ReitSafari HorseTrails Namibia - News & Reports (August 1992)

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A certain Feeling of Beauty - August 1992
by Susan Mitchinson, Swakopmund/Namibia

I joined the Reit Safari owned by Waltraut + Albert Fritzsche of the farm Hilton, situated 65 km southwest of Windhoek. Albert explained to me how his grandfather hag long ago trekked from the coast to Windhoek, and how he had wanted to follow in his footsteps. And this is exactly what we did.
There were eight of us in this multi-national group: three Germans, one British, three South Africans and myself. Waldi and Albert were our guides. All were there to experience the wonders of the Namib Desert. We were to ride 400 km in nine days in difficult conditions.

We spent an idyllic and peaceful Monday at Farm Hilton preparing for our journey. This part of the country is savannah and as I live in the dune desert myself, it was here that I ravenously drew trees, grass, cows and sheep. All the romance of the peace of nature met me here that first evening. The magnificent trees stood tall as the sheep gathered at the golden hour of dusk.

The memories of the days merge like a child's kaleidoscope. We left the farm early Tuesday morning in Indian file, all filled with excitement and apprehension. I remember with charm the duiker antelope, frozen still under a tree as we trotted through high lush grass. The rains had only recently ceased, leaving a waving sea of grass to navigate. At times it was like a mine field of antholes to be contoured. A fall could result in the end of the trail for horse or rider.

Romulus thought this was all quite thrilling except for the sight of cows and goats that were unfamiliar. He was also not impressed at our first midday halt under a tree, where he was tied up with the other horses. The sudden noise of a wind pump scared him into a bolt leaving half a bridle behind.

We rode the whole day except for a break at midday. Water is vital and water points were identified depending on their accessibility. Water and provisions had to be transported and the terrain made this a formidable task. Every evening we set up camp.

My first night in the wild had me anxious about my undertaking. We were riding through the central highland, approximately 2000 m above sea level. We seemed to make camp very near to the heavens. The horses slept attached along a wire with Romulus at one end. I took my folding mattress and slept next to my friend under the stars. It was bitterly cold. I felt lonely and needed his company. There is something reassuring about the chomping of hay, the odd whinny or the swishing of tails. We woke every morning at day break. It was always a glorious sunrise and each time a new beginning.

The following day has memories of mountain winds as we crossed the Hakos mountain range. There was a short stretch in a dry riverbed too difficult for the horses, so we walked along. Romulus unaccustomed to such terrain, slipped and I suffered a crushed foot. But that was forgiven when we saw Mountain zebra, kudu, oryx and springbuck. Leopard tracks were sighted. This fired my imagination and I would later use the images in the poetry of paintings. Imagine the Thrill of meeting a wild animal standing above us, at an advantage point, watching, monitoring...

But more excitement was to come. A visit down a disused gold mine. Terrified, I allowed myself to follow down the disused shafts. I felt the physical courage and work of men long ago. Their past dreams were in front of us. I could only admire the strength of those who worked and lived in such a harsh and tough environment.

After leaving the rolling curving mountains along Rooisand, we moved into the Namib-Naukluft-Park. The undisturbed harmony of nature began to touch us. Awesome were the vast spaces and flatness. Romulus and I began to meet our sort of terrain; the flat desert plains. He put his nose into the air, touched the breeze, arched his neck and felt homeward bound. Imagine stretches of desert that looked close by, but would take an afternoon to cross even at a gallop.

By this time, what was left of my bridle had also broken. I was forced to ride Romulus without a bit. Oh, what freedom, thought he! The forces of nature were showing their strength. Our legs were starting to suffer from hours of trotting and tempers frayed at times. The stress and heat were unforgiving. Yet, as the temperature cooled in the afternoon, we managed a few races to the mountains. We became more like the horses we were riding than the civilised creatures we had left behind, worrying about making money and a living. Special friendships were formed. We all held each other's hand at one time or another, giving encouragement.

After a week of riding, home was close. We hit the Welwitschia plain and rode through the moon landscape and into the Swakop River. Then it was over the sand dunes and down to the Atlantic Ocean. Romulus was home and felt he was now mature and would like to lead. The experience has left him confident and courageous. Myself, I translate the feeling of togetherness with nature into my pictures, the feeling of beauty and freedom.

(first published in Flamingo Magazine, 1992)

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