Why wild, sand-sculpted Namibia is a joy to explore

Several trillion grains of sand extend for more than 2,000km along the coast of Namibia and into Angola, minuscule flecks forming an arid landmass larger than Scotland.

At ground level, it’s impossible to comprehend the size of the Namib, the world’s oldest desert. The only way to appreciate its scale and magnificence is from the skies.

Staring down from the window of a private plane, my gaze is a blur of shapes and shadows. Uninterrupted by any developments, raw wilderness stretches for hours.

A popular road trip destination, one of Africa’s least populated countries, is increasingly being explored by light aircraft. I’ve joined an air adventure with Natural Selection, joining the dots between some of the country’s most remote areas while enjoying the ever-changing landscapes that lie between.

Taking off from Namibian capital and international entry point Windhoek, our six-seater flew 350km south to reach our first destination: the cayenne pepper-red dunes of Sossusvlei. One of only two lodges located in the private NamibRand Nature Reserve, Kwessi Dunes is our base for the next two nights.

Recent rains – the first in five years – have carpeted sands with a bed of fine grasses and wildflowers. So vast and seemingly inhospitable, it’s a miracle anything can live here. But driving towards the lodge, we encounter a scattering of muscular-legged ostriches. On the horizon, a parade of hardy oryx marches in single file like soldiers heading into battle, their curved dagger-sharp horns piercing the falling sun.

Connected by wooden walkways, 12 canvas and thatched air-conditioned chalets fan out around the base of dunes at Kwessi. An outdoor star bed provides an opportunity to drift off with a view of far-off galaxies.

In the morning, trails and tracks criss-cross the sands, sketching out a report of the night’s activity. Jackals, snakes, dung beetles and hairy-footed gerbils have all left their marks, while prey-seeking white dancing spiders have been busy weaving silk trapdoors in the sands.

It’s a 60-minute drive to reach some of the world’s tallest dunes at Sossusvlei, but the benefits of sleeping far from the busy huddle of most tourist lodges far outweighs any journey time.

More than 80% of the staff at Kwessi come from the local community, including our guide Papa-G. Leading us on an hour-long hike along a lower slope of the biggest dune, Big Daddy, he explains the geology of a dynamic landscape shaped by winds, river flows and time.

Sliding down shifting slopes, we end in Deadvlei – a brilliant white silt pan dotted with the skeletons of decaying trees. Estimating their age, Papa-G suggests they could be 1,000 years old. In a place where life and death happens slowly, it’s likely they’ll be here for 1,000 years more.

Flying between destinations is faster and more convenient than travelling by road. It’s also a better way to understand the environment.

Returning to our plane, we head north towards the ephemeral riverbeds of the Hoanib Valley. Below us, the land is pockmarked by hundreds of unexplained depressions known as ‘fairy circles’. Theories range from remnants of poisonous plant forests to the intervention of aliens. The most plausible explanation to date is a survival technique used by grasses to create an open area for allowing rains to soak into the ground and feed their roots.

As we continue our journey, colours fade from burning reds to glowing golds and the forks of dried waterways extend like the elaborate root systems of a dense forest.

Sheltered by tall quartz-speckled mountains, the tiny tented Hoanib Valley Camp is a homely human oasis in a place where desert-adapted species have learned to thrive.

Due to recent rains, many animals have dispersed. Debris wrapped around the base of thick ana trees indicates the swell of water which recently passed through, strong enough to carry a car away.

But during a morning drive, we do run into one of the few lions roaming between here and the ocean, only 42km away. Not seen for four months, a herd of elephants also returns during our stay. Leaving a trail of dust in their wake, these mighty creatures appear even more majestic against shimmering rose-hued peaks.

It’s not only animals that have found clever ways to live in a desert environment. A 90-minute drive from camp, a small group of Himba people have set up a small village. Natural Selection has forged a relationship with the community, providing them with assistance and resources. As part of the agreement, guests are also welcome to visit.

Only the women are at home when we arrive. Covered head-to-toe in a thick ochre paste used as both decoration and a protection against the sun, they all wear slightly different hairstyles and headwear pertaining to their age status. Goat skin skirts hang around their waists and beaded ankle guards protect against snake bites.

Powerful and confident, the women take great pride in their appearances, using burning incense as a means of washing in place of water.

‘Village visits’ can too often feel uncomfortable and contrived. But there are no pained performances during our stay. And when the women sing and dance below a setting moon as we wave goodbye, they laugh with genuine joy.

The final stop on our aerial tour is the Skeleton Coast, a beautifully desolate coastline littered with whale bones and the rusting debris of vessels caught off-course by treacherous waters and thick blankets of fog.

The appropriately named Shipwreck Lodge pays homage to valiant explorers and seafaring souls. One motto daubed onto the porthole shutters of rooms reads: “Not all those who wander are lost.”

Large windows of the ten cabins gaze out to the Atlantic Ocean. Behind us, amber-tinted dunes roll into infinity.

So much of Namibia’s geography is shaped by extremes, pushing any living creature to its limits.

Whether by air, sea or land – opportunities for exploration are endless. On every level, it defies imagination, reaching far beyond the boundaries of our human minds.