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  • One of the most perfect stretches of road that we found in Namibia. Miles of perfect black tarmac with distinctive white markers created such geometry amongst thousands of acres of desert sand. As with most man-made things that I observed in Namibia, they all seemed slightly incongruous within such vast wilderness landscape.
    GD002285.jpg
  • Honourable Mention in the 13th Black & White Spider Awards 2018<br />
<br />
This is a deserted mining town in Western Namibia. In 1909 diamonds were found here and an industrial hamlet developed. Since then however diamonds are mostly found elsewhere and so this place went into decline. The small industrial complex is forever fighting to remain above the gale-blown desert sands but it’s still an incredible place to visit, as so little has changed at all since the early twentieth century. It’s quite eerie standing inside the large derelict buildings, the wind literally howling through the broken windows and doors, sand-dunes visibly creating within the broken interiors as you watch
    GD002289.jpg
  • Under intense sunshine, surrounded by arid plains and distant mountains, we blasted along deserted dust roads in this vast empty space. It was quite a surprise on reaching the brow of an infinite hill, to suddenly see isolated trees dotted around. They were more like surreal incongruous sculptures than any object of normality. <br />
This is what we found about Namibia, that the landscapes although huge, do vary. It almost imperceptible at first but you come to realise that you are indeed no longer in the same place you were!
    GD002277.jpg
  • This was our first sight of the dust roads of Namibia, shortly after the border control. There is a township just to the left of this image, and many of the inhabitants seem to be working in the agricultural industries based along the lush banks of the Orange River. After this sudden appearance of sand dunes pushing up mountain sides, the dust road disappeared into vast uninhabited volcanic plains, and we hardly saw a car or person throughout several hours of desert driving.
    GD002251.jpg
  • This is one of the main roads into Southern Namibia, shortly after leaving the border control on the Orange River. We had passed an isolated garage and a few kms later an agriculturally based township, but then we went around a bend of an escarpment and over a hill, and were faced with this arid but incredible desert landscape. We drove for over an hour on this harsh dirt track, without seeing another car. There were no towns, no hamlets, no roadside stores, not even telegraph or electricity lines. It was barren. No animals to be seen, no birds of any sort and no signs of snakes or scorpions or in fact anything. Stepping outside the car I entered an oven of heat, into the 40ºs and surprising silence. The landscape was vast and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such a huge, empty, lonely space - but I loved it, I enjoyed the vulnerability it created and the recognition that I was really, truly alive - as little else at that moment at least, seemed to be. <br />
<br />
I knew I was going to enjoy this country.
    GD002252.jpg
  • Under intense sunshine, surrounded by arid plains and distant mountains, we blasted along deserted dust roads in this vast empty space. It was quite a surprise on reaching the brow of an infinite hill, to suddenly see isolated trees dotted around. They were more like surreal incongruous sculptures than any object of normality. <br />
This is what we found about Namibia, that the landscapes although huge, do vary. It almost imperceptible at first but you come to realise that you are indeed no longer in the same place you were!
    GD002276.jpg
  • Under intense sunshine, surrounded by arid plains and distant mountains, we blasted along deserted dust roads in this vast empty space. It was quite a surprise on reaching the brow of an infinite hill, to suddenly see isolated trees dotted around. They were more like surreal incongruous sculptures than any object of normality.  <br />
<br />
This is what we found about Namibia, that the landscapes although huge, do vary. It almost imperceptible at first but you come to realise that you are indeed no longer in the same place you were!
    GD002275.jpg
  • I’ve seen elephants in zoos, restricted, moving around in circles, stared at by the thousands of noisy visitors - such a desperate form of existence. In the 111 year old and 22,270 km² Etosha National Park in North West Namibia however, I was for the first time able to see these truly magnificent creatures in their natural habitat. Watching David Attenborough programs is always a delight but nothing prepares you for the sheer awe of seeing these animals in real life in their own world.<br />
<br />
From the heavily corrugated dust track, the first thing I saw was what looked like a huge rounded boulder beyond a hillock, but as we drove to the crest of the mound we realised it was in fact the head of a huge African elephant standing at a waterhole! This was real & I’ve never felt so small or humbled by wildlife. There are strict instructions never to leave your vehicle whilst in the park so I had to accept that looking out of the window was the best I was going to get.<br />
<br />
Around us herds of Zebra were drinking, running and frolicking with each other. Springbok daintily skipped past & Oryx and Giraffe were there too. Hundreds of birds flitted about & falcons & other birds of prey circled overhead. It was a visual tapestry of wildlife with so many species all measuring each other up and acknowledging the hierarchies at the hole. What struck me most was the grace of motion of the elephants. Every movement of foot or trunk was slow, fluid & purposeful. At times they were just like living statues, almost motionless, just studying the world about them, and at other times when walking, able to cover big distances so quickly but so gently. I was aware that they were aware of us, large eyeballs measuring us up but not seeming irritated or intimidated.<br />
<br />
It was hard (especially from the car window) to take in the reality of it all rather than still imagining it was a TV program. I also felt deeply sad that it’s only a matter of time before wild elephants are hunted to extinction.
    GD002257.jpg
  • The Blue Crane, (Anthropoides paradiseus) critically endangered in Namibia, occurs exclusively in the Etosha National Park and the Omadhiya lakes, a series of oshanas (seasonally flooded lakes) to the north of the park. To see this rare bird, tourists often visit areas near the Chudop waterhole in the Namutoni area, Salvadora in the Halali area, and recently at Nebrownii, east of Okaukuejo in Namibia’s most famous park.
    GD002411
  • These Cape Fur Seals were fascinating, beautiful creatures, with very cute seal pups! However, the smell was overpowering from the smell of fish, excrement, urine and death. There were many dead seal pups, which looked to have been crushed by the sheer weight of adult Cape Fur Seals as they charge around the colony. <br />
<br />
Sadly and unbelievably, Namibia permits the mass clubbing of 80,000 seal pups and 6000 adult bulls, over a four-month period every year. This is for fur and blubber but they claim it’s to protect fish stocks! Full details here:  http://www.harpseals.org/about_the_hunt/cape_fur_seal_alert.php<br />
<br />
I was completely captivated by this incredible seal colony, but I was left dumbstruck by the barbaric slaughter that is permitted here each year. Fortunately South Africa have now banned all such clubbing, but it remains here in Namibia
    GD002273.jpg
  • I’ve seen elephants in zoos of course, restricted, moving around in circles, stared at by the thousands of noisy visitors - such a desperate form of existence. In the 22,270 km² Etosha National Park in NW Namibia however, I was for the first time able to see these truly magnificent creatures in their natural habitat. Watching David Attenborough programs on TV is always a delight, but nothing prepares you for the sheer awe of seeing these animals in real life in their own world.<br />
.<br />
From the heavily corrugated dust track we were on, the first thing I saw was what looked like a huge rounded granite boulder over the top of a hillock, but as we drove to the crest of the mound we realised it was in fact the head of a huge African elephant standing at a waterhole! This was real and I’ve never felt so small or humbled by natural wildlife. There are strict instructions never to leave your vehicle whilst in the park, so I had to accept that looking out of the window of our 4x4 was the best I was going to get.<br />
.<br />
All around us herds of Zebra were also drinking, running & frolicking with each other. Springbok daintily skipped past & Oryx & Giraffes were all there too. Hundreds of birds flitted about and falcons and other birds of prey circled overhead. It was a visual tapestry of wildlife with so many species all measuring each other up and acknowledging the hierarchies at the hole. What struck me most was the grace of motion of the elephants. Every movement of foot or trunk was slow, fluid & purposeful. At times they were just like living statues, almost motionless, just studying the world about them & at other times when walking, able to cover big distances so quickly but so gently. I was aware that they were aware of us, large eyeballs measuring us up but not seeming irritated or intimidated.<br />
.<br />
It was hard (especially looking from the car window) to take in the reality of it all rather than still imagining it was a TV program. I also felt deeply sad that it’s only a mat
    GD002258.jpg
  • Never seen anything like it. We were on the road to wind blown Atlantic coastal town of Luderitz and a few miles before we arrived the effects of the wind could already be seen. At some points you could hardly see in front of the car and at other sand drifts had built across the road. I stepped out of the car on this near deserted road and was instantly sand-blasted by stinging grains of fast-blown crystals. I was amazed that there was even a road as the sand blew so constantly across the landscape.
    GD002286.jpg
  • The huge open desert becomes a blank canvas for Daliesque surrealism when incongrous objects suddenly appear out of nowhere. There was noyhing behind me and nothing beyond except for distant hills. <br />
<br />
To come across this derelict house, alongside a railway that stretches as far as the eye can see and on which we never saw a train, really did make us question ‘why’ and ‘who would have lived there’. Genuinely surreal and a taste of things to come in the deserted mining town miles ahead.
    GD002284.jpg
  • In the middle of a near barren Namib Desert, looking like a fishing net with floats entwined, bitter Tsamma melons (Citrullus ecirrhosus) or Namib tsamma, a species of perennial desert vine can be found growing in the baked earth.<br />
<br />
It is a gourd, and can be found in Namibia and South Africa, but particularly the Namib Desert.<br />
<br />
It can be a vital source of water and when cooked can be eaten. There are sweeter varieties.
    GD002272.jpg
  • After miles of dirt-road driving through vast empty desert landscape, it was quite a shock to see anything man-made other than the road itself, let alone signs that indicated that civilisation actually existed somewhere amongst this isolation. It was a blast of ‘normality’ and ‘order’ yet seemed utterly incongruous to our surroundings. I loved the surreality of it all.
    GD002254.jpg
  • A hundred million years ago this huge basin in the Etosha National Park was a lake, fed by the Kunene River in Angola, but 16,000 years ago, due to tectonic plate movement the river was diverted West to the Atlantic and gradually the lake dried up leaving this vast lake bed. At 4800 km² this saltpan, the largest in Africa, can be seen from space.<br />
<br />
I’d wanted to see this surreal landscape for a long time, and surprising though it may seem to others, this appealed to me even more than seeing the wildlife in the park! There is this deep need within me to experience vast empty spaces; it’s all part of that humbling vulnerability that I seek. I wanted to feel minute, isolated and insignificant in every possible term. It was difficult of course with anyone else around but fortunately I had a sense of it with just Jani and her two cousins around. We drove out onto the lake (on an ‘official’ stick marked track) and stepped into the baking heat. There was simply nothing ahead of us, almost 50kms to the far side and almost 60 kms to the left and right – it was vast indeed.<br />
<br />
The earth was soft and crumbly rather than rock hard. I can imagine in rain it would get very soft indeed. I’ve read that in prolonged heavy rain the whole lake bed floods up to 10cm deep creating an incredible mirror –like surface which attracts thousands of migrating flamingos.
    GD002260.jpg
  • I don’t even know how it got there but a way off the dirt track had slumped this old truck, its faded layers of eroded paintwork peppered with shot-gun holes. <br />
<br />
Abandoned and left to nature and the elements, this vehicle jolted within me the recognition that nothing lasts forever, that eventually everything becomes dust, but in the meantime is a marker for own place along that road, literally.
    GD002255.jpg
  • One of many giraffes at the Etosha Reserve, Namibia
    GD002315.jpg
  • Still hundreds of kilometres from the coast but I still felt a sense that I was nearing the ocean, I’m not even sure why; perhaps the subtly changing light or wind direction or perhaps just that intuition you have when you’ve been raised near the sea. <br />
<br />
The earth was rich and warm-toned here, lots of red and yellow soils and an increase in vegetation growing on it. There was a gentle breeze but the air was still in the mid 40°s. <br />
<br />
One of the downsides to distance travelling, is that there is years’ worth of exploration to do even within a small area but we were eating up 500kms or more each day - so much space, so little time.
    GD002283.jpg
  • In a landscape that seems so barren, pockets of life form a sort of vegetated oasis. Where there are trickles of water during rain, shrubs grow. Where shrubs grow tress seem to grow, and where trees grow dozens of Weaver Birds flit in and out of huge nests that they have built in the branches. The tree of life is such a cliché but this dead tree really was enabling bird life at least, to survive in these harsh conditions.
    GD002280.jpg
  • After wild and exposed stretches of the Skeleton Coast, we drove past the very busy port of Walvis Bay. The differences were huge, the narrow but endless roads were suddenly busy with heavy trucks and traffic leaving and entering the port. As we drove further south however the traffic eased once again, but signs of man, settlement and ‘civilisation’ were present for many miles further before gradually evaporating once again. These man-made structures appeared incongruous in the blowing desert sands, creating a surreal landscape of man and nature, but more than that – it was the tenacity of man and invention that enables society to survive in otherwise barren terrain.
    GD002274.jpg
  • We arrived at the wreck location, as always in Namibia miles from anywhere. It was a beautiful summer morning, the sand so hot you could not walk barefoot. The wind had furrowed the beach into long undulating ripples, and amongst the patterns lay this small remnant of a shipwreck. It was surreal, a vast tract of soft white sand punctured by shards of rusty broken hull. I loved the incongruity of it all.<br />
.<br />
I shot two frames before out of nowhere a dark Toyota Landcruiser appeared. They could see me photographing but that made no difference. It drove towards me, passengers hanging over the side of the truck, beers in hand, shouting and jeering at me. Their tyre tracks carved up the beautiful white sand surrounding the wreck, ending the shoot there and then. A huge 20 stone fat man sat in an armchair buckled into the rear of the truck; two fat kids and three muscle-bound rednecks pulled faces as their truck circled around to come and carve up even more of the scene I’d been photographing. These were not the sorts of people you’d want to engage with, so I just packed up my camera and without any gestures of annoyance, made my way back to our van.<br />
.<br />
Thankfully I’d grabbed this frame before the morons arrived but the strange beauty, the vivid sense of history in wilderness, had been ruined for me. Such a shame that wherever you go in the world, there always at least one sad individual ready to spoil thing for others.
    GD002271.jpg
  • I’ve wanted to go to this vast, deserted coastline since I was a child. In my late teens I saw a picture in National Geographic of a lion prowling along a sandy beach, with a shipwreck in the background and it just stuck within me, always vivid. <br />
<br />
Of course those moments caught on film, are often rare and once in a lifetime, so it was perhaps no surprise that on my first visit to the incredible and weather-dramatic Skeleton Coast in January, I didn’t see my lion! However, the sheer scale of the coastline, the dense fogs that roll in from above the cold upwellings in the Atlantic Ocean, sometimes reducing visibility to a few feet, was awe-inspiring. Couple this with the numerous shipwrecks that strew this coastline and it really is surreal as well as exciting. Several of the major wrecks are within restricted diamond mining zones but a few are accessible to the visitor, such as this one here. I had to go early morning as crowds normal build up later in the day. <br />
<br />
This ship has become a permanent roost for hundreds of cormorants and seabirds.
    GD002265.jpg
  • Easy to be inspired by elephants, giraffes and even leopards, but when seen in isolation, even herd animals display characters of their own.<br />
<br />
This Red Hartebeest hardly batted an eye-lid as we pulled up nearby, and she just looked so forlorn. I wanted to give her a hug!
    GD002262.jpg
  • Winning entry in the 2019 (31st) SUN Shot up North Awards<br />
<br />
In the middle of nowhere in a vast and inhospitable landscape, we came across an elderly looking man removing large stones from the dirt road. It was certain death in that climate but about a mile further on, we came across this mobile shelter, a workman’s refuge. <br />
It was surreal, almost incongruous in this desert environment. We could only assume that at some point later in the day, a work bus would come and free this man from this vast workplace.
    GD002253.jpg
  • In a landscape that seems so barren, pockets of life form a sort of vegetated oasis. Where there are trickles of water during rain, shrubs grow. Where shrubs grow tress seem to grow, and where trees grow dozens of Weaver Birds flit in and out of huge nests that they have built in the branches. The tree of life is such a cliché but this dead tree really was enabling bird life at least, to survive in these harsh conditions.
    GD002281.jpg
  • It may sound daft, but I was as fascinated by the unending miles of open dust road as I was with the incredible volcanic desert landscape. <br />
<br />
I’ve never been anywhere else in the world (yet) where I can drive for hundreds of kilometres on dust roads without seeing a car for hours. In one way it was a little freaky, for if you break down it could well be a LONG wait in 45º of sweltering heat before anyone might come by and help you, but equally, that same sense of isolation and vulnerability is what made the journey so adventurous and awesome.
    GD002279.jpg
  • Sort of incredible. No rivers or streams, no grassland, no rain, just arid rocky earth in the middle of a desert, yet amidst this ‘nothingness’ not only does life take hold but it does it so strikingly. This tree had such a large trunk that supported boughs and so many branches, twigs and leaves. I know there are good scientific reasons why life can survive where it seems impossible, but there is still something rather awe-inspiring  when you confront such a miracle in such an inhospitable place!
    GD002278.jpg
  • Generally we didn’t see much in the way of large wildlife as we travelled across the high open roads of Namibia, sometimes Ostrich, sometimes Baboons but here on the Skeleton Coast not much at all.<br />
<br />
As we watched volcanic hills to the right and acres of white sand dunes to the left, slip past us as we motored North along the baking-hot salt roads, I was quite taken aback to see a sudden movement off to our right. There were two Black-backed Jackals, one scampering about, skittish even, but the other almost motionless. We pulled the van over and waited a few moments to see if they’d be bothered by us, but nothing changed. I very gently stepped out of the van and lay on the burning ground so that I could steady the telephoto lens and also include some of the background hills.<br />
Although the active one immediately moved away after I exited the vehicle the other was clearly eating something and confidently remained in place. I was surprised that he’d found anything to eat in the deserted arid landscape, but knowing that they’d even eat spiders an scorpions I suddenly started worrying about what I was lying on! I couldn’t help but see them just as a dog, like a small Alsatian, and I had this urge to call it over and give it a stroke! No chance however, for as soon as I started to move from prone position, it began to walk slowly away. As I lifted the camera to take another pic it shifted further away again. It was clear my Doctor Doolittle dream was just that as soon they were just dots on the dusty horizon.
    GD002268.jpg
  • I’ve wanted to go to this vast, deserted coastline since I was a child. In my late teens I saw a picture in National Geographic of a lion prowling along a sandy beach, with a shipwreck in the background and it just stuck within me, always vivid.<br />
<br />
Of course those moments caught on film, are often rare and once in a lifetime, so it was perhaps no surprise that on my first visit to the incredible and weather-dramatic Skeleton Coast in January, I didn’t see my lion! However, the sheer scale of the coastline, the dense fogs that roll in from above the cold upwellings in the Atlantic Ocean, sometimes reducing visibility to a few feet, was awe-inspiring. Couple this with the numerous shipwrecks that strew this coastline and it really is surreal as well as exciting. Several of the major wrecks are within restricted diamond mining zones but a few are accessible to the visitor, such as this one here. I had to go early morning as crowds normal build up later in the day.<br />
This ship has become a permanent roost for hundreds of cormorants and seabirds.
    GD002266.jpg
  • At the waterhole most of the animals seem to be acutely aware of the presence of other creatures even as they forage, eat and drink. Today however, as the giraffe nibbled at the succulent leaves in the tall trees, a dramatic storm was building behind. There was soon the rumble of thunder and shortly afterwards gigantic fork lightening cracked through the dark skies and punched any tall object below.
    GD002264.jpg
  • The story goes that someone tried to drive his 4x4 across this vast lake bed, and was never seen again’ <br />
<br />
A hundred million years ago this huge basin in the Etosha National Park was a lake, fed by the Kunene River in Angola, but 16,000 years ago, due to tectonic plate movement the river was diverted West to the Atlantic and gradually the lake dried up leaving this vast lake bed. At 4800 km² this saltpan, the largest in Africa, can be seen from space.<br />
<br />
I’d wanted to see this surreal landscape for a long time, and surprising though it may seem to others, this appealed to me even more than seeing the wildlife in the park! There is this deep need within me to experience vast empty spaces; it’s all part of that humbling vulnerability that I seek. I wanted to feel minute, isolated and insignificant in every possible term. It was difficult of course with anyone else around but fortunately I had a sense of it with just Jani and her two cousins around. We drove out onto the lake (on an ‘official’ stick marked track) and stepped into the baking heat. There was simply nothing ahead of us, almost 50kms to the far side and almost 60 kms to the left and right – it was vast indeed.<br />
<br />
The earth was soft and crumbly rather than rock hard. I can imagine in rain it would get very soft indeed. I’ve read that in prolonged heavy rain the whole lake bed floods up to 10cm deep creating an incredible mirror –like surface which attracts thousands of migrating flamingos.
    GD002263.jpg
  • Amongst a herd of Burchell’s zebra either side of the dust track in Western Etosha (Namibia) two in particular were very frisky, or playful, or cheesed off, because they spent ages jumping up against each other and chasing each other. <br />
<br />
Generally I tend to dismiss the zebra as if they are just domestic farm animals, but when I really look they are fascinating in their colouration and patterns, and when they reared up like in this image I saw them for the first time as striking animals in their own right (pun unavoidable!)
    GD002261.jpg
  • A hundred million years ago this huge basin in the Etosha National Park was a lake, fed by the Kunene River in Angola, but 16,000 years ago, due to tectonic plate movement the river was diverted West to the Atlantic and gradually the lake dried up leaving this vast lake bed. At 4800 km² this saltpan, the largest in Africa, can be seen from space.<br />
<br />
I’d wanted to see this surreal landscape for a long time, and surprising though it may seem to others, this appealed to me even more than seeing the wildlife in the park! There is this deep need within me to experience vast empty spaces; it’s all part of that humbling vulnerability that I seek. I wanted to feel minute, isolated and insignificant in every possible term. It was difficult of course with anyone else around but fortunately I had a sense of it with just Jani and her two cousins around. We drove out onto the lake (on an ‘official’ stick marked track) and stepped into the baking heat. There was simply nothing ahead of us, almost 50kms to the far side and almost 60 kms to the left and right – it was vast indeed.<br />
<br />
The earth was soft and crumbly rather than rock hard. I can imagine in rain it would get very soft indeed. I’ve read that in prolonged heavy rain the whole lake bed floods up to 10cm deep creating an incredible mirror –like surface which attracts thousands of migrating flamingos.
    GD002259.jpg
  • The landscape altered, subtly at first, but shrubs and small trees started to grip the pure rock and dirt of the previous day. <br />
<br />
Two minutes after this image was taken, a motionless small tree ran across the road in front of us - our first wild ostrich! Nature was quietly making an appearance the further North we drove.
    GD002256.jpg
  • Nominated image in the 13th Black & White Spider Awards 2018<br />
<br />
<br />
This is the deserted mining town of Kolmonskop in Western Namibia. In 1909 diamonds were found here and this industrial hamlet developed. The nearby harbour town of Lüderitz nearby also gained rapid prosperity.<br />
<br />
Since then however diamonds are mostly found elsewhere and so these towns went into decline. This small industrial complex is forever fighting to remain above the gale-blown desert sands but this and Lüderitz are still incredible places to visit as so little has changed at all since the early twentieth century.<br />
<br />
It’s quite eerie standing inside the large derelict buildings, the winds literally howling through the broken windows and doors and dunes almost visibly being created in front of your eyes.
    GD002288.jpg
  • The Milky Way gradually comes into view in a crystal clear sky over our hut at the We Kabi Safari Lodge (Maltahöhe) in central Nambia. The heat was intense even at night and although the thatched roof looked fantastic, the lack of fan and air conditioning made sleep almost impossible.<br />
<br />
Outside however the air was cool enough to enjoy just staring at the incredible night sky. This was the darkest sky I’ve ever seen and it depicted the stars and constellations with a clarity that I’ve never before experienced.
    GD002282.jpg
  • What would have been rather gloomy interiors of this old diamond mining town, the most beautiful shards of light from broken rooftops pierced the darkness and patterned the coloured walls. Wind howled at the windows and doors but there was relative calm within the sand-filled dilapidated rooms. It was slightly freaky imagining the conditions for the native workers at the height of the diamond boom there.
    GD002291.jpg
  • Wonderful colours in this old & dilapidated diamond-mine building. The hole in the floor was a most surreal illusion.
    GD002290.jpg
  • The architecture of this town has a very colonial influence. First mapped by the Portuguese, in 1883 Germany aristocrat Adolf Lüderitz purchased some of the original harbour area and surrounding land and developed the town as a fishing and trading post. In 1909 diamonds were found in nearby Kolmanskop and Lüderitz gained rapid prosperity. Since then however diamonds have mostly been found elsewhere and so the town went into decline. It’s still an incredible place to visit as so little of the town has changed at all since the early twentieth century.
    GD002287.jpg
  • It was somewhat unnerving being isolated amongst the burning and sharp white sands of the dunes beside the Skeleton Coast. In the foreground you can see Jackal footprints but our guide, who remained in the van, says that he’s wild camped out here and one morning he opened the zip to his tent, to see a huge dark and menacing looking Hyena in the fog just beyond him.<br />
<br />
In the silence I thought I’d be able to hear any approaching beast of the dunes but then I noticed my own footsteps were silent, so theirs definitely would be. I also noticed deeper, heavier set footprints across one of the dunes and I started to imagine that at any moment I’d go over a small hillock and see the beast staring up at me from the dip below. <br />
<br />
As it happened I never saw any wild canines, but instead thoroughly enjoyed the surreal sense of being lost in the inhospitable white terrain all about me.
    GD002269.jpg
  • We’d started out early that morning from Swakopmund, in thick fog, heading for the coast. When we arrived at our location there appeared a glow of light from the East and before long bursts of sunshine illuminated the beach, contrasting it against the dark fog behind. <br />
<br />
The air was chilly, even in the African summer, but the gentle waves of sunlight were a welcome warmth.  The roar of the waves on this exposed Atlantic coast was relentless but strangely familiar after many days in a heatwave in the Namibian desert.
    GD002267.jpg
  • Within the expanse of hot white sand which stretched for miles here on the Skeleton Coast, a wonderful bubbling of hard-rock granite baked in the midday sun. Small weakneses in the rock had become fissues, divinding the stone hillock into strange and beautiful sculpted landscape. <br />
<br />
I tried walking on the exposed surface barefoot, to experience the textures and shape but my feet melted! The cold Atlantic Ocean in the distance had no cooling effect on this parched earth
    GD002270.jpg
  • A solitary Quiver Tree bakes in afternoon sunlight in the middle of a vast desert landscape south the Orange River (the border between South Africa and Namibia)
    GD002250.jpg
  • Nominated for 11th International B&W Spider Awards<br />
<br />
Walking in the baking heat of the desert landscape in Northern Fuerteventura, my mouth was dry, my skin burned, the air seemed to suck moisture direct from my lungs. The wind whipped sand across my legs and every step in the soft sand was an effort in the middy sunshine. <br />
<br />
At the back of a beach these would be no more than fun dunes but even in this very small piece of landscape, the distant hills seemed even further away than I’d imagined, and each sandy hill was a mountain that defeated uphill progress. I found a drinks can, so beaten by the ultraviolet radiation and intense conditions that it was completely devoid of its original colours and was breaking down in structure. <br />
<br />
And yet, despite the extreme sensations I was experiencing, there was a beauty in the hostile environment, a delicate aesthetic that lures you in to its heart; unspoiled virginal white sand sculpted by nature into wonderful curvaceous shapes. <br />
<br />
Every time I revisit this island I am drawn back to this mini desert, but it has left me with a thirst to experience more vast and impressive deserts. Is it that the shifting surfaces and the labyrinthine of changing landscape features makes these places more magical, or surreal? It may be that we are visiting Namibia in 2018 so my curiosity and hunger for these places may be sated.
    GD001441
  • Walking in the baking heat of the desert landscape in Northern Fuerteventura, my mouth was dry, my skin burned, the air seemed to suck moisture direct from my lungs. The wind whipped sand across my legs and every step in the soft sand was an effort in the middy sunshine. <br />
<br />
At the back of a beach these would be no more than fun dunes but even in this very small piece of landscape, the distant hills seemed even further away than I’d imagined, and each sandy hill was a mountain that defeated uphill progress. I found a drinks can, so beaten by the ultraviolet radiation and intense conditions that it was completely devoid of its original colours and was breaking down in structure. <br />
<br />
And yet, despite the extreme sensations I was experiencing, there was a beauty in the hostile environment, a delicate aesthetic that lures you in to its heart; unspoiled virginal white sand sculpted by nature into wonderful curvaceous shapes. <br />
<br />
Every time I revisit this island I am drawn back to this mini desert, but it has left me with a thirst to experience more vast and impressive deserts. Is it that the shifting surfaces and the labyrinthine of changing landscape features makes these places more magical, or surreal? It may be that we are visiting Namibia in 2018 so my curiosity and hunger for these places may be sated.
    GD001449.jpg
  • Walking in the baking heat of the desert landscape in Northern Fuerteventura, my mouth was dry, my skin burned, the air seemed to suck moisture direct from my lungs. The wind whipped sand across my legs and every step in the soft sand was an effort in the middy sunshine. <br />
<br />
At the back of a beach these would be no more than fun dunes but even in this very small piece of landscape, the distant hills seemed even further away than I’d imagined, and each sandy hill was a mountain that defeated uphill progress. I found a drinks can, so beaten by the ultraviolet radiation and intense conditions that it was completely devoid of its original colours and was breaking down in structure. <br />
<br />
And yet, despite the extreme sensations I was experiencing, there was a beauty in the hostile environment, a delicate aesthetic that lures you in to its heart; unspoiled virginal white sand sculpted by nature into wonderful curvaceous shapes. <br />
<br />
Every time I revisit this island I am drawn back to this mini desert, but it has left me with a thirst to experience more vast and impressive deserts. Is it that the shifting surfaces and the labyrinthine of changing landscape features makes these places more magical, or surreal? It may be that we are visiting Namibia in 2018 so my curiosity and hunger for these places may be sated.
    GD001443.jpg
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Glyn Davies, Professional Photographer and Gallery

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