4x4 Expeditions in Southern Africa

Hi there,

Here’s a quick summary of six trips across Southern Africa, covering South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, and more. I traveled for a total of 23 months, over 100,000 km, and crossed 9 countries from South Africa to Tanzania. To do this, I bought an old Land Cruiser—a 1989 BJ 75 with a long chassis and a 3.4L turbo engine—which I converted into a bush camper set up for self-sufficiency in Africa: dual fuel tanks (235 L total) plus 2 x 20-liter jerry cans of diesel, 2 spare tires, a compressor, a toolbox with repair gear, a 50-liter water tank plus 2 x 30-liter and 2 x 10-liter jerry cans, a roof tent, multiple storage boxes, a sturdy roof rack, and even a paramotor. I also packed a first-aid kit and shipped the camper to South Africa by freight. My son joined me for part of the journey.

Key countries and highlights: South Africa in every direction, including its wildlife parks; in Namibia, the classics like Etosha, Fish River, Sossusvlei, Kaudum, but especially Damaraland and Kaokoland; in Botswana, a full loop of the Okavango, crossing the Makgadikgadi Pan, Moremi Park, the Linyanti River; and a tour of Zimbabwe with its national parks. During the last trip in 2020, due to COVID, we found refuge on a 250 km² Namibian farm with its own wildlife reserve. While crossing Damaraland and Kaokoland, we were completely self-sufficient, with supplies for over a month and 130 L of water.

In South Africa and Namibia, one issue that surprised us was the fences stretching for millions of kilometers along the tracks. Namibia is one and a half times the size of France but has a population of only about 2.5 million, mostly concentrated in a dozen small towns of 10,000 to 50,000 people—except for the capital, Windhoek (296,000). Paradoxically, compared to France, the space for freedom is extremely limited. Everything is private and requires payment. Even the Namib Desert is fenced... and you need a permit just to pick up a rock! For someone used to wild camping, it can get frustrating. Sometimes we ignored the rules, but the best solution is to ask a farmer (a real one, like a sheep or cattle rancher—not the ones with 3-meter electrified fences, which are lodges or private reserves) if you can camp on their land.

To truly enjoy freedom in Namibia, you need to venture into the northwest, along the Skeleton Coast, in Damaraland and Kaokoland. However, it’s essential to know your vehicle inside out, be a good mechanic, bring spare parts, and plan for potential breakdowns. Take care of your ride because a major issue out there can be a matter of survival. My motto: "Don’t break down, don’t break down, don’t break down..." Safari pros only venture into this region with two 4x4s. In Messum Crater, we met a couple waiting for rescue (thanks to a satellite device from their rental company) after their driveshaft broke. Keep in mind that in these areas, you’ll cover about 80 km in 8 hours.

Here are some of the issues we faced: a broken rear suspension leaf, several broken bolts on the front leaf springs, the spare tire mount breaking multiple times (replaced on the spot), a cracked water radiator in 1998 causing overheating and a seized valve stem in its guide, plus a bent rocker arm (field repair, valve adjustment, damaged head gasket, daily radiator refills, and a scratched cylinder—engine fully rebuilt upon return). Five roof rack mounts broke and were repaired at a technical high school in South Africa. The battery mount also broke (fixed with a steel plate found on the trail). The fuel filter clogged several times (changed or cleaned on the spot). A huge impact on the windshield from a piece of coal falling from a power plant supply truck (temporary repair with Araldite). The brake master cylinder failed in Marienfluss (repaired, seals replaced in Tsumeb). Multiple flat tires from acacia thorns. The rear door latch broke (homemade aluminum rod repair in Franschhoek). The voltmeter and ammeter failed (repaired on the spot). During the freight trip, despite locking the doors and having a partition between the front and back, someone managed to get in through the small side window, forced open the locks on two accessible storage boxes, and stole my tools (replaced later). A ball joint on the paramotor frame came loose mid-flight, damaging the wing and propeller (propeller shipped from France, homemade repair).

Health issues on the way to Tanzania: a painful sciatica and many sleepless nights (cortisone injection in Dodoma).

Kaokoland, Namibia—the northwest region: https://youtu.be/DzGepFsrnZs

Damaraland: https://youtu.be/DITQj8NvLZ4

Botswana: https://youtu.be/TEvDG0S62hg

Kaudom and Mohembo Parks: https://youtu.be/wq_Yf7jNLhw

Hi Gabriel, I share your opinion: the Kaokoland is extraordinary. Especially for its natural beauty and its challenges. And you captured it well in this first video. The aerial shots are breathtaking (even if the giraffes and oryx don’t seem to agree: “what’s that blue bird want with us!?” ). Okay, fair enough on the mechanics (prep and hiccups) 😉 but do you have any anecdotes or memorable encounters to share? P.S. Could you clarify this point: on the map at the start of the video, you leave Marienfluss heading south, but based on the footage, it looks like you took Van Zyl's Pass from west to east?

thanks, I really enjoyed your amazing videos

Hey fellow traveler, Apologies for the late reply! You can't sum up 23 months of travel in just a few lines. I’ve got plenty of stories to tell. About Van Zyl's Pass—yeah, I see you know this dangerous track that can only be taken on the way down. We were running low on fuel trying to reach Opuwo, and even with our 250 liters of diesel when we entered Kaokoland, we decided to take the shortcut by going *up* Van Zyl’s Pass. The hydraulic brakes were shot; only the parking brake worked. If you watch the video closely when I measure the track’s width, you can see the Toyota down below on the flat section. Given the mechanical issues, the height of my camper (2.10 m to the roof rack) with over 200 kg on top, and a super high center of gravity, I decided to call it quits—it was just too risky. Back in 1998, we took 3 hours to descend those 3 km from the flat spot overlooking the valley where we’d camped. I even paraglided that evening and hiked back up. It was way too dangerous, so I turned around while I still could—after that, it would’ve been impossible. And with only the handbrake? Not a chance.

Here are a few anecdotes: Elephants of Kaokoland – The deadly charge: Check out the video *Namibia – Hoanib River + Southern Africa Landscapes* https://youtu.be/MGG-SUBpTkY. One morning, we woke up at our campsite near AMSPORT in the Hoanib, right on the edge of the Skeleton Coast. A big bull elephant was foraging 100 m away in the dry riverbed. We decided to circle around and film from the ridge above the riverbed. When we reached the top, the big male locked eyes with us, took a few steps back, then charged, trumpeting as he scrambled up the 3 m sandbank that was supposed to protect us. These old solitary males are super aggressive and dangerous.

Unlikely encounter: Near the Huarisib River, about 60 km north of the Hoanib—the only one with permanent water—we camped in a nearby canyon, completely deserted. That night, we woke up to the sound of heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel. In the morning, we spotted elephant tracks just 1 m from the camper. Where did they come from? Probably down from the upper part of the canyon near the infamous Purros-Ourupembe track!

The arrival of water: The Hoanib River’s ephemeral bed had been dry for months—clear skies, scorching sun—when suddenly, we heard water rushing upstream. We watched it spread across the riverbed and surge between the two rocks at Amsport Pass. A rare, magical, and totally unexpected moment. The rain from storms 200 km east in the mountains had finally fed the river, but only for a day or two before it dried up again.

Curious giraffes: Evening was falling, time to stop and find a spot. We drove into the Kumib Riverbed for a few hundred meters and came across a family of giraffes with their calves. About 30 m away, they watched curiously as we set up the rooftop tent without moving. "Goodnight, ladies." The next morning, we opened the tent to find our new friends hadn’t budged an inch all night—they were still watching us!

Zimbabwe: Villagers surround us, worried: Every evening, finding a campsite was a challenge. At dusk, we pulled up near a village and set up the rooftop tent. Night fell like a guillotine. I was reading in the front of the Toyota when suddenly, a crowd of villagers armed with clubs and other "welcome tools" appeared. I rolled down the window, and a man asked in English what we were doing there. I explained we were just camping for the night. He told us we were on a cemetery. I apologized profusely, saying we hadn’t noticed any graves but would leave. Seeing our good faith, he let us stay the night.

Botswana-Namibia border (Caprivi Strip): Military intervention: We’d reached northeastern Botswana, along the Linyanti Swamp. We spent the night by the marsh, and the next morning, I decided to go paramotoring. While Steve was in the air, a guy in a Land Rover showed up. He told me we were on private land and that my son had to land immediately—military had spotted us and wanted to know who we were. Plus, a plane that had just landed at the lodge’s airstrip had filed a complaint. This place was strategic; if we hadn’t landed, they would’ve shot us like rabbits! I told Steve to land, and we packed up the wing. Meanwhile, the lodge guide explained the border conflict between Botswana and Namibia over the Caprivi Strip. He worked for the lodge about 1 km away, where a night costs $1000. He directed us to the transit track.

Extremely rare mechanical incident: Driving on the Windhoek-Swakopmund track, I realized I had no brakes. Emergency stop—we’d lost a bolt securing the front right caliper, and the brake hose had been severed at the caliper. We made a temporary fix by clamping the hose. We continued on three brakes (it pulled hard to the left when braking) until Swakopmund, where we made a copper-tube hose.

Again... Brake hose rupture in the Okavango bush: We were driving on a sandy track through the mopane forest when the brake pedal suddenly went soft. We stopped and saw that the rear right brake hose, mounted behind the axle for protection, had been cut at the drum plate—probably from driving over a branch on the sandy track. We clamped the hose fast because we could hear a group of elephants trumpeting nearby in the mopane forest. The next day, we found a vehicle repair center for the lodges and grabbed a hose from a Land Cruiser wreck to fix our spare wheel mount, which had cracked. The following day, we helped a lodge supply truck with a dead battery using a cable salvaged from a truck wreck.

2021, the cursed year—post-COVID, October 7th, solo return to Namibia: I went back to Autabib Farm to pick up the Land Cruiser—what a string of bad luck. After all the checks and formalities, I missed my Windhoek connection by 15 minutes. Gys, the farmer who picked me up, told me the Toyota wouldn’t start. I spent a week getting the vehicle back in shape (all four batteries died). While testing it on the reserve track, the left side mirror detached from its housing (found it stuck in the sand). Namibian customs seriously considered hitting me with a massive fine—I only know the discount amount (around 500 €), which means the actual bill must’ve been over 1500 €... for leaving the vehicle in the country too long (17 months, thanks to COVID, closed borders, canceled flights, etc.). Health-wise, it’s not great—I’ve had cramps in my right foot and leg since returning. I sleep badly, work 10 hours a day on the Toyota, and barely eat. I went to Windhoek to buy parts and pay the road tax. At a police checkpoint, a young officer offered to guide me. On the way back, she proposed marriage! Just what I needed—"maudit tabernacle," I’m collecting black cats! When I plugged the 12V/19V transformer into one of the dashboard outlets, white smoke poured out of the box! I was sure it was fried. Took it apart, checked the components and the cigarette lighter voltage, put it back together—miracle, it worked!

November 3rd: Spare wheel mount breaks (again): Even though it was reinforced at the farm, it gave out. I was driving along the eastern edge of the Namib Desert. The corrugated track wasn’t the Toyota’s cup of tea with its leaf springs. I stopped in the shade of a lone tree near Spes Bona Farm—the only one for 100 km—to eat my meager meal. When I opened the back door, I noticed the spare wheel mount (37 kg) had broken again. "Maudit câlisse!" Just as I was about to make a temporary fix, the farmer’s son showed up and offered to weld it back on. Finally, a lucky break.

November 5th: Crossing the Noordover border: I was tense as a piano wire—I hadn’t paid the fine and didn’t know what to expect. The customs officers were like big kids, glued to their phones, sometimes struggling to fill out the carnet de passage. Back in South Africa—phew! Headed to Franschhoek to see my friend Theunis for a few repairs: removing a broken key piece from the ignition, fixing a snapped rear fuel tank support cable.

Remake of the movie *Duel*: November 17th, I left Franschhoek via the northern pass. On the winding descent, a semi-truck caught up and tailgated me. I sped up, thinking I’d lose him, but he stuck to me like glue. When we hit the flat stretch by the lake, I was doing 110 km/h. I saw him closing in in the mirror, so I accelerated to 140 on the straight. At the intersection, I turned right, and he went left. What a maniac—I think he was empty. One of those reckless drivers responsible for so many fatal accidents. On my way to Tanzania, I saw overloaded minibuses with dead passengers lying on the roadside, trucks speeding through villages without slowing, honking a kilometer before plowing through crowds! Vehicle inspections aren’t like in Europe—sometimes you can’t pass because the truck spews a monstrous cloud of black smoke that blocks your view.

One last story on the way to Port Elizabeth... Assault at the Stilbaai seaside resort: I arrived at this little coastal town late in the afternoon and found a great spot, hidden from view with amazing sanitary facilities—perfect for the night. As I was preparing dinner, a vehicle pulled up with its headlights on, blocking my exit. I got out, thinking it was the police, but no—it was a drunk couple who wanted to extort money from me. No reasoning with them, no way to leave. Things were about to take a bad turn. I had a machete and pepper spray. Annoyed, I got out of the camper and walked toward their vehicle, which backed up and let me pass. I jumped into the Toyota and sped to the well-lit village square to spend the night.

After that, it was a nightmare trying to find a ro-ro ship to Zeebrugge and sync it with my flight. "Not easy at all." In South Africa, port fees after 3 days cost 100 € per day, while in Zeebrugge, it’s just over 1 €. Overlanders are basically the cash cow for freight forwarders.

Namibia – Hoanib River + Southern Africa Landscapes https://youtu.be/MGG-SUBpTkY

Good evening, I’m really glad you enjoyed these videos. I’m sharing a few more with you, which saves me from writing a long message. Best regards, Gabriel

South Africa from Blyde River Canyon to Lesotho https://youtu.be/0jkFseDyyEY

Autabib fly 2020 https://youtu.be/VMWBjlX4sMQ

Namibia – Hoanib River + Southern African landscapes https://youtu.be/MGG-SUBpTkY