station7fireman
New member
- Joined
- Jan 12, 2022
- Messages
- 7
- Reaction score
- 35
- Hunted
- Namibia
Back at it...
Landed in at Hosea Kutako (WDH) in Namibia around 9:30pm on May 6th, just over 12 hours after my scheduled arrival. All in all, not too bad. No lost luggage, no damaged equipment and not a bad thing to say of the flight itself.
Fortunately, Jennifer at Travel Express had me set up with the new Namibia visa requirements well in advance. I had my documents ready for customs, unlike 95% of the others on the flight. It was silly in the arrival hall to say the least. Have your documents and a black pen handy. A paperwork check, passport stamp and I was cleared for entry. We will now interrupt this smooth operation with some shenanigans that will continue to just before sunrise...
As you exit the arrivals, you get channeled past a gaggle of waiting drivers to collect their clients. Many are holding signs, some are yelling names, and others, well they are just kind of standing there. So as I walk through I am looking for the firearms collection point to get my rifle. I had never traveled commercially with a firearm and it was at the front of my brain.
A young man holding a sign with my name on it appears before me. Super, this is going well. I ask him if he knows where to collet firearms from and he says no (first flag). Ok, we can figure it out together. Essentially, there is a roll up metal window just outside the exit to the left. This rollup stays closed until all of the firearms are brought in from baggage. Then a policeman opens up shop, checks s/n's and turns over your stuff. This took an hour or so, mostly just waiting. The driver wasn't much for small talk and seemed like he wanted to get going. I was blurry eyed from travel and just wanted to sleep. We load up in my mans car (second flag) and hit the road. I had a sense of where we were headed and what potential routes we may take, as I had studied the area as part of prep. Old habits die hard. Once in Windhoek, we began to deviate from what I thought would be the logical route (third flag). I began to question the driver and he clamed up (fourth, fifth and sixth flags). Now we are stopped in a dark neighborhood and my man wants to make some phone calls. It's at this point I wish I had tried to learn some Afrikaans. After some dilly dallying and circling blocks, I finally got him to understand that I was headed to Khomas Highland Hunting.
Driver man made some more phone calls and off we headed off westward. His little Namibian version of a Nissan Sentra was about to get thrashed driving towards the camp. Once we left the city limits and made the gravel roads it became wildly apparent that I was not supposed to be in this mans car and I was not his fare (lost count of the flags). To make matters more unsettling, he now refused to acknowledge my presence and had no idea where he was going. After driving for a few dozen kilometers, I knew without a doubt we had gone too far. This is why map study is important. I convince him to turn around and tell him I will go up to any farm we pass and try to make contact. As we are headed back east, a set of headlights breaks over a crest and lands on us. A brown Hilux locks bears down on us and locks up all four, blocking our path. Guess what... it was the driver I was supposed to be with.
Yup, I'm an idiot.
In my bleary eyed state back at the airport, I glanced at my dudes sign and saw my last name. Well, it was off by a letter. Nothing else to confirm our interaction. No questions, no ID, no confirmation. Turns out, the driver who I was supposed to be with was there waiting and I never saw her. So many more details but this is already getting lengthy.
So out of that Hilux comes my guide, Elzet. She introduces herself, transfers my bags and turns her attention to my former driver.
Elzet tore this kid up. I don't understand Afrikaans but I've been read the riot act so it wasn't hard to understand. She got me to the lodge and got me into a room for an hour or two of rest before the camp woke up. Come to find out that she had been searching for me for the past few hours. Drove countless kilometers, had family members out looking and had no intention of quitting. Elzet was really the first person I met in Namibia. She came to define over the next few days it in way too.
I have idea what camp looks like, it's dark, I'm tired, sore, and ready for some sleep.
Morning comes quickly. Sunrise is the alarm clock for most of the camp and I slept terrible. So up and at 'em, lets find some coffee.
Landed in at Hosea Kutako (WDH) in Namibia around 9:30pm on May 6th, just over 12 hours after my scheduled arrival. All in all, not too bad. No lost luggage, no damaged equipment and not a bad thing to say of the flight itself.
Fortunately, Jennifer at Travel Express had me set up with the new Namibia visa requirements well in advance. I had my documents ready for customs, unlike 95% of the others on the flight. It was silly in the arrival hall to say the least. Have your documents and a black pen handy. A paperwork check, passport stamp and I was cleared for entry. We will now interrupt this smooth operation with some shenanigans that will continue to just before sunrise...
As you exit the arrivals, you get channeled past a gaggle of waiting drivers to collect their clients. Many are holding signs, some are yelling names, and others, well they are just kind of standing there. So as I walk through I am looking for the firearms collection point to get my rifle. I had never traveled commercially with a firearm and it was at the front of my brain.
A young man holding a sign with my name on it appears before me. Super, this is going well. I ask him if he knows where to collet firearms from and he says no (first flag). Ok, we can figure it out together. Essentially, there is a roll up metal window just outside the exit to the left. This rollup stays closed until all of the firearms are brought in from baggage. Then a policeman opens up shop, checks s/n's and turns over your stuff. This took an hour or so, mostly just waiting. The driver wasn't much for small talk and seemed like he wanted to get going. I was blurry eyed from travel and just wanted to sleep. We load up in my mans car (second flag) and hit the road. I had a sense of where we were headed and what potential routes we may take, as I had studied the area as part of prep. Old habits die hard. Once in Windhoek, we began to deviate from what I thought would be the logical route (third flag). I began to question the driver and he clamed up (fourth, fifth and sixth flags). Now we are stopped in a dark neighborhood and my man wants to make some phone calls. It's at this point I wish I had tried to learn some Afrikaans. After some dilly dallying and circling blocks, I finally got him to understand that I was headed to Khomas Highland Hunting.
Driver man made some more phone calls and off we headed off westward. His little Namibian version of a Nissan Sentra was about to get thrashed driving towards the camp. Once we left the city limits and made the gravel roads it became wildly apparent that I was not supposed to be in this mans car and I was not his fare (lost count of the flags). To make matters more unsettling, he now refused to acknowledge my presence and had no idea where he was going. After driving for a few dozen kilometers, I knew without a doubt we had gone too far. This is why map study is important. I convince him to turn around and tell him I will go up to any farm we pass and try to make contact. As we are headed back east, a set of headlights breaks over a crest and lands on us. A brown Hilux locks bears down on us and locks up all four, blocking our path. Guess what... it was the driver I was supposed to be with.
Yup, I'm an idiot.
In my bleary eyed state back at the airport, I glanced at my dudes sign and saw my last name. Well, it was off by a letter. Nothing else to confirm our interaction. No questions, no ID, no confirmation. Turns out, the driver who I was supposed to be with was there waiting and I never saw her. So many more details but this is already getting lengthy.
So out of that Hilux comes my guide, Elzet. She introduces herself, transfers my bags and turns her attention to my former driver.
Elzet tore this kid up. I don't understand Afrikaans but I've been read the riot act so it wasn't hard to understand. She got me to the lodge and got me into a room for an hour or two of rest before the camp woke up. Come to find out that she had been searching for me for the past few hours. Drove countless kilometers, had family members out looking and had no intention of quitting. Elzet was really the first person I met in Namibia. She came to define over the next few days it in way too.
I have idea what camp looks like, it's dark, I'm tired, sore, and ready for some sleep.
Morning comes quickly. Sunrise is the alarm clock for most of the camp and I slept terrible. So up and at 'em, lets find some coffee.
Can’t help but laugh. Glad you made it. Still laughing you loaded up with some random.
