Hoanib Skeleton Coast Camp
I’m writing this at 4:00 a.m. surrounded by the stillness of the Namibian night. I don’t want to sleep. I want to stay awake, savouring this extraordinary place.
My adventure began two days ago, when Jenni and I landed at an airstrip near the Skeleton Coast Hoanib River Camp, nestled deep in Kaokoveld, Namibia. As we made our way to camp, I was reminded of my first visit to the area more than 20 years ago, on an overland trip led by guide Tas van Solms on assignment for Getaway magazine. On that trip, we camped in dry riverbeds and followed the footprints of elephants through the day. Now, in a private concession, off-limits to self-drivers, we were in an exclusive tented camp, sharing the space with expert guides and researchers.
Although the camp had changed, the scenery remained the same. Dramatic mountains loomed above the Hoanib River—an otherworldly landscape that was both majestic and barren — a stage where life and death teetered on the delicate balance of food and water. The Hoanib receives less than 100 mm of rain annually. But for a few days each year, torrential floodwaters collected in distant mountains rush through it, heading for the Atlantic Ocean and the Skeleton Coast. Though it hadn’t rained in years, the riverbed still harboured a thread of green, dotted with camel thorn trees. I could see the cracked mud, remnants of floodwaters, and the telltale tracks of brown hyenas, giraffes, springboks, oryx, and lions—all relying on a few precious springs for survival.
Our guide, Ben Petrus, learned the art of tracking from his father. He approached a breeding herd of elephants, always careful to respect their space, until the sun set. It was a contrast to my first visit, when elephants were extremely hard to find and ever wary of human presence. That night, instead of cooking over an open fire and sleeping on a bed roll, we were treated to delicious cuisine, and fell asleep beneath soft linen, lulled by the hum of a cooling fan.
Next morning, we set off for a full day tour to the Skeleton Coast. Within minutes, Ben spotted lion tracks in the sand, and began following them as they crisscrossed the river. “He’s tracking a group of giraffes,” he explained. “When they spot him, they panic, skidding on their long legs—easy prey for him.”
An hour later, we came face to face with a majestic male lion with a golden mane resting on a sandbank, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. His collar, marked with the reference “OPIE,” told a deeper story. Scientists monitor Olpi’s his movements, hoping he won’t stray toward unfenced villages, where the temptation of easy prey, like goats and cattle, could cost him his life. Thankfully, he is a giraffe-killing expert.
Eventually, we continued our journey, driving west up the river, through a lush floodplain, over dunes, until some 80 kilometers later, we reached a miraculous oasis fringed with reeds and beyond that the cold waters of the Atlantic ocean. Here, we found more lion tracks—Opie’s females—and one of them was heavily pregnant.
A few kilometers away at Mowe Bay, close to a research station and a beach teeming with tens of thousands of seals, we were greeted by a chef and a table laden with freshly prepared paella and delicious wine. After lunch, an aircraft was waiting to take us back to the lodge.
Though I loved the lunch, the thought of a quick ten-minute flight back felt like a theft. Instead, I swapped my seat on the plane with the chef and joined Ben in the Land Cruiser for the return journey. We drove back over the gravel plains, soft sandy dunes, and undulating escarpment, retracing our path into the riverbed. And there, still waiting, was Opie—patient, ever watchful, ready for whatever would come his way.
What a day it had been—my incredible second, short chapter of a remarkable area. As so it was, that I sat awake on my final morning, reflecting on my experiences and compelled to write these words. Perhaps I’ll entice others to join this adventure. I, for one, don’t want to wait another 25 years to visit this extraordinary place!
These pictures were taken over two days at Hoanib Skeleton Coast by David Rogers – who journeyed there in March 2025 with Jenni Saunders. It was an extremely special experience. If any photographers would like to visit Skeleton Coast and have a private guide – I know one photographer whose bags will pack themselves.
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