Namibia Sand, Stars & Safari

One of the most sparsely populated countries on Earth, Namibia is a byword for vast landscapes shaped by fierce elemental forces. From the blustery, shipwreck-strewn Skeleton Coast and wildlife utopia of Etosha in the north, through the central region — home to extreme sports hub Swakopmund and the capital, Windhoek — to the ochre dunes of Sossusvlei and the mighty Fish River Canyon in the south, this is Africa at its most wild and raw. The country’s offering to travellers is developing apace: be it safari, sandboarding or camping under the stars, adventure beckons, with new lodges and camps blossoming in remote regions. And the nation’s fascinating indigenous history and bush lore are being preserved and protected in captivating new Living Museums

- Emma Gregg & Hannah Summers

WHERE OCEAN MEETS DUNE

The otherworldly landscapes of northwest Namibia — from the windswept dunes of the Skeleton Coast to arid wildernesses of the Hoanib Valley — threaten to upstage both the wildlife and the remote luxury lodges that call it home. Words: Hannah Summers

Just metres away, a week-old lion cub creeps out from the shade and looks me straight in the eye. Above him, red rock stretches into a cyan sky; below him, the dusty expanse of the Hoanib riverbed. He inches out further before his mother uncurls from her afternoon siesta and plucks him up with her mouth and returns to their cave.

In a normal safari, a sighting of a pride of just-born, desert-adapted lion cubs would be the highlight of the day. And yet, I’m distracted. For the first time on my trip to Namibia, wildlife isn’t the main draw; around me is a landscape so magnificent that it demands my almost undivided attention.

With a population of just 2.5 million people, and a landmass the size of France and England combined, untouched wilderness isn’t in short supply in Namibia. But here in the Hoanib Valley, it takes on a whole new meaning.

My journey here started the previous day. I parked my rental vehicle in the village of Sesfontein, where I was collected by Ramon, my soft-spoken guide from the Hoanib Valley Camp. “It’s a three-or-so-hour transfer,” he told me. I suppressed a groan.