You smell Cape Cross before you see it. A cold wind off the Atlantic carries a thick, rank, fishy odour across the coastal desert of Namibia, and then the beach appears, packed with brown bodies, and the noise arrives: a continual barking, bleating and groaning from tens of thousands of Cape fur seals. The colony is one of the largest on the African coast, and in the pupping season, around November and December, the rocks and shingle are crowded with newborns. Black-backed jackals patrol the edges, hoping for a weak pup, and the Benguela current, cold and rich in fish, is the reason for the whole noisy business.
The cape has a place in European history too. In 1486 the Portuguese navigator Diogo Cao landed here on his voyage south and planted a stone cross, one of the padroes that the Portuguese used to claim the coast. The original was taken to Germany in the nineteenth century, and a replica now stands near the site, while a second copy, put up by the Germans, stands beside it. The place has a lonely feel, with fog banks drifting in from the sea and the grey surf breaking on the rocks.
The road to the cape is part of the pleasure. From Swakopmund, the C34 runs north along the coast, a salt road built on a hard crust of gypsum and salt that is smooth, pale and often damp with fog, so the surface can be slippery and the visibility short. The desert on one side, the ocean on the other, and little else except the rusting hulks of old wrecks and the fishermen's cabins of Henties Bay. The wind is strong, and cold, even in summer, so bring layers. The road is mostly straight, but a headwind and the monotony can tire you, and trucks carrying salt and mining equipment use it.
Fuel needs planning. Swakopmund, about a hundred and twenty kilometres south, and Henties Bay, about sixty kilometres, are the last proper stations, and there is nothing at the reserve itself except a small gate and a shop. A small entry fee is charged at the entrance. Fill the tank at Henties Bay, take water and a warm layer, and arrive by mid-morning, because the afternoon wind can be fierce. The fog usually lifts by late morning, and the light on the seals can be wonderful, though the smell, I warn you, stays in your jacket for days.