The Lido stewards surprised Squeekie with a birthday cinnamon roll . . .

. . . and a “Happy Birthday” song; boy, was she pleased!

Squeekie and Suzie up in the Crow’s Nest, working on the journal.

Squeek and Moss at their favourite table in the Pinnacle to celebrate her birthday in style.

Kim de Klerck gave Suzie a Build-a-Bear outfit to help her remember South Africa.

The special birthday cake Kim and the Pinnacle staff prepared for Squeek’s 55th birthday.

Squeek was really pleased by the special cake . . .

. . . which had everybody’s name on it!
The Pinnacle staff also sang “Happy Birthday” to our birthday girl, something which doesn’t usually happen.

Our other special guest for this event was Captain Olav.


Squeekie opened a present from Moss—a Lladro turtle.

Approaching Luderitz Bay the next morning, we saw how rocky and barren was the so-called “Skeleton Coast” of Namibia.

Squeek boards the tender to go into Luderitz Bay.

A view of Luderitz Bay from Rotterdam, anchored just offshore.

Moss exits from one of the buildings at the Kolmanskop “ghost town.”

Blown sand inside one of the buildings.

Squeek’s overview of Kolmanskop from the hillside near the old electric substation.

The inside of the ground floor of the substation.

The former home of the site manager.

Squeekie hard at work photographing the ruins at Kolmanskop . . .

. . . and the picture she took.

An overview of Kolmanskop as we were leaving; the abandoned-in-place railway line crosses in mid-range.

The street side of the former railway station at Luderitz Bay.

The Woermannhaus overlooks the harbour and also the former railway yard.

This American-style narrow gauge passenger car is preserved near the station; that’s the Woermannhaus in the background..

Moss by the station platform—some of the rails are still in, but the line is no longer used.

Another of Luderitz’ colonial buildings—it once was Kapps’ Concert and Dance Hall.

Squeekie climbed up the hill to get this dramatic picture of the famous Felsenkirche—Church of the Rock—a Lutheran church . . .


. . . behind the altar in the church is this stained glass window donated by Kaiser Wilhelm II; if you look carefully you can see the royal eagle in the bottom centre panel of the window.

This panoramic view from the top of “Diamond Hill” shows the famous church with the town of Luderitz and the harbour at its feet.

Near the Felsenkirche is the Goerke House, originally built to house the city’s mayor.


Inside the Goerke House are several beautiful stained glass windows; this one in the stairs extols the flamingos which nest on the coast near Luderitz.

This sundial is found on the north wall of the Goerke House.

Meanwhile, Moss was discovering Windhoek Beer at this tavern; to the right just outside the picture was the former railway right of way. This entire block was part of the Kapp Hotel complex.

After her exploration of the upper reaches of the town, Squeek joined Moss for a beer at the pub.

This is the former Deutsche-Afrika Bank building on Bismarckstrasse.

This view of Luderitz Bay town and harbour was taken from the Rotterdam as we departed in the late afternoon.

The next morning we were docked at Walvis Bay, a large and busy harbour . . .

. . . which is the major port for Namibia, and was very busy with container traffic.

South of the harbour area we came across a series of lagoons which clearly nourished a bird population . . .

. . . including a major nesting place for flamingos—Suzie was happy!

Then it was out into the Kalahari Desert, where huge sand dunes swept across the horizon.

The dark patches on the sand dunes are accumulations of raw iron.

Dune Seven rises above the Walvis Bay-Swakopmund-Windhoek Railway in the foreground; if you look carefully you can see a foot path up to the top.

Squeekie resolutely strode off to climb Dune Seven, as was captured by hour friend Bobbie . . .

. . . she got quite far up there . . .

. . . but my whomping telephoto was able to capture Squeek as she turned to take a picture of what lay at the foot of the dune . . .

. . . and this is the shot she got.

Later, Bobbie took this portrait of the two of us together in the sandy emptiness of Namibia.

The Martin Luther Museum holds the remains of a steam traction engine dating to before the railway era in German South-West Africa.

Squeekie got this nice shot of a local freight train switching cars at the junction in Swakopmund where the Walvis Bay extension branches off.

The former railway station in Swakopmund is now a shopping mall.

Squeekie on the shopping street in Swakopmund which recreates German architecture.

Squeekie enjoys giving a “coochie-coo” to a hippo.

This statuary memorializes the German troops who tried to defend the colony in the face of a British-South African invasion in 1914.

A Namibian Bantu female announcing her availability for marriage by being topless in public—Squeekie took this picture, I did not.

This old steam engine once pumped water into the city of Swakopmund.

The open-air street market where I bought my sandalwood box.

This shipwreck is one reason why the coast of Namibia is known as the “Skeleton Coast.”

This is the Long Beach Resort; we took this picture from the Rotterdam as we departed Walvis Bay.

The girls choir from the Nordkamp Centre.


Part of the impromptu song and dance which the girls performed down on dockside.


The girls loved their teddy bears . . .



. . . and they enthusiastically showed this to the people aboard the Rotterdam.

As we left Walvis Bay we saw this fishing boat repair facility . . .

. . . and saw how busy this port on Africa’s west coast really is.


This is one of the several platforms we saw off the Namibian coast from which diamonds are brought up from the ocean floor.


Squeek and Moss at their favourite outlook place on the ship, Deck Six Forward, watching the Skeleton Coast of Africa recede into the distance.



Ninety-fourth Day (Thursday, April 23, 2009)-- Today is another “at sea” day as we cruise northward up the west coast of the African continent, passing along South Africa and then into Namibia, formerly South-West Africa. Our passage was slow overnight because there was a heavy fog all along the coast and some distance out to sea. Olav told us that fog is quite common along this section of coast because the warm air from the African interior comes into contact with the very cold water running northwards in a current along the African coast; this cold water has come all the way from Antarctica. Because of the fog, apparently Rotterdam had to blow its fog whistle every two minutes all night long. Don MacDonald told us that some of the people who are residing on Deck Seven (that’s the “high rent district”) complained that the fog horn kept them awake, but my reaction to that is “tough beans, wimps, what do you want, a night’s sleep disturbed by the possibility of a ship collision along this busy coast, or sleep interrupted by horns which keep us free and clear of other ships.” We didn’t hear the horn in our cabin on Deck Six, nor did Don in his cabin down on Deck One.

After Squeekie did several laps on Deck Three for a morning walk—she came back and said that it was very cold and drippy wet out there because of the fog, but her walk was brisk because almost no-one else was up and about—we then went up to the Lido for breakfast, and the stewards, led by Heru, I think, surprised her by singing “Happy Birthday” and presenting her with a cinnamon roll with two candles on it.

We spent the rest of the day up in the Crow’s Nest working on our computers. I, as all of you readers (if any of you have stuck with me) must know by now, am several weeks behind where I should be, and wonder now if I will ever catch up before our trip is finished. Squeekie is also behind several days in writing her journal. So we wrote all day long in the comparative quiet of the Crow’s Nest, which really doesn’t begin to wake up (except for that confounded Dance Class at 9am, which runs for 45 minutes) until Tea Time at three o’clock.

At noontime (which is trivia contest time for me on at sea days) Rotterdam held an interesting event called the Garage Sale for Charity. Our staff know from experience that sometimes those “gotta have” souvenirs become “why did I buy this crap?” So they set up this garage sale event where unwanted items can be sold to other discerning guests aboard the ship. In return for potentially helping to lighten someone’s luggage on the last leg home, the ship also asked for a voluntary donation of a portion of the sale proceeds to a specific charity. On this voyage the selected charity was the Bernhard Nordkamp Centre for AIDS Orphans, which is located in Windhoek, the capital of Namibia. The centre serves approximately 500 AIDS orphans and other “vulnerable” children, making sure that they attend school and are supplied with uniforms, and school supplies. The Centre also provides the children with lunches, arts and crafts, study time, reading assistance, and computer access, and also provides sports activities and choir to encourage the promulgation of social skills. I did not attend the garage sale (because I was at trivia) but Squeek did, and later told me that there was a lot of stuff which changed hands, although she did not know if that included any of the infamous 7-foot high giraffe sculptures which are famed and notorious souvenirs of trips to Africa. (Our friend Don MacDonald has one and has told us about his efforts to get it home one year.) We later heard that over $5,000 was raised by this event, a sum which will go very far in this part of Africa! Squeekie ate by herself out on the back deck today, although she later told me that Olav came by to wish her a belated happy birthday, and stayed for a while to chat, along with Joost, the First Officer (second in command of the ship’s operations).

The big event of this day was the special birthday dinner I had arranged with Kim de Klerck in the Pinnacle. Tonight was scheduled to be one of the special theme dinners there, specifically the “South African Dinner” event, but Kim honoured my request for a special meal with a cake and a special guest. Back in the first week of our trip I had asked Captain Olav to set aside this date to be our invited guest for Squeek’s birthday celebration in the Pinnacle, and he had put the date on his calendar. I also had asked him to keep it as a surprise, and I was very pleased to learn that today at lunch, when he had talked with Squeekie out on the back deck, he had carefully avoided any reference to tonight’s special event—thanks Olav!

We arrived at the Pinnacle just before seven o’clock. Kim had already told me that she had a special gift for Suzie, so I had tried to get Squeekie to bring Suzie along to dinner, but she didn’t because of the large crowd in the Pinnacle for the special meal event. At any rate, Kim and her staff had arranged a beautiful decoration of our regular table, complete with balloons, a flower arrangement (more of those “Old Man’s Balls” seedpods), and rose petals scattered on the tablecloth. Cards and packages were also placed on the table. Thanks, guys, for your artistry! When we were seated Kim came to the table and asked where was Suzie. I was able to persuade Squeek to hurry back to our stateroom and bring Suzie to the Pinnacle. Kim had discovered the Build-a-Bear store at the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront shopping district in Cape Town, and she purchased a shirt and shoes with the South Africa flag on them as a present for little Suzie, who expressed her thanks to Kim.

Squeekie saw that there was a third setting at the table, and I guess she thought that maybe they were going to seat someone there as part of the special meal event—we had had guests at our table for all of the earlier meal events we had attended. But no-one was seated as the first appetizers were served. Then, just as the second appetizers were being served, in strode Captain Olav, who sat at our empty place! It is an understatement to say that Squeek was surprised! She was pleased and even a bit giggly, and it clearly was the best surprise I could have planned for her special event. She made a point of commenting to Olav that he had done a good job of keeping the secret that very day when he had sat with her at lunch. Oh, she was pleased!

Needless to say, we enjoyed our meal with Olav. Just before the staff began serving dessert, a big cake was brought out for Squeekie. Five candles burned and the names of Kim and all of her staff were written in chocolate on the top of the cake. Normally the Pinnacle staff do not sing “Happy Birthday” songs in that restaurant, but Captain Olav encouraged them to sing and they really got into it. Before the song was finished, most of the people in the restaurant had joined in. Squeekie was very pleased! She thanked the staff, made a wish, and blew out the candles—I can only wonder what it was she had wished for. . . . She opened her cards and her two packages, both from me. I gave her a jade bracelet and pendant previously purchased in China; she knew about this one, but she didn’t know about the other one, the Lladro turtle I had ordered and which Chantal had held for me so that it would not show up on our ship accounts. Olav stayed conversing with us until most of the other guests had left the Pinnacle, but then Kim came and sat down, and we chatted with her for another hour or so. I can say with no doubt that this was the finest recent birthday celebration I have organized for my special Squeekie, and I thank all of those aboard the Rotterdam, from the Captain on down, for their parts in making this day (and the previous day) so special for Squeekie.


Ninety-fifth Day (Friday, April 24, 2009)-- This morning we arrived in Luderitz, one of the few ports along the rocky and barren coast of Namibia, which is known as the “Skeleton Coast.” This port is small, and we were greeted around seven o’clock in the morning by an announcement from Captain Olav that we would not be entering the port but would stand off and tender ashore because of how shallow the port was. (I later learned that the hard, rocky bottom of the port makes it next to impossible to dredge out the harbour to a greater depth.) As a result, this became a tender port—we would have to board a tender to be taken ashore—always a fun adventure in itself.

A bit of local history seems to be in order-- Namibia was formerly known as South-West Africa, and it has had an interesting history. The land is dominated by a desert as formidable as any in the world, the Kalahari, which covers some 225,000 square miles in Namibia and neighbouring Botswana. The name Kalahari comes from a native word meaning “great thirst.” This is an unusual desert because, although it has large areas of permanently dry sand which migrate as dunes, and a large interior salt pan which is the remnant of a prehistoric lake, there are some parts which receive nearly ten inches of erratic rainfall annually and are quite well vegetated. The Atlantic Ocean coastline of Namibia, from the mouth of the Orange River in the south (this is the boundary between South Africa and Namibia), northward into Angola, is known as the “Skeleton Coast” because of its inhospitable terrain and lack of good harbours (other than Walvis Bay), for the bleached whale and seal bones which once covered the shore when the whaling industry was still active, and for the skeletal shipwrecks caused by rocks offshore in the fog (the wrecks of more than a thousand vessels litter the coast).

The dry lands of Namibia were inhabited since very early times by Bushmen, indigenous natives of short stature, known to some Europeans as “Hottentots.” More of the Bushmen migrated into Namibia after being driven from their homelands in the Cape Region beginning in the seventeenth century. A large community of Bushmen, better known as the San or Khwe, lives in southern Namibia to this day.

The first Europeans to disembark and explore the region were the Portuguese navigators Diogo Cão in 1485 and Bartolomeu Dias in 1486, but the region was not claimed by the Portuguese crown, probably because of its formidible climate and unwelcoming topography. Like most of sub-Saharan Africa, Namibia was not extensively explored by Europeans until the 19th century. One of the first European groups to show interest in Namibia were the missionaries. In 1805 the London Missionary Society began working in Namibia, moving north from the Cape Colony, and in 1811 they founded the town of Bethanie in southern Namibia, where they built a church which today is Namibia's oldest surviving non-native building.

The first territorial claim on a part of Namibia came in 1878, when Britain annexed Walvis Bay on behalf of the Cape Colony, confirming the Dutch settlement of 1797. The annexation was an attempt to forestall German ambitions in the area, and it also guaranteed control of the only good deepwater harbour on Africa’s southern Atlantic coast between the Equator and Cape Town. Then came the Berlin Conference of 1884-85, where nearly all of Africa was carved up among the European colonial powers. Namibia (with the exception of Walvis Bay, already under British control) became a German colony, known as German South-West Africa. Between 1904 and 1907, German forces conducted campaigns against native tribes who rose against the colonial government. The resulting genocide destroyed 10,000 Namaqua (half the population) and 100,000 Herero (three quarters of the population). Germans did found three important towns in South-West Africa: Luderitz in 1883, Windhoek in 1890 (on the site of a failed Cape Dutch farming settlement), and Swakopmund in 1892.

Early in World War One British colonial forces from South Africa occupied Namibia in the face of token resistance from a tiny German colonial force. Following that war, South Africa administered the region as a League of Nations mandate territory, but when the League was superceeded by the United Nations in 1946, South Africa refused to surrender its earlier mandate. This was because a United Nations Trusteeship agreement would have required closer international monitoring. The South African government wanted to incorporate “South-West Africa” into its own nation, but never officially did so, although after 1961 it was administered as the so-called “fifth province” with the white minority having representation in the whites-only Parliament of South Africa. In 1966, a guerilla group known as the South-West Africa People’s Organisation (SWAPO) launched a war of independence with little success, but it was not until 1988 that South Africa agreed to end its administration of Namibia, as part of a United Nations peace plan for the entire region. Transition for independence started in 1989 but it was only on March 21, 1990, that Namibia officially claimed full independence. Walvis Bay was ceded to Namibia in 1994, upon the end of Apartheid in South Africa.

Well, if you’re still with me, back to our day-- What was most ironic was that, in this region considered to be one of the driest on the planet, usually enjoying less than three inches of rain each year, a rather persistant rainfall made itself felt to us in the early morning hours. Although unwelcome to us, I am quite sure that the local residents enjoyed it a great deal! Fortunately for us, the rain had stopped by the time our tender number was called. The sea was calm and the tender journey ashore was brief and easy. When we arrived at the dock, we boarded the coach (bus) which was to take us on our tour for the morning, to the famous mining “ghost town” of Kolmanskop (from the original German name of Kolmannskuppe), some eight or nine miles south of Luderitz.

August Stauch, a supervisor on the Luderitz-Aus (aka “Southern”) Railway, in charge of the crew which removed blown sand from the tracks, in 1908 discovered diamonds intermixed with the sand in the dunes southeast of Luderitz. (Over several million years these diamonds had eroded out of volcanic tubes much further east and had washed toward the sea coast.) Immediately (in that very year) a town was built on the discovery site to house the rapidly growing labour force and their supervision, sheltering them from the harsh environment of the Kalahari Desert which enveloped them. The village was built like a German town, with facilities such as a hospital, ballroom, power station, school, bowling alley, theater and sport hall, casino, ice factory, and the first medical x-ray facility in the southern hemisphere. It also had the services of a narrow gauge railway line connecting the new town to Lüderitz. This mining town boomed until World War One, but began to decline after the war as diamond prices crashed. In 1928 major mining operations moved southeast to Oranjemund in the southern part of Namibia, where the diamonds tended to be larger. Kolmanskop lingered for a long time before being abandoned in 1956, but subsequently was partly restored and has become a popular tourist destination administered by the firm known as NAMDEB (Namibia-DeBeers).

Kolmanskop is a very interesting place, but our tour was disappointing. Our guide, a resident of Luderitz of European ancestry, had a strong accent and was difficult to understand. She spoke at one location for way too long a time, which upset some of the tour guests and, worst of all in my eyes, she was unable (or unwilling) to answer some of my questions about the history of the site. Eventually Squeekie and I separated from the tour group to investigate on our own. Because my feet were really hurting today, she walked the long distance up the hillside to visit the substation and some of the more important houses, while I explored the buildings lower down along the former railway spur. As you can see from the included pictures, it was a fascinating place which reminded me in many ways of the Bodie ghost town in Central California. Unsurprisingly, given what had been the task of the man who had first discovered diamonds at this location, there were a number of buildings which have partially filled with sand, a never-ending problem in this area. Some of the buildings were labelled as to their original function, but most were not; as a result it was sometimes difficult to determine what the building had once housed, especially if it remained in ruins and no effort at preservation had been made. In addition, there was a small museum on the site, which was somewhat interesting but would have been moreso had it not been rather run down. There also was a gift shop which sold books (yes, I got a few, one in German), and also sold diamonds found in the region. Fortunately, Squeekie decided against buying any on this day.

After several hours our bus gathered us up to go back to Luderitz. The drive through the desert was fascinating, and at several places I could see the remains of the former railway line which now has been abandoned. When we arrived back in town we decided to explore this place rather than go out to the ship right away. Luderitz has preserved (or in some cases restored) a great deal of its German colonial architecture, so that much of the town looks as though it was transported lock, stock, and barrel from turn-of-the-twentieth century Germany itself.

Another brief (I promise) historical aside-- In 1883, a Hanseat (German) trade merchant from Bremen named Adolf Lüderitz bought some twenty “miles” of coastal land around the present day community of Luderitz from the local Namaqua chief Joseph Fredericks. The selling price was 10,000 Reichmarks and 260 rifles. Luderitz believed that the British were about to declare the entire region a protectorate, and wished to establish a German foothold on the coast before that could happen. Only after this treaty was concluded did the Namaqua chief realise that not the usual English “landmile” (1 mile = 1.8 kilometres) had been meant, but rather the old German “geographical mile” (1 mile = 7.5 km). Due to this infamous “mile fraud,” Chief Fredericks lost his entire tribal property.

Adolf Luderitz immediately established a town where a small bay indented the rocky coastline, immodestly naming it for himself; this new town on the Skeleton Coast quickly became a trading post and a centre for fishing and guano harvesting. (Guano, the polite word for deposited bird shit, had been used as a fertilizer by the South American indians for many centuries, but in the 1840s Europeans discovered that it was rich in phosphorus and nitrates which were key ingredients in explosives. As a result, guano was harvested in vast quantities over the remainder of the nineteenth century.) However, before too long Adolf Luederitz became bitterly disappointed with the estate he had obtained, primarily because the expected mineral resources (copper, gold and silver) were nowhere to be found. Drilling for water turned out to be useless, as a result of which drinking water had to be brought in by ship all the way from Cape Town. Before too long, when his personal funds were exhausted, Luederitz had to sell his little empire to the “German Colonial Society.” During an expedition in 1886, Adolf Luederitz drowned in the Oranje River.

In 1908, following discovery of diamonds nearby, the small community of Lüderitz enjoyed a sudden surge in prosperity which lasted until the outbreak of the First World War. In the 1920s, however, as diamond harvesting moved to other locations and offshore, Luderitz lost its economic foundation. (Today many diamonds are gathered from the seafloor off the Namibian coast by large mining devices which look nearly identical to offshore oil rigs.) Because the harbour at Luderitz has a rock bottom which prevents deepening, the town further declined as larger modern ships found themselves unable to enter safely. Today Luderitz pins its economic hopes on the rising tourist industry, attracted in part because of the unusual colonial architecture which survives in the town, including some Art Nouveau work

OK, back to our activities-- First off we walked over to the former railway station to take pictures. The “Southern Railway” line which once ran from Luderitz east to Aus, Seeheim, and Keetmanshoop (where eventually it connected with a north-south trunk line and the South African Railway system) was built by the German Colonial Administration between 1905 and 1908. The station building, completed in 1914, was built on a right angle curve where the trunk line entering the city from the south east turns to drop down to the harbour. The building still stands and some of the rails remain in place even though the rail line itself has not been used for some time. (I could not learn from anyone in the town when passenger trains ceased to run, but it may have been before the South Africans left in 1989.) While I photographed the station building, Squeekie walked up the side of a hill to photograph the lovely Woermannhaus and also to take pictures of a survivng wooden passenger car on display nearby; the car looks very American in design, right down to the knuckle couplers, but again, I could find no information about this.

After dealing with the remains of the railway, Squeekie wished to walk up Diamond Hill to photograph two of Ludertiz’ most famous colonial survivors, but I begged off because of my sore feet. So we split at that point. While Squeekie climbed up the hill, I settled in at the Rumours Sports Pub, located in the building complex which also houses the Kapp Hotel, and discovered the joys of Windhoek Beer.

Squeekie passed and photographed the Goerke House, built in 1909 for a wealthy and prominent early citizen, Hans Goerke, but for many decades housed the city’s chief magistrate (mayor). It presently is owned by (and was restored by) NAMDEB. Although Squeekie did not go inside to look around because of the cost of the entry fee, the house sports several original and very beautiful stained glass windows. Outside the house on the north-facing wall is a sundial, an architectural addition which was very popular in middle class homes built in the Wilhelmine era before World War One.

Nearby the Goerke House on a prominant site overlooking Luderitz and its harbour is the famous Felsenkirche, or Church of the Rock, a beautiful Evangelical Lutheran Church. Despite several requests to establish a Lutheran congregation in Lüderitz, the first minister did not arrive from Germany until 1909. Prior to that time, the population of Lüderitz was thought to be too small to justify allocating a full-time, live-in minister. Albert Bause, the brother of the first minister, Heinrich Bause, designed and constructed the church and the foundation stone was laid on November 19, 1911; the church was consecrated on August 4, 1912. Kaiser Wilhelm II donated the stained glass window behind the altar, and his wife donated the altar Bible. Other German aristocrats (the Lutheran ones from northern Germany) also donated the stained glass windows on the side walls of the church; one large one featured a bust of Martin Luther himself. The building, more Victorian Gothic than German neo-Gothic in style, is a beautiful landmark prominently seen from every point in the town.

After she explored the architectural treasures of Diamond Hill, Squeekie came back down and joined me in the pub, where she too learned of Windhoek beer. (I must say that, although neither of us are regular beer drinkers, we enjoyed this brew made in Windhoek, the inland capital of Namibia, largely due to its gentle flavour not overwhelmed by hop bitterness.) While we were in the pub we made the acquaintence of a British couple who had joined our ship in Cape Town; it was a pleasant interlude and seemingly very British in nature.

Then we began our several-block walk back to the harbour, stopping several times to photograph the (often) beautifully restored colonial-era buildings. One I particularly found of interest was a bank structure, now the NedBank, but originally built as the Deutche-Afrika Bank. Located in Bismarck Street, not far from the railway station, the bank was built in 1907 to a design by the same Albert Bause who later did the Felsenkirche. The building features a bell tower and a Cape Dutch-style gable. We also stopped at a nice shop owned by a woman who was a fifth generation native of Luderitz, where we purchased tee-shirts, and at the tourist office, where I bought some books and a poster which says “Luderitz is Closer than you Think!” Eventually we found ourselves back at the pier, where we boarded the tender for the nice run out to the Rotterdam. We both LOVED this picturesque little town and are glad that is has worked to save and restore its colonial architecture. If only they could get that railway back up and running!

The rest of the afternoon was spent writing and downloading the pictures we had taken that day. We also watched the sailaway from our favourite post on Deck Six Forward. Over dinner this evening Squeekie and I decided that what we liked most about Luderitz, aside from its picturesque structure, was its easily manageable size. It was easy to explore at our own pace, on foot if desired, without having to deal with insistent taxi drivers following their own agenda or pushy vendors selling crap that wasn’t essential to our survival. On top of this, Luderits seemed to be a familiar piece of Europe imposed upon Africa, which made it of even greater interest. We both agreed that we would enjoy coming back to this town in the future.


Ninety-sixth Day (Saturday, April 25, 2009)-- When we awoke this morning the Rotterdam was on its final approach to Walvis Bay. We had a simple room service breakfast out on our verandah as the ship came in to dock.

The history information-- Walvis Bay is the only natural deepwater harbour of any size along the coast of Namibia, or for that matter along Africa’s Atlantic coast between the Equator and Cape Town. As a result, it has been of importance to Europeans since they first started exploring this region in the fifteenth century. Portuguese explorers seeking a way to India in the 1400s were the first Europeans to arrive here. Because the harbour, protected by a sand spit known as Pelican Point, is rich in plankton and marine life, it provided both a shelter and breeding ground for many birds and also for whales. This last is how the place got its name. Dutch mariners coming down the African coast in the early seventeenth century called the site “Walvisch Baye,” and when the English arrived a half century later they translated this as “Whale Bay,” which eventually was corrupted into “Walvis Bay.” The Dutch informally used this place as a rest stop for their convoys going out to Cape Town and east to the Spice Islands (Indonesia), but the British took over from the Dutch in 1797 in the early stages of the international war that arose from the French Revolution. The site was important to European and American whalers throughout the nineteenth century, but it was not until 1878 that the British government officially took control of Walvis Bay and an enclave of surrounding land, making it a part of their Cape Colony. (Walvis Bay officially became a part of the Union of South Africa in 1910.)

As I mentioned in yesterday’s entry, in 1884 and 1885 a conference was held in Berlin during which the European colonial powers carved up Africa, and the remainder of the “Skeleton Coast” land area was granted to Germany, then a new nation trying to match the power and glory of older European powers. (The modern nation of Germany was created in 1871 with the unification of the various previously independent German states such as Prussia and Bavaria.) Again as was mentioned in yesterday’s entry, German control of South-West Africa came to an end during World War One when German forces surrendered to a British-led South African expeditionary army fighting on the Allied side. As a result, in 1921 the Union of South Africa was given a “mandate” to control the former German colony by the League of Nations, but the enclave around Walvis Bay was not included in this mandate as it was already considered to be a part of South Africa.

This South African mandate was renewed (rather reluctantly) by the United Nations organization at the end of World War Two, although the new international authority refused to permit outright annexation of the region by South Africa. Undeterred, in 1949 the South African government, now in the throes of white-dominated Apartheid, granted parliamentary representation to the white population living in South-West Africa, making them the equals of those living in Walvis Bay, who had had parliamentary representation since 1910. Namibia finally received independence from South Africa in 1991, but the enclave at Walvis Bay was not given over to the new nation until 1994. Now this fine harbour has become the principal port for the new nation of Namibia, and is a very busy container terminal as we saw when we docked there. A railway runs from the harbour some 400 kilometers to Windhoek, the capital of Namibia. (This railway was built from Windhoek to Swakopmund between 1897 and 1902, and converted to Cape Gauge [3-foot 6-inches, or 1,067 mm] in 1910-11; the 39 kilometer connection from Swakopmund into Walvis Bay was built in 1915 by the South Africans after they took control of the region away from Germany.)

OK, enough history, back to our day-- The Rotterdam docked at Walvis Bay before eight in the morning, and we left the ship to board our coach for a tour which would take us to some desert sand dunes and then to the old German town of Swakopmund some miles to the north. As we drove through the town—which is not all that large, we noted that in addition to port facilities, there appears to be ship repairing, fishing, and salt extraction industries here, and there was evidence of diamond mining just off the coast as we saw one of those big structures which looks like an oil rig platform. Interestingly, the streets outside of town are not paved with asphalt but rather with a mixture of salt and sand from the nearby dunes. When the mixture is dampened and compressed, a hard surface is formed which is ideal for supporting traffic—as long as there is no heavy rainfall, which is not normally a concern in this area.

Our first stop was at a lagoon—very beautiful with its smooth waters and brown mud rich in nutrients—where many different species of birds were resting and eating. First we saw huge flocks of cormorants and pelicans, and then a big collection of pink flamingos. We learned that this area is one of the major nesting areas for that bird, which flies all the way from Florida and the Caribbean to mate here. It was lovely! Then we turned north and headed out into the desert which surrounds the small settled enclave at Walvis Bay. Before very long it was as though we were in the most remote place on earth, with no sign of human occupation other than for the road itself. Huge sand dunes swept across the horizon, slowly marching westerly thanks to the prevailing winds. We gradually came closer to the dunes, and saw that most of them were tinged with dark patterns that were not shadows; when I asked what that was I was told that those patches were tiny fragments of iron which were blown by the wind and collected as the wind dropped them when it changed direction. Some of the iron patches were red and others were gray-black. It was fascinating to see!

Before long a particularly tall dune rose up and dominated the landscape. In this environment, with few landmarks to provide reference, it was difficult to tell just how high it was, but I eventually learned that this monster—named “Dune Seven”—rose over 1,000 feet above the surrounding desert floor! Our bus pulled off the highway, crossed over the Walvis Bay-Swakopmund-Windhoek Railway which paralleled the highway, and drove over to the foot of the dune. We were invited to debark the coach and explore the dune. Squeekie, of course, with all of her energy and a desire to climb rooted in her successful conquest of the Sydney Bridge—oh, that does seem a long time ago now—was eager to climb up the dune, which seemed deceptively easy until one realizes the difficulty of taking climbing steps in loose sand. Anyway, she went nearly to the top, and was photographed in her conquest both by our friend Bobbie and by me using my “whomping” telephoto lens. (In fact, Squeek was a bit unhappy with the pictures I took because the telephoto drew her so close that it does not look as though she went very far up the dune, when in fact she did!) Eventually she came back down, and we had our portrait taken together with the dune in the background—one more picture for the scrapbook!

Then it was back aboard the bus for the trip onward to Swakopmund, the once-German town that lies on the coast about thirty-five kilometers north of Walvis Bay. As we approached the town we passed a small building by the side of the road bearing a sign which announced: “The Martin Luther Museum.” As we zoomed by on the bus I wondered to myself: Martin Luther never came down here to this part of Africa, which was still essentially unknown to all but a handful of Europeans at the time when he lived, so why is there a museum here to him? Well, since then I have learned that “Martin Luther” refers not to the church reformer, but rather to a German-built steam traction engine (it ran on wheels like a tractor, not on rails like a locomotive) which was used to haul “trains” of wagons on the area’s roads in the early days before the railway was built. Somehow this device has survived the trials and tribulations of time, and what remains of it is displayed at this roadside museum. Now that I know this I am furious (!!!!!) that we did not stop for a few minutes so that I could have seen and photographed this mechanical wonder. . . .

The town of Swakopmund was another of the settlements dating back to the days when the region was a German colony. Founded in 1892, the town was located on the coast north of Walvis Bay at a place where a small port could be built to accommodate the comparatively smaller ships of that era; thus it became the port serving German South-West Africa. A railway was built from this port town into the interior between 1898 and 1902. As our bus came to the edge of town Squeekie was able to get a nice shot of a local freight train doing some switching at the wye which is the junction where the branch to Walvis Bay branches off from the original Swakopmund-Windhoek line. I am grateful that she got this shot because finding any kind of railway action in Africa was rare. This line is still in use, however, carrying freight from the port at Walvis Bay into the interior of the country.

Then we entered Swakopmund itself, where many of the outlying streets are paved, if that is the correct word to use, with that same sand and salt mixture to which I referred earlier. I must comment about this town that where else anywhere in the world can one find a street still named “Kaiser Wilhelm Strasse?” (Certainly NOT in Germany!) In her journal Squeekie said that this town also had buildings which looked as though they had been transplanted from Bavaria. That is true to some extent, but in nowhere near the number that could be found in Luderitz. In that city, which we had visited yesterday, economic decline had contributed to the preservation of colonial architecture, but Swakopmund had made less of an effort to do so and as a result sports far fewer original buildings from that era. Unquestionably, the loveliest of the structures remaining from earlier times is the former railway station, which recently was rebuilt into a shopping mall, but with preservation (and restoration) of its external design. (Apparently there is still a passenger train which runs from Swakopmund to the Namibian capital city of Windhoek some 380 kilometers to the east, but I saw no evidence of it in the brief time we were given to explore this interesting town.) In addition, although few buildings survive FROM that era, an effort has been made to build NEW structures preserving the feel of that time. In the free time we were given to explore the city on our own, Squeekie and I went to a street our guide had pointed out; it was a shopping street which sported a modern version of the German-style architecture; it was colourful but certainly not “quaint” in the sense that the surviving buildings in Luderitz had been. There were several German craft shops there, as well as bookstores and cafes. We purchased some books and Squeek bought some African animal napkin rings which will go nicely with the African-pattern placemats she purchased a few days ago in South Africa.

After this shopping expedition I decided to go down the hill to the local history museum, while Squeek continued with her shopping. As I walked down to the museum I passed a park where there was a very interesting war memorial. Only once before have I ever seen a memorial to the German dead of the 1914-1918 war (in the German National Railway Museum in Nuremburg), but here was one in Swakopmund! It is modern, that is, not built in the 1920s, but nonetheless it is interesting. The statuary is a German schutztruppe (colonial-era rifle soldier) standing over the apparently dead body of a South African infantry soldier wearing the British army uniform of 1914. I assume that this was memorializing the German troops who for nearly fifteen months did their best to hold off the much larger South African expeditionary force which had invaded their colony at the start of the First World War.

Also in this pleasant, grassy park were a number of native people, apparently families on outings or picnicking, I guess. What made this unusual is that in every case each girl and woman in every group of native people sported the local tribal couture, that is, topless! I must say that I am very unused to seeing topless women in any environment, and I was quite surprised. I did not take any pictures, but another tourist walking down to the museum unabashedly did. I later learned that this is a Namibian Bantu tradition, where girls or women who are eager for marriage announce their availability in this topless way. After this interesting cultural pronouncement I continued on to the museum. To me, the most interesting artifact on display there was a large, single cylinder, steam pump that was used in the early days to bring water into the city. It is well preserved and well displayed.

After joining back up with Squeekie but before rejoining our tour bus, we visited an open-air market where vendors were selling their wares, a common sight that we have experienced nearly everywhere on this trip around the world. We found nothing of interest. Then we reboarded the bus for the trip back to Walvis Bay. This drive was right along the coast; the blue (and cold) Atlantic washed up on one side and the golden-hued sand dunes dominated the other side. Part way back to Walvis we passed a resort complex which our tour guide announced was where Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolee had stayed when they had their baby; I was amused that this place was named “Long Beach.” How creative! We returned to the ship and ate a quick lunch, then visited the little market that vendors set up just outside the port area. We spent the last of our South African Rand notes on a painted plate.

Later that afternoon, while I napped in our stateroom, Squeekie went to a special event in the Queen’s Lounge. A choir of girls, all orphans from the Nordkamp Centre for AIDs Orphans, located in Windhoek, came and sang for the ship’s guests. This was the charity for which money had been raised through several events aboard the ship, including the Garage Sale a few days back. Squeekie said that about $5,000 (U.S.) had been gathered, an amount that was a tremendous help for this small charity. The girls, of whom the oldest was just 13 years old, apparently gave a wonderful performance. After the performance, the orphans were treated to a special lunch in the Lido, including a trip to the ice cream bar. Apparently they were thrilled, and there were not many dry eyes among the guests, either.

Squeekie then watched from the Lower Promenade Deck as the girls got off the ship. Each one had a new Holland-America teddy bear. At that point she came to the cabin to get me so that I could see this high-energy group of young people. While they gathered on the dock waiting for their vans to arrive, they saw that many ship guests were watching them, so they broke into an impromptu concert right there on the dock, singing and dancing informally. Oh, they loved those teddys, too! They cuddled with them, waved with them, and danced with them. Even grumpy old me was struck by this moment of innocent love and joy—even I had drippy eyes! This impromptu concert lasted for another forty-five minutes or so, and it was very sad when they finally did leave. But even as the vans drove off, several of the girls were waving their hands or their new teddys out the window. It was a very special moment, one that an old cynic like me needs to have in order to remember that not all humans are heartless.

Our ship was almost an hour late in leaving Walvis Bay because of another medical emergency. We later learned that the ship’s dentist had injured himself while riding some kind of ATM or motorcycle on the sand dunes outside Walvis; apparently he broke his collar bone and some ribs. He was removed from the ship and flown down to Cape Town for “repairs.”

Squeekie and I watched the sailaway from Walvis Bay into the westering sun from our usual outlook on Deck Six Forward until it became too cold. We watched the commercial activity in Walvis Bay retreat, and we passed the giant mining platforms which bring up diamonds from the sea floor off the coast of Namibia. It was our farewell to the African continent, and we were sorry to see it go. I must say that I really enjoyed this first visit to Africa, and desire to return, especially to South Africa and Namibia. It was a wonderful experience!

Now we are off to discover two of the remote islands in the South Atlantic, Saint Helena and Ascension. They will be the topic of my next blog report.