We woke up around the same time as the day before but managed to reach the gate sooner. However, more vehicles were ahead of us in line, so we weren't in the group that went in when the gate opened. We had to be checked individually. This being our last day we wanted to start early so we had plenty of time to get to Windhoek, turn in the truck and make the airport without any stress. We figured we would have to leave the area by 11am to catch our 5:40 departure. We got through the gate and followed along the main road as we did the prior morning. We were going back to Sossusvlei, and going to attempt a climb to the top of "Big Daddy", one of the biggest dunes in the area. We drove past Dune 45, with the sign for Hidden Vlei coming before we reached Dead Vlei and Sossusvlei. Perhaps I was driving too slowly, but we got bogged down in a patch of soft sand. Yesterday it was no problem - go figure. I got out and dug around the tires, and as I did a safari shuttle passed with a family. One of the 2 kids started laughing and pointing in our direction. I yelled some chastising words, the laughter stopped, as did the driver. His assistant, I assume, walked over asking if he could help but I had already dug away enough sand, so I said I was going to drive it out but he could if he liked. He did, and we were on our way. The people in the safari vehicle did not look our way as we pulled up beside of them. I was a bit pissed at the behavior of what I now recognized as their son, younger than their daughter. We parked and started our way to climb Big Daddy. They were apparently going there too. I was fully expecting either the child or one of the parents to address us and apologize for the rude behavior, but nothing was said, which only irritated me further. They were ahead of us, but Mom wasn't doing so well with her climb so we passed them, telling the father as I passed he should keep an eye on me as I might send him down the dune the fast way. I thought they were German and the chance they knew what I was saying was 50-50 at best, but Radhika recognized it was Dutch they were actually speaking, so it's certain they all knew exactly what I was saying. As we made our way along, the kids made their way past us several times, stopping to remove sand from their shoes as we passed them, and then removing their shoes entirely which had us passing them again. I was making a picture of Radhika on the top of the dune as she stood in front of me and the little pains in the ass ran by me and into my frame. I had already said something to them once about doing that, this time I just told them to stay the hell out of the way. Again, parents said and did nothing. We were both annoyed by these rude pests and their clueless parents. It's been my observation and there's some consensus during discussions when this topic arises that the Dutch spoil, and allow their children great latitude when it comes to their behavior. Of course that's not all, because our landlord seems to have two very sweet daughters. But I have seen tantrums here unlike any I've seen in the states. Small kids taking roundhouse swings at their parents. You ask a Dutch child in a theater to please stop talking and they look at you like you're the rude one! Anyway, we developed some distance from this group and went on.
There was still quite a distance to go, and I told Radhika that I was going to stop, as I was exhausted (and when I begin asking myself "why am I doing this?" and "am I enjoying this?” I know I've checked out). She went on, as the wind started to whip up a little stronger. I ran down the side of the dune all the way to the bottom, zigzagging as I went to make a cool pattern in the sand. Once at the bottom, I took off my shoes and emptied the ample amount of sand that had made it's way in. My shoes still felt oddly tight on my feet, however. It seems the sand had made it's way between layers and stitching, and nestled inside little pockets, what with the sand being so fine and powdery. I banged them in all different directions, and the sand finally came out in sufficient amount that I had a little more room in them when I got them back on. Radhika eventually came back down, saying she had not made it to the top, disappointingly for her, as the wind was getting very strong up there. So, we decided to walk back to the truck, as it was about 10 or so, and we had spent the better part of three hours out there. The wind was whipping up with each passing minute, and by the time we were at the truck the wind was blowing hard, visibility was dropping, and sand was flying at skin-stinging speed. We were in the beginnings of a sand storm. I slid into the drivers seat quickly, and turned the truck into the wind so Radhika could get in without filling the cab with the blowing sand. People were still walking out to the dunes, which I thought was not the brightest idea with the deteriorating conditions. We started off back, navigating a couple of the really soft sandy areas, but visibility dropped to near zero so I stopped the truck on the first hard-packed area we encountered and waited several minutes for it to clear up enough to see where we were going. Never have been in anything like that before! I was nervous and cautious. I needed to build up a little speed to get through the worst area of soft, deep sand, so no visibility means no reaction time to stop if we come upon a vehicle coming from the opposite direction. Getting stuck in the sand now was even less desirable than normal, because working outside would be tough and dangerous. Finally there was a break and visibility improved. We didn't have far to go, so with Radhika's eyes and input, we sped through the worst part and made it to the paved road. Visibility remained poor until we were past the dune area what with all the sand there was to be moved around by the high winds. We stopped at our camp for bathroom breaks and drove on, as we were right on schedule. It remained windy for us as we drove, but visibility became clear. However, about an hour later something happened that might be partially due to a burst of wind.
We were driving on a dirt road, which 90% of the roads in Namibia are constructed. It was a wide, hard-packed, smooth road with a posted speed limit of 100kph. Driving on a straight course, all of a sudden, gradually, the truck started veering to the right with the rear end of the truck slowly swinging left. We began to spin in a clock-wise direction. After what seemed like a few moments we were in the middle of the road moving in the direction of the right side, and "Oh shit." was all I said. I could see the banks of sand on both sides of the road that were made by the grader. If we stayed in the middle and just spun we would be okay, eventually coming to a stop or regaining traction with the road. But we continued to drift to the right side, and by the time we got to the edge we were traveling backwards, having made a 180-degree revolution. We hit the bank of dirt and immediately began to roll with force and violence. My hands were remained firmly on the wheel as the earth rotated before me through the windshield. But as windows blew out and the windshield smashed, dirt and sand inundated the cab. As I closed my eyes to keep the sand out, we hit hard upside down and I felt the top of my head hit something. It was painful enough for me to note it but not overpowering enough to distract me from what was happening. We continued to roll, as I loudly heard the crashing and impact sounds of what was happening, felt the discombobulating effects of the rolling vehicle, and felt the sand and debris swirling and hitting my face. After rolling twice completely, coming to a stop back on our wheels, I opened my eyes to destruction. I immediately turned to Radhika and asked if she was okay. She looked at me, and her expression, one I haven't seen before in 20+ years, conveyed immediate fear. She said I was bleeding, and was I ever. I felt the top of my head and it was warm and wet. Blood was all over me, my clothes, the dashboard, on her, and on the underlining. She grabbed the towel we had just bought a few days prior and I placed it on the top of my head and held it there. A small truck was coming down the road from the direction we had just been traveling, and I knocked out the small remaining pieces of glass in my window and flagged it down. I couldn't open my door so I made my way through the window. Radhika had to kick open her door. There was stuff from the truck strewn everywhere on the desert sand. The truck now faced the direction from which we came. My camera backpack and tripod was next to a prickly bush covered in sand, the laptop backpack was outside the vehicle, the tent and topper came off the bed, of course, and camping equipment was everywhere. The man stopped, and the 3 of us started picking up and putting stuff into the back of his truck. I continued to hold the towel and apply pressure with my left hand to the top of my head. The guy took us to a lodge 7km north in Solitaire, where we were given a room. I just stayed put while Radhika took care of everything. She was a trouper through the entire ordeal, staying strong after seeing her husband injured as I was, and handling everything and making necessary decisions.
The manager of the Solitaire Lodge inspected my head, and relayed what he saw to medical staff in Walvis Bay. I later learned it was at this time when they decided whether to fly me out or use ground transport. We had to wait for an ambulance to come from the nearest hospital, which was in Walvis Bay. Their expected arrival time was around 5pm. Radhika had some food delivered to the room from the restaurant, and as I felt better I was able to eat something. I was covered in sand, so feeling better also enabled me to shower, and Radhika carefully poured small amounts of water from a cup over my wound to remove as much sand as she could. I then waited comfortably in the room as the wind continued to howl outside. I was feeling almost back to normal when I noticed what looked like an EMT near the lodge courtyard. It was only 4pm, but they were here already. As I was asked questions about how I was feeling, the three men from Walvis Bay readied me for travel, placing an IV on me, putting a bandage on my head, and putting me on a gurney. It would be a three-hour drive back to their hospital, where I was told I would be overnight. They were able to accommodate our baggage in the ambulance, which at first we were told they might not be able to do. That was a big relief when they said it was no problem. I drifted in and out of sleep as we traveled across the bumpy and sometimes twisty dirt roads. They made one stop for a cigarette break (they checked my condition, but that seemed secondary to the need for nicotine). So I figured I couldn't be too bad off (right?). Radhika sat up front with the lead EMT who was driving, while the other two were in the back with me. They say they are in the area several times a week for vehicle accidents such as ours! And when we tried to pay the lodge for the room and food they wouldn't take it, saying they are there to help and can't take payment in that situation.
We arrived at the hospital right around 7pm, approximately 8 hours after the accident. I was checked out by a very nice "sister", which is the term used for a nurse most other places, and a doctor. I received several shots to numb the area and a spray was also used. The sister used a straight razor to shave part the area around the gash, and that was the most painful part of the treatment I received. Cleaning and disinfecting wasn't as painful, and the actual stitching felt more "weird" than painful. Never had anyone pull my scalp away from my skull before (although there was that kinky girl I dated a long time ago who had a scalp fetish). Radhika was allowed to stay in the room with me as they worked on me, and even made some photographs. If you are not comfortable with a visual rendition of what I just described, I suggest you don't go past the pictures of the damage to the truck when viewing the accompanying album. The doctor said I was lucky, as a major vein was narrowly missed. If that had been severed, he said my situation would have been dire. It seems blood vessels under the scalp do not collapse when cut, so loss of blood would've been a major problem. After the stitches were in place, nine to be exact, they placed a "glue" over them. That would help keep the skin together and protect it from infection as it heals. As it turned out I didn’t have to stay overnight. With a few suggestions coming from hospital staff, we got a taxi and had two hotels to consider for our overnight in Walvis Bay. The first had no availability, but the 2nd one did. We got a room, and the dinner buffet was kept open a little longer than their cut off time due to Radhika's request. So we ate dinner and retired for the night in a pretty nice room, which we both really needed after the day we had. The accident was replayed in my head over and over again that night until I fell asleep. I was still a little angry and befuddled about the accident - how did it happen? We were only about three hours away from turning in the truck and then catching our flight to Cape Town! I was so happy that Radhika was unharmed. That thought occupied my head throughout the afternoon and beyond. Turned out she was a little bruised. She was somewhat stressed by the event, but we both got a good nights sleep. We would wake tomorrow and figure how to go the four hours east to Windhoek and catch our flight, 24 hours delayed, to Cape Town.
The album for this post can be found at:
http://www.photoshop.com/user/johndp/?galleryid=f48795f8b77d4f8fb1468268bd4eacd9&trackingid=BTAGC&rlang=en_US&wf=sharegrid
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