After breakfast, we say our goodbyes to Ghaub and hit the road again, heading for our next destination: the Waterberg. After a short stretch of dusty gravel road, we join a paved main road and soon reconnect with the B1 national highway heading south—the same route we took from Tsumeb. Today’s leg will cover roughly 270 kilometers (about 168 miles).
The drive along the well-maintained highway moves along smoothly. Traffic is light by German standards, but compared to the desert roads—where we encountered maybe two to four vehicles per hour—it feels relatively busy. A few trucks are heading in both directions, adding the occasional overtaking maneuver to keep things interesting. On this mostly straight and open road, overtaking is no challenge.
We begin by passing through the Otavi Mountains, surrounded by rolling green hills dotted with trees and shrubs. We bypass the next town, Otavi, via a ring road.
A little further on, we encounter a police checkpoint. We sneak a quick photo—thankfully unnoticed by the officer. The line of vehicles in front of us moves quickly, and for only the second time since renting our car, we pull out our international driver’s license. The officer seems satisfied and waves us on with a friendly “Drive safely.”
The landscape begins to flatten out. We pass countless fenced farms lining both sides of the road, with trees and shrubs inside the enclosures. Between the road and the fences lies a broad strip of tall yellow grass, seemingly ripe for harvest. We spot tractors and farming equipment everywhere, cutting and bundling the grass into large round and rectangular bales—likely destined as animal feed.
From Otavi, it’s a straight 140 km (about 87 miles) to the next town, Otjiwarongo. We break up the long stretch with a toilet stop at a roadside rest area and take a look at the perfectly straight railway line running parallel to the road. The sleepers are stamped with the year 2014—apparently the line was modernized then.
In Otjiwarongo, we stop for fuel. Four service station staff immediately begin refueling and washing our windows. We thank them with a generous tip, which they plan to share amongst themselves. Otjiwarongo is a relatively large town with modern buildings along the road. It looks pleasant, but we don’t stop—we still have ground to cover.
Eventually, we do end up back on gravel, once we spot the sign for our destination: Waterberg Plateau Park. We turn off and pass a few gates where our license plate is recorded, before arriving at the parking area near the reception. There, we’re handed a map of the area.
The Waterberg Plateau is an enormous flat-topped mountain, about 48 km (30 miles) long and 15 km (9.3 miles) wide, rising around 200 meters (656 feet) above the surrounding plains. It’s composed of sandstone and was formed millions of years ago when the surrounding terrain was gradually eroded away, leaving behind this elevated “island” of rock.
The Waterberg was the site of a tragic chapter in Namibian history—a battle in 1904 between the German colonial forces and the Herero people, who were resisting German rule. This conflict is now recognized as a genocide.
In 1972, the Waterberg Plateau Park was established, covering 405 square kilometers (about 156 square miles). It is home to many rare animals, including rhinos, various species of less commonly seen antelope, and predators like leopards and cheetahs. There are also a few individuals of the extremely rare Cape vulture. Access to the plateau itself is restricted and only allowed with a ranger—guided game drives and walking safaris are offered, much like in Etosha.
From a distance, we can already see the dramatic cliff edge of the plateau.
We had initially considered joining a game drive here, but after two days in Etosha, we decide to explore the mountain on foot instead. There are several hiking trails, and we choose the Mountain View Trail. We drive up a bit further to a parking area located in the Waterberg Resort, which consists of scattered bungalows.
After a quick snack from the cooler box, we set off. The path is easy to walk, winding through the forest. Michael frequently has to duck under branches—Annette, less so. We make good progress, enjoy the surroundings, and our non-alcoholic trail beer doesn’t last long.
Just before reaching the highest point, the path seems to end. A white arrow points uphill, but the trail leads into a pile of rock debris, with boulder-sized stones that don’t look passable. No alternative routes are visible, and even the Komoot app offers no clues. We fill the uncertain moment with some photography. The sheer rock wall ahead of us is striking, painted in shades of red, black, yellow, white, and even green. It looks like a masterpiece—but it’s nature’s work alone.
In the rock crevices, we spot rock hyraxes, a first for us on this trip. They look like oversized guinea pigs, darting about on the steep cliff face. Though they resemble rodents, their closest relatives are actually elephants. Nature is full of surprises.
As we consider turning back, we hear voices approaching and soon meet two German hikers: one young man and another who might be about ten years younger than us. We discuss the situation, and the younger man leaps over the rocks like a mountain goat, darting from one spot to another until he triumphantly announces: “There’s a path!” His companion follows, and so do we.
Eventually, we discover the issue—a rockslide had blocked the original trail.
Once back on the right path, we descend quickly. On the road passing through the resort’s bungalows, a few warthogs make an appearance.
Back at reception, we spot even more of them.
At the exit gate, it’s the usual procedure—staff check that we’ve paid the entrance fee. The Waterberg area has plenty of lodges and camps, including some inside the national park itself, right along the edge of the plateau. We’ve chosen to stay outside the park at Waterberg Guest Farm, a spacious property with its own game population.
Our bungalow is perched on a hill, a few hundred meters from the central area, with plenty of space and no close neighbors—just the way we like it. From up here, we enjoy a fantastic view of the Waterberg, accompanied by coffee, tea, and pastries.
Dinner at the restaurant is a multi-course affair, featuring game meat, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. One thing we continue to notice—no background music. And we love it. We reflect on this and realize: we haven’t heard music in restaurants or supermarkets at all—something quite unlike Germany. The only exceptions? A bit of subtle live music at Etosha Safari Camp and one instance of recorded music in Uis, where we had already suspected the owner to be European.
Also worth mentioning: great Wi-Fi—a blessing for our blog.
At night, the temperature drops noticeably once again. As with most places here, there’s no heating—so we’re back to our tried-and-true layered sleepwear system.
One last observation: ever since the cold set in, we’ve hardly seen any crickets, which had accompanied us in large numbers throughout our Namibian journey.