We are discovering that Namibia is a busy place. The campers we speak with have said they are headed for the coast. We decide to go the opposite direction and head inland.

Within a day’s drive from the Sand Sea is Lake Oanob and if you are guessing that a large body of fresh cool water sounds refreshing after the dunes, you’d be right. Fresh food in the nearby town of Rehoboth is available and we stock up – it’s been raisins and crackers and no beer for a couple of days.

At the lake, being Sunday afternoon, there is lots of activity on the water. By Monday, there is no one. We hike the Zebra trail (and see zebra) then rent a canoe and paddle all around the lake. A cormorant nesting colony sits on a rocky island. There are a couple of white pelicans and lots of herons. No wind, puffy white clouds – it’s a lovely afternoon.

But we can’t stay at the lake indefinitely. It is time to stop procrastinating; April 15 is looming and that means income taxes, and that means a room in town. Not to hurry, though; we drift down the road to Rooisands camp – we will get to a city soon enough. Rooisands has the reputation of excellent stargazing, there is even an observatory on sight. It is not the best time of year for gazing (although the stars are glorious) and there is no one at the camp but us. Until some surprise guests show up for dinner!

Big black shapes appear out of the dark – whoa, those weren’t there a minute ago, I’m sure of that. The shapes move about – it is four big Ostrich! Their long necks gape over the bushes like they are asking what’s for dinner. Though technically Ostrich aren’t birds, they are fine drinking out of the bird waterer. The dominant male puts on a show, fluffing his feathers and reaching out to try and taste us. Their beaks are like hedge clippers, a bite from them would really hurt.

The next morning all four of them appear again out of nowhere and it is plain that campers feed them. They hang around and preen and while preening, they drop numerous feathers, which I cannot wait to snatch up. But the ostrich don’t leave, and I’m sure I don’t want to get too close. Finally they wander off and Jim stands guard for me as I fetch up a handful of fresh feathers. Feathers are better than rocks on the dashboard.

We wander down the road all of 20 kilometers to Rooiklips camp where they are surprised to see anyone at the crack of 11:30am. It is early to set up camp so we order a cola and hang around the reception. The open-air room is made of the most common medium, rock, plus rough concrete with tree limb beams. Rock steps are scattered about with no regard for safety. The bar where business is transacted is a huge slap of stone with four stools that sit like barrels of oil, no foot rest nor any support if one should topple over. At what appears to be the local’s table, a very weathered man sits, wearing only jean shorts. It’s difficult to judge his age; his tanned skin sits on him like a shrunken suit and he is smoking like it’s the cure. Grasping his ankle for dear life is a 10-day old baby baboon wearing a diaper. At not even noon, beers are flowing. We sit down to take it all in.

Soon a charming fellow about our age joins us; he staying in one of the bungalows. Conversation usually begin with a hello, where are you from? He nods when we tell him we are from the US, “Trump land,” he says regretfully. He tells us he is from Munich; do you know it? he asks – all I can think of is the Munich Olympics – Jim smiles and says, oh yes, Oktoberfest! So the conversation goes. As it turns out, this fellow is an astronomer and comes to Namibia to service and repair astronomy equipment. We speak of the wonder of the stars and the vast distances that preclude any Star Trek time travel. He tells us of a pair of stars that will collide one day and in colliding will create an energy force that will destroy Earth’s atmosphere in an eye blink, and then all of this will be over. I’ve heard of this scenario and don’t doubt it to be true. But isn’t it wonderful that we can know that? I ask. He says, are you religious? Not at all, just happy to gaze at stars and feel small, we say. It was a lovely and intimate conversation in this extraordinary place we have found ourselves in.