Etosha. It's such an exotic word. It's the sound of an elephant's trunk moving through water, a dry breeze through mopane leaves, rain falling on parched earth, ostriches dancing. But it's also the sound of currency leaving your wallet as you fork out for the privilege of being there. Etossshhaaaa. As a result, I'd never gone before but the allure was always niggling and finally it had to be done ... in a way that wouldn't break the bank.

So it was that we came to be standing at Windhoek's airport in the hot night air looking at our new car. We'd hired the second-cheapest through Expedia and Thrifty car rentals and it turned out that our Namibian adventure was going to take place in a vehicle about the size of a horse - the Kia Picanto.

Suddenly I had my doubts that this was a good idea, but as they were closing up the entire airport - really, all the lights had been switched off - there was no time to deliberate. We squeezed in our bags - which filled the whole car - and set off.

Next step was to arrange a little bit of comfort for our camping. If you're on a budget then camping is the way to go. Chalets are enviable things with their beds and en suite bathrooms and kitchens and standing room, but they're also usually three times the price. The issue with this is that you need equipment.

We'd brought some with us - tent, sleeping bags and some knives and forks, but we needed a few more things. Luckily we could rent everything else we needed for just a few Namibian dollars a day.

So by very ingenious packing we added a table, camping chairs, a gas canister, mattresses and a cooler box to our Picanto in a way that allowed us to still see out of the windows - most of them. Add a few bags of groceries and we were away.

Light on fuel and light on car, we zoomed north up the highway into ever-increasing nothingness. Acacias dotted the landscape and pale chanting goshawks floated above. We passed numerous well-equipped 4x4s laden with trailers and rooftop tents, their occupants raising eyebrows at our compactness.

A few hours later we pulled into Etosha Safari Camp and were met with a cold drink, free ice for our cooler box and an empty and really attractive campsite. Mopane trees shaded us and thorn-free lawns meant we could discard hot shoes and sink our toes into the earth as we set up the tent.

The Etosha Safari Camp is situated just 9km from the park's Andersson gate. We were glad we'd chosen that one rather than the camp at Okakuejo inside the park, which was crowded and dusty. The staff were infinitely friendlier too - the Okakuejo staff were rude in a way that would have taken Basil Fawlty aback, but we only had to deal with them long enough to get our permit and we were off into the vast expanse that is Etosha.

A few people looked at us in our micro-car from the lofty heights of their 4x4s and sniggered, but it turned out we were just fine. Better than fine actually.

Despite really good rains in the past year the area is flatter than an elephant's insole and the vegetation largely very low. So we had an excellent view of the animals around us.

Etosha does not disappoint. It is dry and unearthly, harsh and bright and sparse, but the game is phenomenal. Herds of springbok dot the landscape wherever you look, interspersed with elegant oryx and the trotting, grass-high black-backed jackals.

Kori bustards strut in the open and flocks of queleas wheel through the immense sky.

A twitching ear next to a culvert on the side of the road turned out to be an enormous lioness, watching the herds streaming in towards a waterhole but staying hidden - possibly due to the bachelor herd of elephant bulls drinking there. The elephants are like ghosts, chalk white from the salty, limey mud they bathe in, relaxed and unhurried.

We took an icy drink from our cooler box and settled in at the water hole with camera and binoculars to watch in luxury, eye-level with the springboks.

For a couple of days we zigzagged the white-seared landscape, storm clouds building around us but never amounting to anything more than dramatic light.

Etosha, which actually means 'great white place', is a marvel. It calms you and excites you. The smell of earth and elephant dung spreads across the plains.

Despite the few busloads of tourists which pull up next to you at waterholes, it feels wild and infinite. It is simply stunning and we packed our tent with regret at the end. But we had other plans.

Vowing to return for much longer next time, we shoehorned our stuff back into the Picanto and headed west to see how it would do on the Skeleton Coast.





Source: