Unchartered Territory

"For the next four days we can do exactly what we like, when we like. We don't have to answer to anyone."

With that, Eric hung a sharp right off the gravel road and down into the bumpy dry river bed. With, what seemed to me, immense skill, he manoeuvred our 4x4 effortlessly up and down sand banks and over knobbly roots and dry wood. Like an army tank or a centipede creeping along, I felt safe, supported and glued to the ground. We moved freely with no obstable proving too much. There were no tracks to follow, we made our own route.

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I noticed a clench in my tummy muscles when he said these words, "we can do exactly what we like".

Was I so conditioned into being told what to do that now I had been given the blank sheet I had always wanted, my mind was going to keep me trapped in the past? It was an interesting question.

I had only known this man for just 24 hours and here we were, set to spend the next week each others company. Three days would be alone in the remote bush. Damaraland, one of the wildest areas of Namibia, is home to the illusive Desert Elephant and Black Rhino. We’d be checking them out, surrounded by some of the largest scenery on the planet.

Why the nerves I asked myself?


It wasn't the fact that we would be sleeping more than 100km away from any form of civilisation (I love that sort of adventure), nor was it that I didn't trust Eric. He had that perfect balance between professionalism and friendliness.

That wasn't the issue. When I looked into it, I realised that it was a familiar, conditioned thought process that had led me to this feeling of vulnerability that I often push down.


I needn't have worried of course. As is so often the case, when we are able to put aside these imagined fears, the best time is had.

Eric and I soon discovered plenty to talk about and, more importantly, fell into that wonderful ease in silence. My mental commentary faded and started to mirror the huge, empty landscape passing by the window.


Often we would stop in a river bed or on the brow of a hill, jump out of the vehicle and wonder off, without a word, barefooted, in opposite directions. Me, with camera in hand, I loved to get involved in the detail of nature. The vibrant colours, the rough feel of the rock on the back of my legs, the soft sand underneath my feet and that dry, healing heat that seemed to silently encompass everything.

What Crocodile Dundee was to Australia's Outback, Eric was to Namibia's expansive bushland.

He knew which hill was good for mobile phone connection, enabling me to call my mother on her birthday. He knew where to find the best swimming spots where we could play in the mini waterfalls, pushing our lower backs up against the moving water. He knew where all the sheltered camping spots were.


In short, he was an ideal guide. Interesting, interested and always the perfect gentleman, he gauged sensitively just how much information to impart, according to my curiosity.

I loved hearing about the history of the Himba people, the original ways that the plants and animals have adapted to survive in this harsh environment and I laughed easily the stories of the weird and wonderful characters that he had led through his world.

Being guided by Eric was like having the green card to be a child again. Any worries and concerns harboured in my mind disappeared. Any offers of help were firmly turned down (like the corner of my duvet in the tent) as he kindly sent me off, pointing me in the direction of the best sunset views. He preferred to get on with the building of the camp alone.

He had his system.

Then I would return, just after sunset, to a burning fire, a beautifully set table and a glass of chilled white wine.


The back of the 4x4 was like Dr Who’s tardis and was well equipped with fridge, mobile kitchen and little extras like a tablecloth, candles and a cheese knife.

“I always believe in doing things properly, otherwise we may as well be monkeys,” he said, as we edged down into our Director’s chairs, bellies full, legs stretched out and necks rolled back to look at the stars.


I was impressed with the awareness that he brought in to his work and felt it was a privilege to observe. It was as if he was doing what he was born to do, free and in his talent. It was good to be on the receiving end - a tough job, but somebody had to do it...


As our time together drew to a close I realised how much I had let go of. I was beginning to recognise myself a little more and it felt wonderful. The suffering of discrepancy, between inside and out, was getting less.

I knew I was going to miss this dude, his quiet strength and sense of calm. I'd got used to sitting next to him in the vehicle, legs crossed or stretched out of the window, lazily watching empty moonscape change to one scattered with oryx and zebra.

It had been a brilliant few days. I had imagined distance and awkwardness only to be rewarded with companionship, fun and brotherly affection.