We take the long route – beset by flooded roads, flooded rivers and semi-bad decisions, it is a wonder we made it.

Oue first riverbed drive enroute is a sweet experience, baiting us to do more. Nice sandy tracks with overhanging trees adding to the ambiance. We stop for a leisurely breakfast and vow to keep on with this riverbed driving; it’s great. Only the track eventually goes from sand to a fine powdery dust. In the rear view mirror there is nothing but a dense dust cloud and you know it is blowing into every crevice. Just as the end is in sight we bury the Beagle in the biggest hole in the road (cleverly hidden) and a tidal wave of dust comes over the bonnet and through the aircon, blasting into the cabin. We can’t breath or see or stop. We ride the wave onto firm ground and come to a halt. Mind you, we are only in second gear, going maybe 15k at the most. It doesn’t matter. We may as well have shoveled the dust/dirt into the cab and all over the truck, and oh, let’s not forget about the engine compartment. It is coated with dust like it was spray painted on.

We limp into Sesfontein, a tiny town with fuel. There’s a guy riding a galloping donkey down the main street – he is bareback on the ass end going hell bent for leather. There’s a post office that is closed for lunch. At the small safari lodge the guys who hook up a hose for us are happy to wash the truck. You might think “what’s a little dirt on a safari rig?” How wrong you would be. We can hardy get near the Beagle, it is so filthy, and to touch the dust is to spread it further. The propane tanks are invisible under the brown stain and the spare tire had an inch of dirt on it. Opening the back would be like sleeping naked on the ground, there would be so much dust on the bed. Nope, getting it washed is money well spent. Sorry, no photos!

Not to be discouraged, we head for another riverbed drive. Halfway there, a localized rain and hail storm creates first a wet road, then a riverbed road, and finally an entire lake of water to drive through in order to reach the town of Puros. The pan lake is kilometers long – the only way to determine where to drive is to look for the deepest water with the most waves in it as the roadbed is slightly lower than the pan itself. We wild camp after the deluge, finding a drowned scorpion right next to the truck.

And if we’d been two hours earlier, we would have sailed across the formerly dry riverbed bordering Puros. As it was, the river Hoarusib flooded for the first time in years, and it was roaring. The smell of the water was the scent of primordial ooze. Stuck on the other side is a Land Cruiser four-door towing a heavy trailer on a guided trip. The Congo-born Belgium guide wades over to our side and is adamant that the current was deep and strong. We park under the only tree and wait with another couple in a rental Land Cruiser, Sven and Bridget. Problem is, with this river flooded, the riverbed is undriveable, and that is what we are here for. We decide to turn around. We’d regret that but not as much as the guides towing the trailer – they decide to cross, and while the crossing is successful and exciting, on the shore the engine quits. Something electrical has gotten wet. Their truck is ruined. We towed it to shade for them and move on.