seem worth it. 

Now, one might expect this kind of wind at our campsite, which is an exposed peninsula jutting out into the ocean off Luderitz.  But one would also expect to find relief inside the town.  Yet, as you wander around the streets, gusts of wind fly around corners, tunneling through the streets, between buildings, and over and under vehicles,  knocking sand into your eyes, ears, mouth, and any other crevice exposed.  I can’t stop finding sand on my body, and no sooner do I clean myself up do I find sand on and in me again!

I have decided that Namibia is uninhabitable.  You just can’t live here.  Most of the country is covered by rocky, arid mountains or sandy, parched desert.  The brutal African sun beats down, radiating on the already-scorched earth, and making everything unbearably hot.  Respite from this heat is difficult to find, as even in the shade, the warm wind finds you, and the sizzling ground emits its heat onto you.

So you head for the coast, the obvious solution to this heat problem.  Yet here, the weather gets you again, scoffing at you as it sends you its bone-chilling winds. 

How do people live here?  No wonder the population of Namibia is not much more than 2 million people.

We stayed in Luderitz for a few days, making the most of the “calm” mornings by walking out onto the rocky beach surrounding our campsite and watching birds and waves, then walking into the city to run errands or sit at a café of this very German, very 20^th century, town.  Waiting for the wind to die down long enough for us to be proper tourists.  But after 3 days, we learned that the wind wasn’t going to die down.  Not until March, anyway.  This is a Luderitz summer; the wind is created by the cold Atlantic current hitting such a hot, hot land.  Their winter, from March until August, has much calmer winds due to cooler land temperatures.  But in place of the wind is often fog so dense it often doesn’t clear until late afternoon.

And so we decided to try and be tourists anyway.   We visited Kolmanskop, an old diamond-town-turned-ghost-town 14km east of Luderitz.  The entire Southwest region – and in fact, truly the entire country – was colonized by Germany due to its diamonds.  Kolmanskop became a boom town in the late 19^th century, and at its peak held 300 German adults and their 44 children.  In the 1920s, when diamonds were found further south, people slowly left Kolmanskop, and the town’s final inhabitants departed in 1956.  As I walked around this abandoned town slowly being engulfed by the Namib Desert, I could feel the presence of these people, the shadows of their glamorous, diamond-filled lives.  For it was evident that the Germans lived well here.  Families had their own homes, were delivered free ice, drinking water, and bread every morning, and had access to a bakery, butcher and general store (which sold imports from Germany, England, and South Africa).  For fun, there was a bowling alley and a casino-cum-theater, which often hosted performers flown in from Germany.  There was a school and a rather large hospital, which interestingly housed Southern Africa’s first x-ray machine – though it was more for scanning potentially-smuggling-employees than for x-raying broken bones!

Just beyond the historical, tourist part of the town is where the mine workers lived.  Visibly set apart from the German area of town, I imagine that these people – black Africans – often looked over to the other end of town, longingly wanting a sample of beer, bread, or ice, or a game of poker or bowling.  Begrudgingly, I imagine, these workers cursed their masters, who were evidently reaping great wealth from these strange, shiny carbon stones that had been gathered through the toil and sweat of those who gained little rewards from them.

Even today, diamond mining is huge in the region.  NAMDEB, Namibia’s largest mining company, is owned 50/50 by the Namibian government and famous South African company DeBoers.  The entire southwest coast of Namibia, below Luderitz all the way to the border, is a restricted diamond zone called the Sperrgetbiet.  No one, except for NAMDEB employees, can wander upon this land, with few exceptions.  Kolmanskop is one such exception, but requires a special permit valid only within the gated-off ghost-town area.  Just beyond the gate is a heavy-duty security post for mine employees heading 30km south, to the closest active mine.  Trespassers will be prosecuted, with jail time or “worse”, as the guide book says. 

With this fatalistic thought in mind, Bruno and I headed out to the Luderitz Peninsula, west of the city, which briefly passes over the forbidden Sperrgetbiet territory.  I admit, there was a brief moment where I wanted to tell Bruno to turn left, onto the heavily-signed road into the Diamond Area.  Thankfully that moment passed, and we continued onto the peninsula to sample its spectacularly windswept coastal views.  We spent the day off-roading on this rocky, abandoned peninsula, meandering past salt water pans and jutting in and out of the coast to watch the white-headed waves violently crash onto the red-tinted rocks.  Briefly, as you look out at the coastline from the vehicle, you are misguided into the belief that outside it is warm.  The water is turquoise, the sun is shining, there isn’t a cloud in the sky… a perfect beach day, you say. 

Then you open the car door and gasp as it is almost ripped from the vehicle!  The gusts of wind bring instant goose bumps.  You don’t even test the water temperature, which you know to be a frigid 14 degrees.  You see jackass penguins, pink flamingos, and a few other sea birds, and you say out loud – “If I were a flamingo, I’d much rather live in Mozambique [where I saw them 6 months earlier] than here”.   But this statement is self-evident, and need not be pronounced.

I enjoyed my day on the peninsula, for I did see some stunning views of this unique coastal setting.  What I enjoyed less was holding on for dear life as I crossed a bridge and then climbed a staircase to visit a famous statue planted on a hill by a Portuguese explorer some 500 years ago.  Ok, it was a bit fun and exciting, but also more than a wee bit scary.  I exaggerate not when I state that, for the first time in my life, I was almost blown over by the wind, and that at times, walking forward was almost impossible.

It is time to leave Luderitz and its gusty winds.  We head back on the only road to Luderitz, thus forcibly back into the Namib Desert and the heat.  Perhaps I will appreciate it after all this wind?  I wonder…