Baboon frolicks at the Waterberg Plateau

The Waterberg Plateau at sunset

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Off we were in our spanking white Mercedes!  At least the first leg of the trip was the easy bit, travelling north of Windhoek towards Etosha on the only paved roads in the country.

En route to Etosha, we stopped for a couple of days at the Waterberg Plateau Park.  We thought this would be a good introduction to the country, a place where we could do a few hikes and catch the first glimpses of Namibian wildlife.  Kudu, sable antelope, red hartebeest and even the elusive white rhino all inhabit the park.  Oh yes, there are quite a few baboons too.

And there they were, gathered in the shade under a tree like a group of old gossiping women, chatting away, completely oblivious of us driving past to reach our bungalow at the Bernabe de la Bat Restcamp.

We went for a short hike to explore our surroundings after lunch, and just made it back to the camp before the rain started.  Most guides recommend to travel to Namibia in the dry season, when it is cooler but also more expensive and much busier.  We decided to take our chances and travel a bit later, just before the rainy season starts properly.  Everywhere we went you could feel the sense of anticipation, the parched earth and the people eagerly awaiting the first few drops after months of drought.  The East of the country (where we were) had finally seen the first few showers, and eating in the restaurant terrace that night we were rewarded with our own sound and light show, as spectacular forks of lightning brightened the distant horizon.

The following morning we woke up to what initially sounded like raucous thunder.  Another bit of rumble.  It sounded like someone was rolling a big, heavy barrel of beer... Where were we?  Were we staying in a pub?  Hold on, this is Namibia, they cannot be rolling barrels, not on our roof (made of corrugated metal).  Bang!  There it was that noise again.  I opened my eyes and then, through a small gap in the courtain over the terrace door, I saw them:  a whole family of baboons seemed to be having a party around our bungalow, jumping up and down the roof and throwing things around.  If the noise wasn't bad enough, then I remembered that we had foolishly left the room's small hatch window completely open and unlocked!  Too late... A baby baboon had already found this and was inquisitevely lifting the hatch and peeping into the room.  I intuitively jumped out of bed and, thankfuly, the little baboon got more scared at seeing me than I was of him and aborted the incursion.  We waited, listening, for what seemed like an eternity, hoping they wouldn't try the window again (we didn't dare put our hand out to close it) until finally they were gone!

The rest of the day went without further incidents. The weather held so we could enjoy a couple of good hikes, including a fairly strenuous climb up to the top of the 250m high sandstone Plateau.  Apart from some amazing birds and a few antilopes, we didn't see much wildlife, but the climb was well worth it only for the views from the top.  You could see for hundreds of miles all around.  There it hit us for the first (not last) time: we were just tiny, insignificant intruders in an inmense country where Nature reigns above Mankind.  I couldn't wait to see more...

By the way, we never saw the baboons again.