Epupa Falls, Cunene River, border of Namibia and Angola, and a wonder to behold. We don’t know a lot about it and the surprise of how big it is, and how many baobab trees line its banks is worth the drive. We’d been wild camping for so long, the laundry has piled up to a half day’s project that I am dreading. Epupa Falls camp has plenty of water (none of it potable) and plenty of room to take care of this chore, but who wants to do that when there’s so much else to  do? Enter Marianna! She came up to us as I was pondering setting up the wash station, asking if we had any work or laundry for her, please?  Oh, yeah. She took it all and I was free. Her daughter and I walked into the village and purchased some staples for the family – I had learned from our Himba guide that villagers like maize (a 10 kilo bag that an 8-year old carried on her head, sorry, no photo), sugar, and laundry soap. Give when you can.
The map shows the road from Epupa to Rucana to be 93 kilometers – and to take 10 hours! Good god. That is frightening even by African standards. But because of the military presence on the border the road has been “improved” and the time cut in half. Still it’s a mean ride. Halfway to Rucana, we pull into a tropical paradise camp on the Cunene and there we meet up with our river crossing compatriots, Sven and Bridget. They had waited out the water level and crossed the next day with no problem. So we learn we could have waited, and not had to spend the night out in the rough brush on a squirrel track to nowhere, in the pouring rain. Oh well. The four of us share a sundowner boat ride and dip our feet in Angolan sand. Darkness is a cacophony of frogs, night birds and who knows what else all night long. Next day, we take the refrigerator out of the Beagle and Jim works on it for hours in the heat. The fan is shorting out – he jury-rigs a fix and on we go.

Etosha National Park – April 30
Namibia’s crown jewel. As big as Yellowstone, if Yellowstone were flattened with a warped rolling pin. The Park border fence is lined with giraffe and zebra, and we make our first mistake. Instead of waiting outside the park for a new day to begin, we charge in and get a permit for four days starting now. The very friendly but not-so-helpful park permit man (I hesitate to call him a ranger) says it’s no problem to make it to the first camp by sundown. Camps are fenced and gated and no one wants to be outside the gate at night. Before we can get going we are met by the Namibian police – they, as always, ask us where we are coming from (we usually can’t remember) and where are we going (we usually don’t know). They ask if we have a “drone-y”. Of course we don’t declare the drone, who knows what that would mean. Then they tell us we will have to drive 60k an hour or more to make camp. What?? It’s nearly 4pm, there are animals everywhere and the road is the dreaded Namibian washboard. 10 kilometers later, we give up and return to the West gate, finding camping right outside the park and giving up a night on our permit. We were seduced by the giraffe and zebra – we own that – but ill-advised by the help. Live and learn.

Entering the next morning, we find the Park thick with high brush and grass – and there is water in every low spot. Probably the worst of game spotting conditions, but there’s a family of elephants with babies to watch, and the zebra and wildebeest are frisky in the cool morning. All in all, Etosha gave up scores of birds, zebra and giraffe, and a special sighting of a male and female lion. The male picked up what looked like a side of zebra and carried it off; the female was barely visible in the long grass – a good reason to sleep inside  a gated camp. That said, camping is marginal in the Park; expensive by Africa standards for a parking lot experience. We stop at a store about halfway through and two days in, and I decide not to buy anything, unwisely figuring that the next store will carry the same stuff. How wrong could I be? Mistake number two. Buy it if you need it at the first place you find it; never assume you will find it again – unless it is Eat-Sum-More cookies which are piled high everywhere. Good thing we like them. Sometimes they are dinner.