Walvis Bay greets us with brilliant sunshine – a welcome surprise, as this isn’t the norm here. About 150 days a year, the coast is blanketed in thick fog. We’ll explain why a bit later. For now, it’s a little chilly, but jeans and a hoodie do the trick. The air feels crisp and refreshing.
Our stay at Desert Dreams B&B started off well with a cozy room and now a delicious breakfast. We’ll need the energy today – we’ve got a full schedule ahead. At 8:15 a.m., we’re being picked up for a tour to explore the local birdlife and seal colonies. But first, a quick selfie outside our guesthouse.
Before the tour begins, we’ve got a few minutes to share something about Walvis Bay. The town is primarily industrial, home to Namibia’s largest port and supporting industries like fish processing. What makes it special is its natural deep-water harbor, protected from the open ocean by a long sandbank. This allows even large ships to anchor close to shore in calm waters.
Back in the 15th century, Portuguese explorers were drawn here by the abundance of fish and whales, naming the bay “Walfischbucht” (Whale Bay). They planted a stone cross about 6 miles (10 km) south of today’s town to stake their claim. But it was the British who recognized the harbor’s strategic value and, in 1795, established a settlement here, laying the foundation for modern-day Walvis Bay.
Ownership shifted over centuries – from the British to South Africa, and finally, in 1994, four years after Namibia’s independence, Walvis Bay officially became part of Namibia.
Today, tourism here is modest. The town mainly serves as a launch point to the wildlife-rich sandbank or to Sandwich Harbour further south, another haven for nature lovers.
Our driver arrives. We hop into his rugged Toyota – it’s just the three of us, so this feels like a private tour. We’re excited!
Just a few blocks from our guesthouse, we pass a small park and church. Soon, we head towards the sea – first not the open ocean, but the lagoon, formed by the protective sandbank next to the deep-water port.
And there they are: our first flamingos and majestic pelicans! Inland, you can spot the houses lining the coast. Beyond the few irrigated green spaces near the lagoon, the desert begins – the Namib, a rare coastal desert. The same conditions that cause the frequent fog also shape this desert, but more on that shortly.
To give a clearer picture of the lagoon, sandbank, and port setup, here’s a snapshot from Google Maps. To the north is the harbor bay, the sandbank lies to the west, and in between, to the south, is the lagoon we’re now exploring.
As we drive toward the sandbank, we pass an interesting sight: a massive salt factory. It produces over one million tons of sea salt annually, making it the largest of its kind in Africa. From afar, we see gleaming white hills of harvested salt. Most of it is exported for industrial use; only a small portion ends up as table salt.
The process is fascinating: seawater (with 3.5% salt) is pumped into evaporation ponds. As the sun does its work, salt begins to crystallize. This process is repeated until, after about 11 months, the crust reaches 12 to 20 inches (30–50 cm) thick. The remaining brine, now highly concentrated, is drained into surrounding canals. The salt content becomes so high that crystals form spontaneously. Bacteria thriving in this salty soup tint the water pink – a beautiful, surreal sight. We get to hold a chunk of fresh sea salt in our hands.
As we approach the sandbank, our driver lets air out of the tires – time for off-road adventure!
We cruise along the endless beach, hugging the lagoon’s edge. Flamingos appear again – some already back from their breeding grounds in Etosha and Botswana, but most are still young, under four years old.
We learn that flamingos are born gray and only turn pink thanks to their diet. Surprisingly, it’s not shrimp that do the trick, but algae rich in beta-carotene – the shrimp eat the algae, the flamingos eat the shrimp. Nature’s food chain at work.
Suddenly, we spot a lone seal hunting in the shallows. Our guide guesses it’s a male. The animal seems unbothered by us – almost posing for photos!
And then, the pelicans. They nest nearby on Bird Island, a small offshore island in the Atlantic. But for feeding, they love the calm waters of the lagoon.
Besides the birds and that solitary seal, there’s more to discover. The sand around us, whether here or in Sossusvlei, all comes from South Africa. Rain washes it from the mountains into rivers like the Orange River, which carries it to the Atlantic. The cold Benguela Current, flowing northward from the Antarctic, deposits the sand along Namibia’s coast, where wind sculpts it into dunes and beaches.
This current not only prevents rain by cooling the air and reducing cloud formation, giving birth to the Namib Desert – it also causes the persistent fog typical for this coastline.
We stop to admire nine distinct sand types, all in different colors. A phone zoom reveals an incredible spectrum – a natural rainbow of earth tones!
We also stumble upon fossilized freshwater mussel shells, remnants from when South America and Africa were joined in Gondwana. Back then, this area was a freshwater lake. When the continents split, the sea invaded, and today you can still find these ancient traces all across Namibia.
Onward we go. We spot jackals – lone survivors living off carrion, especially the many seals that live and die here.
Finally, we reach the tip of the sandbank, where dozens of seals lie on the beach. Adults, pups, and some frolicking in the surf. It’s loud. And yes, it smells pretty intense, but it’s manageable. We keep our distance so as not to disturb them.
Our guide asks if the smell bothers us. We say no – and out comes a folding table and a lunch spread of delicious cold finger food, complete with a chilled bottle of wine. A real treat, though meat-heavy, as is common in Namibia. Vegetarians and vegans might have a harder time here.
Michael tests the Atlantic – and confirms: the water is freezing! From our picnic spot, we see ships waiting offshore to enter the port.
On the return trip, we stop by the old lighthouse from 1915, once at the tip of the sandbank. Now, thanks to the Benguela Current depositing more sand each year (about 65–80 feet or 20–25 meters), it’s a bit inland.
From here, we get a good look at the ocean side of the landspit – a wild contrast to the calm lagoon.
Back at Desert Dreams B&B around midday, we take a short break before setting out again – this time for Swakopmund!
Swakopmund lies at the mouth of the Swakop River (usually dry) and was founded by Germans in the late 19th century. The German Empire needed its own port, since the British controlled Walvis Bay. After some failed landings, Swakopmund was finally established, and several historic buildings remain.
We drive the 19 miles (30 km) north and park in a guarded lot. The friendly attendant points out we’ve left the lights on – good catch!
We downloaded a 4-kilometer (2.5-mile) walking tour via Komoot and head out.
First, we follow the beach promenade to the lighthouse, passing a craft market.
Then, we arrive at the seafront cafés. Ice cream and coffee in the sunshine – perfect. A cheeky little bird begs for crumbs, and a nearby sign confirms what we already felt: the water is a chilly 57°F (14°C)!
The walk takes us into the city, past several historical buildings: the courthouse, the old post office, the Baroque-style Lutheran church, and more. We also notice some quirky street signs.
At last, we reach the Woermann House (1894) – the city’s oldest building, now home to a library and public offices.
Nearby, we discover a German-language bookstore that also stocks English titles – tucked in a small pedestrian zone.
Interestingly, there are still thousands of descendants of German settlers in Namibia. There’s even a German-language newspaper. Out on the streets and in shops, we see a wonderfully mixed crowd – people of all skin tones. Everyone seems to speak English, and a few still understand some German.
As we head back to the car, we take in the views from the pier and the oceanfront.
Back at the parking lot, we tip the attendant generously – his earlier reminder saved us a dead battery. He’s delighted and gives us a warm wave goodbye.
To wrap up the day, a fun discovery: while grocery shopping for tomorrow, we came across what looked like a very tasty chocolate cake, marked with a hilariously ironic warning label. We took the warning seriously – and didn’t buy the cake.
