The Silence of Sossusvlei
Not every part of our adventure happened from the seat of a motorcycle
In Namibia, we figured out pretty quickly that adventure and recklessness are not the same thing. Riding loaded bikes on parched desert roads in south-western Namibia en route to Sossusvlei felt just a little risky. So we left Ruby and Schnauzer behind and joined a tour into the Namib Desert with our guide, Bruno.
We camped at Sesriem, the gateway to Sossusvlei and were up at 4.30 am. In darkness and near silence, we crossed the desert toward the dunes.
When we arrived, we were the very first people there. No footprints. No voices. Just immense stillness and the slow emergence of light across one of the most beautiful landscapes I have ever seen.
“ Richard and I climbed the tallest dune, Big Daddy, laughing as each step slid half a step back. Being the first there had its disadvantages – we had to forge our own path into the dune. Sand gives nothing easily. We negotiated and renegotiated every step.
A faint apricot glow gathered along the eastern rim of the desert, the upper lip of Big Daddy catching the first suggestion of warmth. The colours changed minute by minute. Shadows carved sharp geometry into the dunes. Light ignited one ridge while leaving another in darkness. I was mesmerised.
The last fifty metres were tough. Later, Richard would lose a couple of toenails to that climb.
The slope sharpened, and with each laboured step, the sand poured backward in a soft red avalanche. Progress became stubbornly incremental. Our legs trembled. Our lungs worked harder than they had any right to at dawn.
The wind rose, as if guarding the summit.
Excerpt from : The Accidental Motorcyclist, 2026
Sossusvlei felt ancient and elemental - a reminder of how small we are within landscapes that have existed long before us and will remain long after we are gone.
