Just under 100km far from Luanda — the capital of oily wealth — we rise gradually higher and leave the few remaining sparse patches of rainforest behind. The consistency of both air and land is dry and flat. Rolling gently behind us are the vast expanses of sun-starched grassland, baobabs of silver-grey hue and short-fringed palms with chubby wild hairstyles of those on a bad day. Amongst these and small bobble, stubbly bushes, the soil glints ash black in memory of raging bushfires — winter months are taking hold in Southern parts of Africa.
To our right, the huge expanse of the glittering Atlantic matches its never-ending stretches to those of the land it connects with. We come into, almost, touching distance of the tranquil palm-lined shore and keep pushing forward into the fishy aromas of the town of Barra Do Dande, on the lookout for a campsite. All you can eat fish lines the streets, hordes of dried and drying catches of all sizes, laid out in sparkling decay on a medley of tarpaulins and racks. Striking cliffs complete the curvature of the bay and shelter the influx of the town’s river into the sea, it’s freshwater stream running colourful fishing boats out to join with its salty cousin and flow under the bridge where a few people are, to be, bathing and washing away the day’s dirt.
Tomorrow → Day 68: 14th.June.2016 — LUANDAN FLAMINGOS
*Check out Jørn and Lukas’ 3 videos created from the first couple of months of videography from the trip down below, before further footage was either lost or stolen:
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Shani
