I love rock formations. Perhaps inherited from or spurred on by my mother, who would pick up pebbles and stones wherever we went on family trips through Namibia. From an early age, I was encouraged to peer tentatively at the ground or marvel at mountains. High school geography wasn't all it cracked up to be, I didn't become a geologist. Every road would have led me to this eventuality, writing a love letter to Damaraland and her rocks.
But you don't have to be a rock person to love Damaraland. The rocks grow on you, whether you like it or not.
Long before you see the first mopane tree - the most abundant source of green in this landscape - Damaraland begins to unfold. Driving northwest from Omaruru, the escarpment gradually drops. Through dips and turns, cascading hills and a meandering road through them, the snug valleys eventually give way to a rewarding expanse, dotted with granite mountains in the distance and mopane savannah all around. If it weren't for the beautiful stretch of road, and a village at the base of the mountain, you could easily mistake it for a dystopian sci-fi movie set. It's precisely the opposite. A very real utopia.
Frantically, I grab my phone and try to capture this cinematic masterpiece. It was at this moment, at the very beginning of our trip,
