37 Frames📍Onduli Ridge, Damaraland
Memory, Presence & the Long Walk
Some days are about magic. Others are about meaning. And then there are days like this … where the two hold hands and walk beside you.
Big, slow, deliberate steps.
Elephant steps.
Waking Up With the Land
We woke up to light sliding between boulders. The kind of light that just exists in gold and quiet.
Here at Onduli Ridge, even mornings feel architectural. The wind writes poetry. The rocks tell time. The coffee hits just right.
But today? Today isn’t about stillness.
It’s about tracking giants.
In Search of Desert Elephants
We head out with our super guide, Shaanika. His knowledge older than the maps, his smile even wider than the landscape.
“Don’t look for elephants,” he tells us. “Look for their stories.” So we look. For footprints. For broken branches. For the way the grass bends.
And eventually … for silence. Because that’s how they arrive.
And then, they do.
The Moment They Appear
It’s almost too much. They’re beautiful. Graceful. Dust-covered and deliberate.
Not just animals … but ancestors.
The desert elephants of Namibia are genetically adapted to this place. Slightly smaller to their savannah dwelling cousins. Calmer. Wiser. They move like time. And being near them feels like being close to something sacred.
We held our breath. Sometimes the most awe-inspiring thing is watching something take its time.
No performance. No panic. Just presence.
Sidebar: Desert Elephants in Damaraland
- Unique Adaptations: Namibia’s desert elephants survive with less water, walking up to 70km a day
- What They Eat: Acacia pods, mopane leaves, and hope
- How to Find Them: Go with a guide. Please. They know how to look after them and know when they’re distressed.
- Best Viewing Spots: Around Twyfelfontein, Palmwag, and of course … Onduli Ridge
- Fun Fact: Desert elephants don’t forget… but they also don’t rush
Legacy in Motion
We’ve always been drawn to elephants. Maybe because they live in herds … but grieve alone. Because they mourn, remember, forgive, and protect.
Maybe because they’re gentle giants who still demand space. (Kind of like us after a wedding season.)
But mostly, maybe it’s because they remind us to move through the world like we matter. And that legacy doesn’t come from shouting. It comes from walking … intentionally, compassionately … and knowing that someone, somewhere, is following your path.
Echoes of the Past at the Damara Living Museum
Later we made a stop at The Living Museum of the Damara … a place designed to preserve and showcase the traditions, skills, and daily life of one of Namibia’s oldest cultures. Was it a little touristy? Sure. But it was also moving and meaningful in its own way.
We were welcomed with singing, then walked through a village setup where traditional healing, fire-making, leatherwork, and dancing were demonstrated. There was an honesty to the storytelling – and even if the setup was staged, the pride in cultural heritage was undeniable.
It was a chance to experience Damara traditions in a format accessible to visitors, and it sparked conversations in jeep afterward about what it means to keep culture alive, especially in a world that often forgets.
When the Road Gives You People
There’s something magical about the people you meet when you’re not looking. Strangers who become friends over campfire stories, drone batteries, or shared granola bars at sunrise.
On this trip, we’ve crossed paths with souls from all corners of the globe… different ages, different lives, all drawn to this strange and beautiful land by something bigger than ourselves. Maybe it’s coincidence. Maybe it’s the universe playing matchmaker. But there’s a quiet kind of alignment that happens when you’re open to it.
We’ve had conversations that felt like constellations… dotted moments of connection that somehow form something vast and meaningful. Some of these new friends will stay in our orbit long after the journey ends. Others were fleeting, but no less important.
It’s a reminder that travel isn’t just about where you go. It’s about who the road places beside you and who you become because of them.
We’re not naming names… some of you prefer to stay behind the scenes. But you know who you are. Thanks for the laughs, the stories, the gin, and the memories.
A Guide Named Shaanika, and a Tower of Giraffes
We’ve met a few guides over the years, but every so often someone truly unforgettable walks into the story. Shaanika was one of those rare souls. Quietly brilliant. Thoughtful and softly spoken. With humor that snuck up on you and wisdom that lingered long after the drives were done.
He seemed to know every track, every whisper of the land, every nuance of this place he clearly adored. Our trip was deeply enriched because of him.
And we’ll never forget today’s golden afternoon – when he gently taught us that a group of giraffes is called a tower, just as one appeared like a mirage around us.
Tacos, Tonics & Tall Friends
There are golden hours, and then there are golden hours. So, this afternoon at Onduli Ridge, as the sun began its slow Namibian descent, we found ourselves in the middle of a moment we’ll never forget.
A tower of giraffes (still the best collective noun ever) gathered around us like some kind of elegant, slow-motion dream. Shaanika, casually pulled out gin and tonics from his bag like it was the most natural thing in the world. Followed by… wait for it… chicken tacos. Yes, tacos. In the wild. Among giraffes.
It was surreal and joyful and just the right amount of absurd. We sipped and watched, wrapped in the hush of the wild, surrounded by towering grace. It was everything: stillness and laughter, giraffe silhouettes in a setting sun, flavors and friendships blending into something unforgettable. One of the most extraordinary afternoons of our lives.
Thank you, Shaanika. For the sunset. For the tower. For the magic.
** Just a gentle heads-up to everyone following along: prepare yourselves for a tower of giraffe content coming your way. And yes, that’s the actual collective noun – poetic perfection, really. We were surrounded. Like a very graceful, very tall flash mob. Legs for days. Lashes for centuries.
We’ve got the giraffe portraits, the giraffe candids, the giraffe sunset silhouettes, the giraffe photobombs… It was the giraffe shoot of a lifetime. So, if you’re not ready for giraffe spam, now’s your chance to scroll fast. But really… why would you want to?
Tonight: Stars, Stories & Second Helpings
Back at Onduli, we ate game under the stars again. (And a dessert to die for.) Tired in our bones, full in our hearts.
We watched the fire crackle and joked about starting an elephant sanctuary slash gin bar. (“Trunk & Tonic.” Still workshopping the tagline. Something about happy trunks and conservation with a twist of lime.) But beneath the laughter was something deeper.
There’s something about animals… wild, unbothered, instinct-driven… that makes us feel more human. Not less. Maybe it’s their honesty. Their lack of pretense. The way they move through the world with presence.
A giraffe doesn’t rush. A rhino doesn’t overthink. A lion doesn’t apologize for taking up space. They remind us of a kind of clarity we’ve almost forgotten. A way of being where everything has a rhythm, a role, a place in the story.
Maybe that’s why sitting quietly in their presence feels sacred. Why their gaze can stop you in your tracks. They carry memory in muscle, history in instinct. And somehow, they still let us in… just for a moment. Long enough to remember who we are when the Wi-Fi is gone and the world is quiet.
So we sat there, under Namibian stars, plates empty, eyes wide. Grateful. Changed. Not quite ready to go home… but more ready to face the world again.
What Travel Taught Us Today
- Legacy doesn’t have to be loud
- Time is better walked than rushed
- The desert holds more than dust: it holds memory
- And there’s no such thing as just an animal when you’re paying attention
Closing Reflection: Walking Forward
We’ll leave here tomorrow. But part of us will stay … in the footprints we followed, in the hush we held, in the stories we now carry.
Travel is more than seeing the world.
It’s letting the world see you … opening yourself to people, to experiences… softened, awed, changed.
And if elephants can find grace in the driest place on Earth… maybe we can, too.
37 Frames
