Namibia: The red earth of Wonderland

Take-off due north for Etosha Park, about two hours by air taxi from Windhoek International Airport, the capital of Namibia. Under the wings of the six-seater Cessna 210, including the pilot, the bush passes slowly by, always more or less the same, punctuated from time to time by isolated farms, sometimes intersected by a road and even more surely by endless tracks. The plane descends, skirting the white sand runway, as if to better appreciate it, makes a complete turn and, jostled by the wind, lines up awkwardly before landing its wheels on the stony ribbon. Suddenly, it's Africa. With impalas grazing peacefully along the runway - we later learn that this is why the plane negotiated the 380° turn, to make sure that no animal in search of human exoticism wanders over - with three Cessnas already landed, a toilet block and a big jeep waiting to take people to the lodge, five or six kilometres through the bush, and then late in the afternoon, into the reserve, for a very first safari.

Luxury on the savannah

First the lodge, Le Fort. Surreal luxury in the midst of this wilderness. The architecture is resolutely inspired by the ksars of southern Morocco, and the contemporary décor features beautifully designed rattan armchairs, beautifully crafted chairs, ponds, a swimming pool suspended above the savannah and a huge teak terrace where you can watch the wild animals at the watering hole. The rooms? There are a dozen bungalows fitted out as suites and so well laid out that they offer total privacy. In addition to the bathroom, there is an outside shower, with no walls at all, overlooking nature, as well as an open-plan bedroom, barely separated from the deck by curtains billowing in the wind. Peace on Earth sprinkled with a heavy dose of sensuality. But that's not why we made the trip, even if the quality of the hotels is now an integral part of the dream, of the art of living elsewhere... It's for the park that we came, for its wildlife, its flora, its landscapes... Because, stretching 300 km from east to west, and 110 km from north to south, the Etosha reserve is one of the largest in the world. And one of the most surprising too. At its centre is an ancient sea some twelve million years old, now dried up, and giving rise to an extraordinary clay depression swept at certain times of year by Dantesque tornadoes. It is also one of the richest in Africa, with the luxury of being home to 114 species of mammal and 340 species of bird. The result is herds of elephants and giraffes, hopping groups of impala, zebra, oryx, kudu, springbok, delightful dik-dik, one of the smallest antelopes in Africa, wildebeest, rhinoceros, lion, cheetah, leopard, ostrich... and jackals, and hyenas, and so many others, most of them unidentifiable by novices who have to listen to the rangers' informed comments.

Although most of the park is open to private vehicles, it is on board a 4×4 capable of carrying around twenty people that the adventure really comes into its own. You may have seen all the videos and documentaries on the subject, but there's nothing like the experience of a seasoned man in the field, a specially trained ranger who knows the animals' habits, their customs, even their idiosyncrasies and also their favourite places, given that all these beautiful people have not only their own hours, but also their own particular playgrounds. So one route will give you the best chance of spotting certain animals, while another will provide the best photos of a completely different type of wildlife. Not to mention the seasons, which bring with the rains hundreds of thousands of pink flamingos and crowned cranes that enchant the pan, in other words the famous, flat depression that is more than a million years old.

A German presence that has left its mark

It was in 1851 that the first white explorers discovered this extraordinary site. But it wasn't until 1907 that the German Governor of South West Africa, Dr F. von Lindequest, granted it nature reserve status. The Germans, to be precise. And they dotted the colonial Namibian landscape with Art Nouveau architecture mixed with Prussian classics, leaving the uninformed visitor stunned. But it has to be said that this reinterpretation of the Bismarckian look is a real surprise in the Tropic of Capricorn, where you'd expect to find other aesthetics. The same goes for gastronomy, which, in sync, easily indulges in spicy sausages. And then there's the typography: the commercial signs, which don't shy away from Gothic typefaces, are complemented by the language of the shopkeepers, who address shoppers primarily in German.

Swakopmund, for example. One of the most charming towns in the country, set between the desert and the ocean without the slightest transition, and where groups can arrive from Windhoek on an extraordinary luxury train, the Desert Express, which is fully or partially privatised. At the turn of the century, Swakopmund was a port. Today, it is a seaside resort much sought-after by the all-Windhoek crowd, a holiday destination where, like the highest Namibian authorities, it is appropriate to own a second home. However, with its perpetual fog and downright cold sea, the climate here is a little strange. So there's something else in Swakopmund. But what is it? In any case, there are these curious buildings, where only the façade counts, lined up along avenues pierced in Western style. There's that, and also some fine remains from the Prussian era, including the old bell-tower railway station (1901), now a luxury hotel, the Swakopmund Hotel. Finally, there's the seafront croisette, a sort of "German promenade", a Bavarian escape lined with palm trees and excellent seafood restaurants. Then there are the activities on offer in the sandy outskirts of the town. These include surfing and sand tobogganing, paragliding from the top of the dunes, quad biking, horse and camel riding, tandem parachute jumping, hot air ballooning...

The great sea lion show

There are the activities linked to the desert, of course, but there are also those inspired by the sea and the wildlife that has settled on Pelican Point, the aptly named, at the end of the roadstead of Walvis Bay, the country's largest port, half an hour's drive south of Swakopmund. The port itself, with its alternating containers and shacks and the unpleasant smell of rotting fish, is of little interest. So we cross it as quickly as we can, preferring the marina where small boats are waiting, ready for departure. And so it was under a low sky - the area is no exception to its reputation for fog - that a two or three hour mini-cruise began. Around thirty vessels, both fishing boats and container ships, are moored all over the bay. Some of them, three or four perhaps, are a sad sight. Their sides are eaten away by rust, their paint - but is it still paint? - has peeled off in the spray, their rigging jiggles in the swell, their flag is in tatters and, to top it all off, dozens of black cormorants perch on their sinking ropes... Grim. The skipper explained that the ships had been grounded there for weeks, if not months, with the crew confined to their boats, because of fishing nets that had been cast into prohibited waters. Suddenly, the skipper lets out some strange cries, somewhere between guttural and high-pitched. A signal. Immediately, pelicans that had been following from a distance approached heavily, beaks forward and legs tucked in, magnificent. They skim the edges, adjusting to the speed of the boat, which is going full throttle, and deftly seize the tense fish. They could put on a show like this for hours on end, never tiring of it; taking turns with each other, leaving, coming back, vying with each other to grab the delicious gift. But there's something even cheekier - and totally unexpected. These are the mischievous sea lions who take advantage of a slowdown to clumsily climb onto the boat's quarterdeck, then cross its entire length to take their turn at swallowing a fish in five seconds. Before giving the skipper a touching look to get a second one, which they always get... These sea lions are wild, though. But they are so close to men that they don't mind being stroked, delighted by their success...

Meanwhile, on the nearby shore, it's a real circus. There are no fewer than 20,000 sea lions in the area, making a total estimated at 650,000 on the entire Namibian coast. They scream, shout, chase each other, gesticulate, surf the waves, breed and fight for love. Each male has a harem of 20 to 50 females. You can imagine the intrigues, you can guess the stories... Hundreds of dolphins, as usual, jump close to the pleasure boats on which the agencies organise highly successful cocktail lunches.

Another must: the plane, for the most extraordinary of safaris, departing from Swakopmund's small airport and reaching Sossusvlei Lodge, at the gateway to the Namib, in 1 hour 30 minutes. First you drive along the coast, where the waves die and the desert dunes come to an abrupt halt. This is where thousands of sea lions still live, as well as a huge colony of pink flamingos. The pilot takes great pleasure in flying low, around 150 metres, to give his passengers a better view, and suddenly points his finger at the remains of a ship that ran aground there in 1976, now almost completely buried in the sand, far, far from the water. A testimony to the bad temper of the South Atlantic that bathes Namibia...

Splendours of the desert

Then eastwards, towards the desert, which for the moment is made up of mountains, valleys and completely bare plains. A complete turn, wings at 45° above an expanse of glistening white sand, and a second appearance, at least as improbable as that of the shipwrecked boat. This time it's a former diamond-mining village, a sort of half-sanded ghost, a vestige of the diamond rush that took place in Namibia between 1880 and 1930. And then, with the Dunes Corridor, comes the unheard-of, the splendour, the unreality of the beauty of the Earth as well as that of the oldest desert in the world... The red ochre of its dunes, their height, their appearance, their layout, their profile against a backdrop of purple mountains... It's Namibia as we've imagined it that unrolls below. And it won't be long before we get to grips with this unique geography, as the buildings of Sossusvlei Lodge come into view from the air.

A friendly lodge with 45 bungalows, half hard, half roofed, so perfectly suited to groups, on a plain dotted with acacia trees where ostriches strut their stuff. A waterhole, dug just in front of the terraces of the rooms, the restaurant and the bar, where, in keeping with German tradition, people like to linger over a beer, brings them together from time to time. This watering hole is lit up at night. And the lights are on again. So that the diners, who are also seated at an incredible buffet, can watch the tribulations of the nocturnal animals. Never too late. Because tomorrow, at dawn, when the light is crystal clear, all the 4×4s will leave the camp for a fantastic drive to Sossusvlei, one of Namibia's jewels; in this valley lined with dunes, some 300 metres high and the highest in the world. All these reds, oranges, apricots, pinks and purples, sometimes turning grey-blue; all these colours, the mountains of sand that follow one another in huge waves, owe their perfect grammar to the talent of the wind as well as to their composition: quartz, mica, garnet, ilmenite and magnetite. The exceptional red is due to the iron oxide that rusts under the effect of humidity. There's even an ancient lake, a near-perfect white disc edged in red ochre, dotted with fossilised trees stretching their black branches like spectres towards the overly blue skies. It was fed by a branch of a river that flowed through the valley until the 19th century, when it dried up. But the lake dried up long before that, when an ill-intentioned dune prevented the passage of water through this branch. No more water, no more life.

The experience of silence and infinity

All that remains of the past is a place that would undoubtedly delight a Shinto monk. Of course, this sublime world is best seen from a hot-air balloon. In absolute silence, suspended above eternity. You'll feel like you're stopping when you reach the last lodge, Wolwedans Dune Lodge, 80 km away, set in the middle of nothing but infinite landscapes bordered by navy blue mountains. And to do nothing. Except to try and gauge the infinite, to have in the silence of a starry night the absolute feeling of belonging to the cosmos, to enjoy the extreme comfort of the club armchairs in the lounge, to sit at one of the best Namibian tables, to appreciate the white tablecloths and fine crockery, listen to the delightful African songs sung by the staff, enjoy the din of a tropical deluge in your bungalow on stilts, swim in the open-air pool in the middle of the savannah, rest and recharge your batteries before returning to the hustle and bustle of the West via Windhoek.