Past the main dune run, the tarmac ends and the desert takes over, which is the point where this route becomes more of a pilgrimage than a ride. The surface under your wheels shifts from asphalt to sand within a few hundred metres, and the standard advice is that anything without four-wheel drive stops at the car park and walks.
The word vlei is Afrikaans for a shallow pan or marsh, and Sossusvlei, which is usually explained as 'the place of no return', refers to the way water flows in and goes nowhere. It evaporates, or sinks. When a good rainy season sends the Tsauchab down in flood, the pans fill with a thin sheet of water and the dunes mirror themselves in it, and then the water is gone within weeks, leaving a pale clay floor cracked into plates.
The dunes here are called star dunes because they have several arms that radiate from a high central crest, each one shaped by winds from different directions. Some of the tallest in the Namib rise more than three hundred metres above the pan, and the colour changes through the day from soft apricot at dawn to a hard burnt red at noon and a violet shade at dusk. The only constant is silence, broken by wind and the odd gecko or darkling beetle leaving tracks.
This is a spot where the right attitude is patience. Take your time, drink water often, and treat any desire to ride on the sand with suspicion, because a bike that goes down in deep sand in this heat is a long and exhausting job to lift. Park on firm ground, walk the final stretch and carry your helmet and gloves; the shuttle vehicles that run the sand section exist for good reason.
Dawn is the best light by a wide margin, and by ten the sun overhead flattens the colour and sends the temperature past comfortable. Plan the day backward from the gate time.