This 18-day Namibia itinerary guides you through ancient deserts, vast national parks and dramatic coastlines, offering an immersive journey across one of southern Africa's most extraordinary and visually stunning destinations — perfect for adventurous and curious travellers alike.
Namibia: Khowarib and Palmwag
🏜️ The Desert Elephants of Northern Namibia
The desert elephants of northern Namibia are, without question, one of the most extraordinary wildlife stories on the planet. These remarkable animals have adapted, over many generations, to survive in one of the harshest environments imaginable — the scorched, rock-strewn riverbeds and sun-blasted gravel plains of the Kunene and northern Erongo regions. They are not a separate species; genetically they are identical to any other African savanna elephant (Loxodonta africana), but what they have done, behaviorally and physiologically, is quite astonishing. They roam along what are called ephemeral rivers — the Hoanib, Hoarusib, Uniab, Huab, and Ugab — which for most of the year contain no surface water at all, just bone-dry sand and gravel. Life out here, for every creature that calls this place home, is always a very fine balance indeed. Lions, desert-adapted giraffes, springbok, oryx, and the occasional leopard all manage to carve out an existence in these seemingly inhospitable landscapes, and we were about to find out just how they did it.
🛖 Arriving at Khowarib — A Gorge, A Tent, and an Outdoor Loo
The road to Khowarib was, as is so often the case in this part of the world, a dusty one. But compared to some of the bone-rattling, teeth-loosening tracks we had already navigated during our eighteen days in Namibia, this particular stretch was really quite manageable. After a couple of hours of driving through increasingly dramatic scenery, we finally arrived at the Khowarib Lodge, which sits in the most spectacular position imaginable — right in the heart of the Khowarib Gorge, on the banks of the Hoanib River in north-west Namibia.
The lodge has 14 luxury permanent canvas chalets, which are built on stilts that project out over the rocky riverbed, affording completely unobstructed views of the towering red cliffs opposite. The Khowarib Gorge itself was formed over millions of years as the Hoanib River — one of Namibia’s crucial ephemeral rivers — carved its way through the ancient rock of the Kunene region. The word “Hoanib” derives from the Nama language, meaning “bitter water,” which tells you something about the character of this landscape. After checking in, we were escorted to our tent, which was, frankly, enormous. As had been the case at virtually every lodge we had stayed at throughout our trip, the towels on the bed had been folded into the shapes of elephants. Very cute!
At one end of the tent, a small timber balcony jutted out over the gorge, furnished with two chairs perfectly positioned to catch the colour show on the red cliffs at both sunrise and sunset. Below, we could hear and see the babbling waters of the Hoanib making their way around the boulders. At the other end of the tent, however, was where things got really interesting: the bathroom. It was, to put it plainly, huge — and it was entirely open to the elements. The space was roughly semi-circular, perhaps thirty feet in diameter, surrounded by a six-foot-high stone wall. I could see over it perfectly well; I suspect most people couldn’t. Inside this al fresco ablution chamber was a shower, a toilet, and, rather magnificently, a large tree. I was not entirely sure what one was supposed to do if nature called during a thunderstorm. Get wet, I supposed.
Just before sunset we sat out on our balcony and watched the cliffs opposite change colour through every shade of amber, burnt orange, and deep crimson. It was a genuinely lovely thing to witness. Then we headed off to the bar for our sundowner and dinner, as one does.
🐘 Into the Desert — In Search of the Hoanib Elephants
Today we had given over the entire day to venturing deep into the further reaches of the Hoanib River, out into the desert proper, in search of the famous desert elephants of Namibia. The Hoanib River itself stretches for roughly 350 kilometres from the highlands near Kamanjab in the south all the way to the Skeleton Coast, and it is along these lower reaches that the desert elephants have made their home. Our guide for the day was a man called Weareep — a wonderfully knowledgeable chap — accompanied by a driver, and together they took very good care of us.
We set out from the lodge heading south towards the small town of Sesfontein — or Fort Sesfontein, as it was once known. Sesfontein has an interesting history: it was established by German colonial authorities in 1896 as a military post to control the local population and monitor the movements of people and cattle in the region. The fort was built in 1902 and garrisoned by the Schutztruppe, the German colonial protection force. After German South West Africa was occupied by South African forces during the First World War in 1915, the garrison was abandoned, and the fort fell into disrepair. In more recent decades, it has been partially restored and converted into a small hotel, which is rather wonderful for a building that was once a colonial military outpost in the back of beyond.
Shortly after leaving Sesfontein, Weareep pulled over and we all piled out for what he diplomatically called a “comfort break,” which involved finding a suitable bush and exercising one’s imagination. As he cheerfully observed, we were all European or African, so this sort of thing caused absolutely no consternation whatsoever. It was also an opportunity to let the air pressure out of the tyres to a much lower PSI, which is the standard technique for driving over sandy ground — the wider, flatter tyre footprint gives you far better traction on loose sand.
The first section of our journey took us through a breathtaking desert valley, very sparsely vegetated with scrubby bushes, low-bowed Ana trees (Faidherbia albida), and the occasional Camel Thorn (Vachellia erioloba). These two tree species are the lifeblood of the elephants out here — they provide both shade and nutrition, and their root systems go extraordinarily deep in search of subterranean water. The mountains surrounding the valley were already bathed in early morning light, and the effect was, frankly, stunning. The further we travelled, the fewer signs there were of any human presence whatsoever. The only people we came across were teenage boys tending their family’s goats and sheep out in the scrub. Goodness only knows what there was to feed them out here.
🦒 A Wobbly Surprise — The Desert Giraffes
Suddenly, and without any fanfare, Weareep spotted a small group of giraffes out in the desert scrub. We quickly changed direction and headed over for a closer look. The giraffes that live in this part of Namibia — the Angolan giraffe (Giraffa giraffa angolensis) — are considered a vulnerable subspecies, and the desert-dwelling population here is one of only a handful of giraffe populations in the world that have successfully adapted to arid conditions. Unlike their savanna cousins, these animals have learned to go without water for extended periods, obtaining most of their moisture from the leaves of the Camel Thorn and other browse species. They were quite extraordinary to look at, standing against a backdrop of yellow sand, green scrub, and the great brown mountains behind — and the morning light was absolutely perfect for both viewing and photographing them.
Among the group was a mother with a very young calf, which was still a little wobbly on its feet — something that made it absolutely irresistible to watch. Weareep reckoned the calf was only a few days old. Given that giraffe calves are born weighing around 70 kilograms and standing nearly two metres tall, being “a bit wobbly” seems entirely forgivable. After a good while watching them, we reluctantly headed off to find the other game-drive vehicles, which we hadn’t seen for some time.
☕ Coffee, Cake, and a Campsite That Covid Had on Ice
Before heading into the deeper canyon section along the Hoanib riverbed, we stopped at a small campsite that was run by the local community concession. The site was deserted — it had not yet re-opened following the Covid-19 pandemic, which had hit Namibia’s tourism industry particularly hard between 2020 and 2022, essentially shutting down much of the country’s conservation-based income for the best part of two years. This was actually rather a good thing for us, as it meant we could make use of the camp’s toilets — a luxury not to be underestimated this far from anywhere. Coffee and cakes materialised from somewhere, we stretched our legs, and we took a moment to simply stand there and soak in the extraordinary silence and beauty of the desert and its rocky outcrops. Sometimes the simple moments are the best ones.
🐘 The Famous Desert Elephants — Stars of the Hoanib
After our short break, we hopped back into the game-drive vehicles and set off down the Hoanib River, which at this time of year was considerably more “stream” than “river,” flowing in a thin silver thread between great sandy banks and boulders. We were now officially on elephant watch. The going had become appreciably tougher — we were navigating rocks, deep patches of sand, and the sort of track that requires a confident driver and preferably a well-maintained 4×4. It was, however, enormous fun.
About twenty minutes in, Weareep slowed and pointed. There, beside a small waterhole, was a single bull elephant — enormous, grey, and utterly magnificent. He had taken over the waterhole entirely, in the way that large bull elephants tend to do, and was thoroughly enjoying spraying himself with water. Parked nearby was an official-looking truck, bristling with seriously impressive filming equipment. This crew, it turned out, were working for the Namibian government, documenting the desert elephants on film. And it made complete sense: these animals have become something of international stars. Their remarkable story has attracted filmmakers from around the world, and a number of major wildlife documentaries — including productions for the BBC Natural History Unit and National Geographic — have featured these very elephants over the years, bringing their story to audiences of millions.
We gave the old boy some peace and headed further upstream. Our luck, as it turned out, was very much in. After several more kilometres of bumpy, bone-shaking track, we came across a small herd — males, females, and calves — feeding along the riverbed. Now, it is worth understanding exactly what we mean by “desert elephants.” This is not a distinct subspecies or genus; they are genetically African savanna elephants (Loxodonta africana) in every way. What distinguishes them is their behavioural and physical adaptation to living in conditions that would be utterly lethal for most large mammals. They have developed longer legs relative to their body size, and they are noticeably smaller overall than the average African elephant — a consequence of the caloric and hydric constraints of desert life. They can travel up to 70 kilometres in a single day in search of water and food, which is roughly double the daily range of bush elephants. Their sense of smell is legendary even by elephant standards: they can detect water underground at depths of several metres, and will dig with their feet and tusks to reach it.
The desert elephant population that ranges across the Hoanib, Hoarusib, Uniab, Huab, and Ugab river systems covers a vast territory of approximately 115,154 square kilometres — encompassing sandy desert, rocky mountain ranges, and arid gravel plains in the southern Kunene and northern Erongo regions (an area once known as Damaraland, which was a homeland established under South Africa’s apartheid-era “homeland” policy during the 1960s and abolished at Namibian independence in 1990). The rainfall here is between 50 and 150mm per year, which makes it one of the driest inhabited regions on the African continent.
The vegetation in the canyon — principally Ana trees and Camel Thorn trees — grows along the river courses, and the elephants spend the majority of their time sheltering and feeding in these ribbons of relative greenery that thread their way through the bare rock and sand. Because the vegetation is so sparse, spotting and following the elephants was, mercifully, quite straightforward. They are also fairly accustomed to people, which meant we could approach at a respectful but genuinely close distance.
For nearly an hour, we simply hung out with them. It was one of those experiences where you find yourself completely forgetting to look through the camera because you are just too busy watching. They were headed downriver — which happened to be in the direction of our eventual route back to the lodge — so we were able to spend more time with them than we might otherwise have managed. It was, without any shadow of doubt, one of the finest wildlife experiences of our entire trip.
🥪 The Vegan Sandwich Situation — A Tragedy in Several Acts
It was now lunchtime, and the guides found a shady spot beneath the canopy of a large Ana tree beside the river, which was lovely. The problem, as became apparent with some speed, was that the people back at base who had been tasked with preparing our lunch had not received the message that we were vegans. We were therefore presented with sandwiches that very much contained meat. We duly extracted what we could and ate what remained, which was almost certainly not actually vegan either, but needs must. We were not too upset — well, just a little — as we climbed back into the game-drive vehicles and set off back towards Sesfontein.
🦒 The Great Giraffe Sand Rescue
On our outward journey, we had spotted the giraffes, but the other vehicles in our group had not been so lucky. So, it was agreed that on the return leg we would attempt to find some giraffes for them. A couple were spotted some distance away across the sandy desert floor, and the convoy immediately abandoned the main track and set off in pursuit. When we arrived at the approximate spot where they had been seen, however, the giraffes had rather inconveniently made themselves scarce. For animals that can be nearly six metres tall, they have a quite surprising ability to blend in when they choose not to be found. They were eventually spotted again across a dried stream bed, and our driver, showing admirable confidence and not inconsiderable skill, launched the vehicle across it — through the deep sand on the far side — and made it safely up onto solid ground the other side.
The second vehicle attempted the same crossing a little further up the stream bed. It did not go as well. Low and behold, it got comprehensively stuck in the sand. There was much revving of engines, much spinning of wheels, and the whole enterprise served mainly to dig the vehicle in progressively deeper. It was not looking remotely good. Weareep and our driver — who were clearly a great deal more experienced in these conditions than the crew of the stricken vehicle — wore the particular expression of people who are simultaneously amused and already resigned to having to go and effect a rescue. There was a lot of digging. There were things placed under wheels. After roughly fifteen minutes of considerable effort, the vehicle was freed and we were all moving again. The giraffes, one suspects, were observing all of this from a safe distance with quiet amusement.
We made our way back to the entry point of the valley, where we re-inflated the tyres before heading back towards the lodge.
🏘️ The Himba Village — An Uncomfortable Detour
Our plan had been to drive directly back to Khowarib Lodge, but we found ourselves committed to accompanying a group of Belgian tourists who had signed up for a visit to a local Himba village. The Himba — or Ovahimba — are one of the most recognisable indigenous peoples in southern Africa, and their culture and history are genuinely fascinating, though the manner in which tourists are sometimes brought to encounter it is a good deal more complicated.
The Himba are a semi-nomadic, pastoralist people who have inhabited the Kunene Region — historically known as Kaokoland — for centuries, having migrated from Angola as part of broader Bantu movements into southern Africa beginning around the 14th century. Their ancestors were part of the Herero people, from whom they culturally diverged over time, though they speak a closely related Bantu language, Otji-Himba. Today, the Himba number an estimated 50,000 people, living across northern Namibia and into southern Angola. They are amongst the few peoples in the world who have, by and large, maintained their traditional way of life — or at least significant elements of it — into the 21st century, despite a history of extraordinary trauma that includes the near-total destruction of their cattle herds and a catastrophic population collapse during the Rinderpest epidemic of the 1890s, followed by German colonial violence during the 1900s, and a devastating drought in the 1980s.
The Himba are perhaps most widely known internationally for the practice of covering their skin and hair with otjize paste — a mixture of animal fat (typically butterfat) and ochre pigment ground from iron-rich stone. The result is a deep, distinctive reddish-brown colour that covers the entire body and hair. The function of otjize is multiple: it cleanses the skin in the absence of water (the Kunene region receives very little rainfall, and water for washing is a precious resource), it protects against the fierce sun and against insect bites, and it has a powerful cultural and aesthetic dimension. Otjize represents the colour of earth and blood, both considered to be the essence of life, and it is regarded as a mark of beauty. The intricate hairstyles of Himba women — built up over years with repeated applications of otjize — are also deeply culturally significant, indicating social status, age, and marital position. The Himba women do not use water to bathe; instead they perform daily smoke baths, sitting over a small bowl of smouldering herbs and allowing the smoke to purify the skin and hair.
I was, to put it plainly, not keen on visiting the village. I had read and heard a number of uncomfortable reviews beforehand and had genuine concerns about the exploitative nature of some of these so-called “cultural village” visits. The reality of many such villages in Namibia — and indeed across southern Africa — is that the men are often absent, working in towns or on farms, and in some cases the villages themselves are not actually permanently inhabited in the traditional sense, with the residents living elsewhere and coming to the village specifically to receive tourist groups. It is a complex ethical territory, and I was not entirely comfortable with it. So I made the decision to hang back in the game-drive vehicle, at least initially, while the others went to look around.
There were around thirty Himba people in the village, all women and children. Most were outside, going about various activities. Incredibly, and somewhat appallingly given that the Covid-19 pandemic was still very much a live concern at the time of our visit in September 2022, the tourists were being encouraged to enter one of the huts where a woman was inside with a very young baby. One felt that the health considerations might have outweighed the sightseeing value on this particular occasion.
After a while, I decided I might as well have a wander around the compound myself, taking pictures of the huts, the goats, and the various domestic items lying about the place. I found myself genuinely fascinated by the otjize paste — seeing it in real life rather than in photographs was quite a different thing altogether. And, somewhat against my better instincts, I ended up taking photographs of the women and children.
The children were, as they always are absolutely everywhere in the world, tremendous fun to interact with. Karen is particularly brilliant with children and loves taking pictures of them, then showing them the results, which invariably produces delight. This occasion was no different. The children took Karen’s phone entirely into their own hands and began taking selfies at a great rate. One of the younger ones took Karen’s glasses from the top of her head, put them on — presumably to improve the artistic quality of the selfie — and proceeded to pose. We ended up with some photographs that made us chuckle for days afterwards.
Eventually, and much to our considerable relief, it was time to go. We all got back into the game-drive vehicles and headed back to Khowarib Lodge, tired, dusty, a little morally ambivalent about the last hour, but otherwise in excellent spirits.
⛺ Palmwag Under-Canvas Sleep-Out
Our transfer day was, thankfully, a short one — just 60 kilometres south back down to the small community of Palmwag — so we had a wonderfully calm and leisurely morning. Breakfast was taken at a relaxed pace, bags were packed without the usual frantic scrambling, and we checked out of Khowarib Lodge with considerable reluctance.
Palmwag itself is a tiny settlement in the Kunene Region, situated at the northern edge of what is known as the Palmwag Concession — a vast, privately managed conservation area of around 550,000 hectares, which is one of the most important conservation zones in Namibia for black rhino (Diceros bicornis bicornis), the south-western black rhino subspecies, which is listed as Critically Endangered by the IUCN. The concession was established in the 1990s under a community conservation model that has become something of a template for wildlife conservation in southern Africa, giving local communities a direct financial stake in protecting wildlife rather than seeing it as a threat or a lost resource. The Palmwag Lodge sits at the heart of this concession, and it looks rather incongruous amidst the spare, rocky landscape — quite modern and rather luxurious. We were not actually staying at the lodge itself, but it was the staging post for our next adventure: an under-canvas sleep-out in the concession.
Our trip was not due to begin for a few hours, so we killed time around the lodge and made full use of their Wi-Fi, which was — let us say — marginally better than what we had been getting at Khowarib, which had been somewhat comparable to a very optimistic carrier pigeon.
At the appointed time, we gathered in reception and met our fellow explorers for the next couple of days: Sam (short for Samantha) and Kevin, a young Dutch couple from Amsterdam who were, as it turned out, absolutely brilliant company. Our guide was a man named Rodney, who was accompanied by a driver whose name, I regret to confess, has slipped my memory completely.
The six of us set out into the concession. It would be just us, sleeping in the wilderness under an African sky full of stars. It promised to be rather good.
🦁 Lions on the Riverbank — and a Bat-Eared Fox
Before heading to our campsite, we did a drive around the concession to see what was about. The tracks were a mixture of rocky ridges, deep sandy sections, and undulating terrain that sent us climbing and descending the hills with considerable enthusiasm. The vegetation consisted largely of scrub and — most notably — large stands of Euphorbia damarana, commonly known as the Damara milk bush. This is a remarkable plant: its toxic milky latex sap can kill most animals and humans if consumed. The exceptions are the white rhinoceros and the oryx, both of which feed on it quite happily. More entertainingly, it is said that rhinos who eat this plant become what can only be described as “drunk” and behave in a thoroughly peculiar manner. Now that really would be something to see.
We spotted a bat-eared fox (Otocyon megalotis) wandering among the rocks, which was rather sweet — these little animals are named for their enormously oversized ears, which they use to locate the insects and larvae that form the bulk of their diet. Beyond that, wildlife was thin on the ground, so we headed down to the river. And there, lying low in the bushes on the riverbank, were a lioness and a large male. They were beautifully camouflaged, and we didn’t really get a clear view until they began to move along the bank. It was a short but memorable sighting.
The sun was starting to drop towards the hills, so we made our way to our campsite.
🌅 Morning Coffee, Elephants, and a Fond Farewell
As is pretty much inevitable when one sleeps under canvas in the wilderness, we were all up early. Rodney and the driver had a new campfire going by the time we emerged, which was extremely welcome, as the desert mornings at this latitude can be genuinely cold — temperatures in September can drop to single figures overnight in the Kunene Region. The fire, combined with some freshly brewed coffee, got us all going nicely. Breakfast was prepared and eaten at a relaxed pace, and Karen and I continued the thoroughly enjoyable business of getting to know Sam and Kevin better. We had accumulated quite a few travel stories between the four of us.
After breakfast, camp was broken — though mercifully not by us, as another crew would come out later to take down the tents. We set off on a couple of hours’ game drive back through the concession to the Palmwag Lodge, following a different section of track along the river to the one we had taken the previous day.
We were in luck. We came across a small herd of elephants — probably part of the same desert-adapted population that ranges across this part of the Kunene Region — feeding on the lush vegetation along the riverbank. The matriarch, a large and clearly experienced old cow, was not best pleased at our arrival and began to show signs of agitation — ears out, head high, a slight side-to-side swaying that every game guide learns to take seriously. We retreated a respectful distance, at which point she calmed down and the herd resumed feeding. After several minutes of watching, we retraced our route out of the canyon and headed back towards the Palmwag community, scanning for wildlife along the way. In such a dry and scattered environment, animals are widely dispersed over enormous areas, and we didn’t pick up anything else of note on the return leg.
By the time we reached the lodge it was mid-morning, and the opportunity of a hot shower was simply not to be wasted. Clean again for the first time in twenty-four hours, we settled in for a last coffee with Sam and Kevin, which turned, quite naturally, into an early lunch, because neither party was in any great hurry to say goodbye.
But eventually, we really did have to go.
Planning your visit to Khowarib Lodge
By Road
The camp is situated 1 Km off the main track from Palmwag to Sesfontein (D3706) to the east of the Khowarib settlement. Consequently, the lodge is easily accessible to casual tourists as well as 4×4 parties. The nearest airstrip is at Sesfontein 20 kms away. Lodge vehicles are available to collect guests arriving by air charter.
By Air
The nearest airstrip is at Sesfontein 20 kms away. Lodge vehicles are available to collect guests arriving by air charter.
Those who want to travel to Nkasa Rupara by air independently can fly to Katima Mulilo on a scheduled flight from Windhoek. The park is located about 130km / 81mi southwest of Katima Mulilo.
The Best Time to Visit Khowarib
Khowarib is a remote gorge settlement in the Kunene Region of north-western Namibia, where the Hoanib River cuts through dramatic rocky terrain. It lies along the C43 route between Sesfontein and Palmwag, making it a rewarding stop on a self-drive adventure through one of Africa’s most unspoilt wilderness areas. The climate here is arid to semi-arid, strongly shaped by altitude, proximity to the escarpment, and seasonal rainfall patterns that ripple outward from the Angolan highlands.
🌞 Dry Season — May to October (Peak Travel)
The dry season is the primary tourist window and by far the most popular time to visit Khowarib. Temperatures are at their most manageable, particularly from May through August when days are warm and pleasant (around 22–28 °C) and nights can drop sharply to near freezing at the higher elevations. September and October see heat building again, with midday temperatures regularly exceeding 35 °C and occasionally touching 40 °C in the gorge.
Wildlife visibility is excellent throughout this period because vegetation thins and animals concentrate around permanent water sources. The Hoanib riverbed, which flows through Khowarib, attracts desert-adapted elephant, giraffe, lion, and a variety of oryx and springbok. Birdwatching is productive, particularly for raptors and species associated with rocky escarpments.
Roads are at their most reliable during the dry season. The gravel tracks and sandy riverbeds that define travel in this region are passable without specialist off-road skill in May and June, though a high-clearance 4×4 vehicle remains strongly advisable at all times. By September and October, dust is pervasive and river crossings can be deeply sandy.
The gorge itself is spectacular in the dry months. Dramatic light in the early morning and late afternoon makes Khowarib a rewarding base for photography.
What to pack (Dry Season): Lightweight, breathable clothing in neutral or earth tones, a warm fleece or down jacket for cold nights (May–August), a wide-brimmed sun hat, high-SPF sunscreen, UV-protective sunglasses, lip balm, quality dust-proof bags for cameras and electronics, a headlamp with spare batteries, sufficient water (at least 4 litres per person per day), electrolyte sachets, sandals for camp, and sturdy closed-toe boots for walking. A sleeping bag rated to 0 °C is advisable for the cooler months.
🌧️ Wet Season — November to April (Off-Peak)
The wet season at Khowarib is not a monsoon in the conventional sense. Rainfall arrives erratically and is typically low in absolute terms (the region receives fewer than 150 mm annually on average), but when storms do occur they can be intense and highly localised. The Hoanib and its tributaries can flood with little warning, even when the rain has fallen many kilometres away in the catchment area.
November and December mark the transition into the wet season. Temperatures are high — often 35–42 °C — and humidity rises slightly, making conditions uncomfortable during the middle of the day. January and February are the peak rain months; though still dry by most standards, this is when flash flooding presents the greatest risk to travellers.
The landscape transforms dramatically. Dry, ochre gorge walls are briefly softened by a flush of green, and ephemeral flowers appear after significant rainfall events. Bird diversity peaks as Palaearctic migrants arrive alongside breeding residents. This is also the time when desert-adapted elephants disperse widely, making sightings less predictable.
Road conditions deteriorate considerably. Sandy riverbeds become impassable or hazardous when wet, and the C43 itself can be badly corrugated and occasionally cut off following heavy rainfall. Travel during this period requires careful planning, a well-equipped 4×4, satellite communication, and close attention to weather forecasts.
March and April are transition months; rainfall tapers off, temperatures begin to ease, and roads become more reliable again. This shoulder period can offer excellent value and solitude, with a good chance of encountering animals against a greener backdrop.
What to pack (Wet Season): Lightweight, quick-dry clothing, a lightweight waterproof jacket, insect repellent with DEET (mosquito risk is elevated), anti-malarial medication (consult your GP before travelling — the area borders malaria zones), water purification tablets or a filter, a full recovery kit for your 4×4 (traction boards, hi-lift jack, tow rope), a satellite phone or personal locator beacon, oral rehydration salts, a comprehensive first aid kit, and sun protection as intense heat remains a constant factor.
🌅 Shoulder Season — March–April and October (Best Value)
The shoulder months sit on either side of the peak dry season and offer an appealing middle ground. In March and April the last rains have usually passed or become infrequent, vegetation retains some colour, and the oppressive heat of January and February has begun to ease. By April, daytime temperatures are typically 28–34 °C and nights are comfortable. Roads are recovering but usually passable.
October falls at the other end of the spectrum. The dry season is fully established, game viewing is excellent, but temperatures are climbing sharply. It is worth arriving early in October rather than late, as late October can be brutally hot and dusty.
Both shoulder periods attract fewer visitors than the core dry season months of June through August, meaning accommodation — primarily campsites and basic lodges along the Palmwag–Sesfontein corridor — is easier to book and less expensive. The gorge and surrounding landscape feel genuinely remote during these periods.
What to pack (Shoulder Season): A combination of the dry and wet season lists is sensible. Prioritise sun protection and heat management, carry a light rain layer, include a moderate-weight fleece for April evenings, bring insect repellent, and ensure your vehicle recovery kit is complete. Carry extra water and fuel; resupply opportunities in the region are extremely limited.
🧭 Overall Best Time to Visit
For most travellers, June to August represents the optimum window for a visit to Khowarib. Temperatures are moderate, nights are cool and clear, roads are at their most reliable, and the combination of water scarcity and thinning vegetation draws wildlife into predictable locations along the riverbed. The gorge is at its most dramatic in the clean, dry air, and the risk of flash flooding is negligible. Those willing to brave the heat and accept a degree of uncertainty around road conditions will find late April and early May an appealing alternative, offering comparable game viewing with fewer fellow travellers and a landscape that still retains a faint blush of green from the preceding rains. Whatever the month, Khowarib rewards careful preparation, self-sufficiency, and a genuine appetite for one of southern Africa’s most compelling and least-visited wild places.
Visiting Namibia in January
This is mid-summer in Namibia. It tends to be hot and humid, with maximum temperatures hitting around 30°C to 35°C (86°F to 95°F); reaching up to 40°C (104°F) in the desert. There may be torrential downpours in the afternoon, but not every day. Mornings are usually clear, with the rain falling in the late afternoon.
Events & Festivals
- Birdwatching in the Caprivi Strip (November to February): The Caprivi Strip is at its best during the summer months, when there are fantastic birdwatching opportunities, with more than 450 species
- Flamingos gather (November to February): The summer months are the best time to see a flamboyance of flamingos, where they gather on lagoons in their thousands in Swakopmund.
- Birdwatching in the Caprivi Strip (November to February): The Caprivi Strip is at its best during the summer months, when there are fantastic birdwatching opportunities, with more than 450 species
- Flamingos gather (November to February): The summer months are the best time to see a flamboyance of flamingos, where they gather on lagoons in their thousands in Swakopmund.
- Birdwatching in the Caprivi Strip (November to February): The Caprivi Strip is at its best during the summer months, when there are fantastic birdwatching opportunities, with more than 450 species recorded in the area..
- Flamingos gather (November to February): The summer months are the best time to see a flamboyance of flamingos, where they gather on lagoons in their thousands in Swakopmund.
- Birdwatching in the Caprivi Strip (November to February): The Caprivi Strip is at its best during the summer months, when there are fantastic birdwatching opportunities, with more than 450 species recorded in the area..
- Flamingos gather (November to February): The summer months are the best time to see a flamboyance of flamingos, where they gather on lagoons in their thousands in Swakopmund.
Visiting Visiting Namibia in February
Very similar to January, with hot, humid days and the chance of the occasional downpour in the afternoons..
Events & Festivals
Visiting Namibia in March
Rainfall starts to decrease and temperatures lower after the rains. The nights start to get cooler again, with temperatures falling to around 15°C (59°F), although during the day this rises to around 30°C (86°F), making for pleasant conditions.
Visiting Namibia in April
The rain should have stopped by April and daytime temperatures should drop to around 25°C (77°F). Expect lows of around 13°C (55°F) at night, although it can be cooler in the desert.
Visiting Namibia in May
May is the beginning of Namibia’s winter. There is little to no rainfall during the winter and humidity is low. Wildlife will start to gather around the waterholes when rivers and other water sources dry up.
Visiting Namibia in June
The nights are getting cold and temperatures can drop to below 10°C (50°F), while in the desert areas it can get to freezing. Daytime temperatures are pleasant however, with blue skies and temperatures in the mid-20°Cs (70°Fs).
Visiting Namibia in July – August
July and August are the main winter months. Be sure to pack warm clothing because game drives in open vehicles can be chilly. The maximum temperature is around 21-25°C (70-77°F). At night it will be around 7°C (45°F), but it can drop to below freezing in the desert.
Visiting Namibia in September
September is a lovely month and considered the best time to travel to Namibia. It isn’t yet too hot, but the humidity is still low, keeping it very pleasant. It is dry and the skies are clear.
Visiting Namibia in October
During October the green vegetation is fading and the heat gradually builds up. This is a very good time for game viewing because the country is so dry. Temperatures during the day can reach 29°C (84°F) and it gets even hotter in the desert.
Visiting Namibia in November
The heat continues to rise by November and it will be very hot; although humidity is still low. On average, daytime temperatures are above 30°C (86°F). Clouds start to build in the afternoon, bringing a chance of rain.
Events & Festivals
Visiting Namibia in December
The first rains usually arrive in December, and with it the temperature drops. The landscape changes after the first rains as everything comes to life, and the animals start to disperse as more water sources become available.
Events & Festivals
Where to stay
KHOWARIB LODGE
Perched on the banks of the Hoanib River within the dramatic Khowarib Gorge, Khowarib Lodge occupies a perfect spot on the fringes of Kaokoland, making it an ideal base from which to explore the remote northwest of Namibia. Fourteen tented rooms are sheltered beneath a canopy of acacia, leadwood and jackalberry trees, elevated on platforms jutting out from the riverbank, so guests are lulled to sleep by the gurgle of the river flowing beneath them. The centrepiece of the complex is a lapa — an immense thatched structure built from local materials in traditional style — housing a reception area, lounge, bar, dining area and curio shop, all with sweeping views of the gorge and its towering cliffs. Activities are truly the lodge’s best asset: from tracking desert-adapted elephant and rhino along the dry riverbed to visiting Himba villages, the wilderness of Kaokoland delivers experiences that are genuinely hard to match anywhere else on earth.
- Location: D3706 road, 70 km north of Palmwag and 30 km south of Sesfontein, 1 km east of the Khowarib settlement, Kaokoland, Namibia Namibweb
- Telephone: +264 64 402 779 (office) / +264 81 219 3291 (lodge direct) Khowarib
- Email: reservations@khowarib.com Khowarib
- Website: www.khowarib.com
| Location: | Off the C43, Kunene Wilderness, Banks of the Hoanib River, Khowarib Gorge |
| Reservations: | +264 64 402 779 |
| Email: | reservations@khowarib.com |
| Website: | https://www.khowarib.com/ |
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