Introduction: A Journey Beyond the Map
Somewhere just beyond the edges of Windhoek lies a wilderness that doesn’t care about your plans, your watch, or your WiFi signal. The Khomas Hochland Hiking Trail, a six-day trek through Namibia’s rugged mountains, dry riverbeds, and thorny bushveld, has a way of stripping you down to your essentials — and then showing you what you’re really made of.
We came for the views. We stayed because of everything we didn’t expect: the hilariously unreliable trail markers, the biting cold mornings that froze our fingers stiff, the charging bulls that sent our hearts racing, and the quiet pride that bloomed in each of us as we walked back into camp on the final day.
This isn’t just a hike — it’s a collection of stories, strung together on dusty bootlaces and under the sharp stars of the Namibian night.
Cast Of Crazies
We were 12 in total — a mix of family, old friends, and new faces brought together by a shared sense of adventure and a slightly masochistic enthusiasm for long walks in wild places.
We quickly learned each other’s quirks: who needed coffee before they could form a sentence (me!), who snored like a chainsaw (a hotly contested title every morning), who always carried the emergency snacks (you know who you are!), and who would volunteer to light the donkey boiler for hot water.
There was Popi, with her bright laugh and brand-new passport; Curly Su, fiercely OCD but equally quick to help others; Chucky, who claimed to know every shortcut (and usually didn’t); Di Jong, keeping all his roomie’s secrets!
And Mar Might, somewhere in the middle — equal parts excited and exhilarated, armed with layers of long sleeves and enthusiasm.
We knew documenting this trail with photos of landscapes would be the easy part. But the real story would be written in our muddy boots and cold-chapped smiles.
Arrival at Düsternbrook: Sunset Giraffes, River Crossings & Warm Hospitality
After two days of driving, arriving at Düsternbrook Safari Guest Farm was a relief.
Happily leaving the paved roads behind and venturing onto the farm’s dirt track, we finally felt like we were in the bush.
If you’re driving a sedan, a quick heads-up: the last few kilometers to the farm include three river crossings. The sandy tracks and shallow water add to the sense of adventure but also make for a tricky drive — especially if you’re not in a high-clearance vehicle.
Our bus even got stuck in the soft sand outside our accommodation, giving the guys a decent workout as they pushed and dug it free.
At least it helped them work up a proper appetite for dinner.
As we crested the final hill and the sun began its fiery descent behind the Khomas Hochland mountains, we were greeted by a magical sight: a group of curious giraffes, their long necks silhouetted against the glowing sky.
They paused mid-graze, lifting their heads to watch us with serene, inquisitive eyes. It felt like a good omen — a quiet welcome from the wilderness, hinting at the adventures to come.
Day 1: Duesternbrook Farm to Otijiseva Camp (14.4km)
Day 1 began at a decidedly leisurely pace. Herding hikers, it turns out, is very much like herding cats — and we were a big group crammed into a small space, each of us juggling our own morning routines, repacking bags, and checking that nothing (and no one) was left behind.
We chose the slack pack option, so Hans and his support team would collect our luggage and ferry it ahead to camp while we carried just the essentials.
Still, by the time we reached reception, the usual last-minute flurry ensued — final toilet stops, a few work emails sent off over patchy signal, and of course, the requisite group photo shoot to commemorate the start of a new hike.
I don’t recommend a late start. Mornings in the Namibian highlands are chilly, but by 10:00 AM the sun is already fierce, and the heat can be punishing. Nevertheless, we set out in high spirits, blissfully unaware of what awaited us in the thorny wilderness ahead.
The landscape began with flat, thorny savanna before taking us along a river, a Chuckle Pond and past a Sexy Fig Tree.
We stopped for lunch under an acacia tree that poked us more than it shaded us.
The markers — little painted stones — confused us at times, at the 4km mark on day 1 it took us away from the river (we would follow these markings back to base camp on day 6 since these were day 6 markings) sending us on a short detour before Hans himself appeared in his jeep, smiling as he got us back on course.
Just want to take a moment to suggest to the trail owners to mark the trails different colours for each day, perhaps matching the colours on the map.
Day 1 & Day 6 markers are along the same river and especially on Day 3, but we will come to that bit later.
We reached Otjiseva Camp just before sunset — a rustic kraal surrounded by sand and stars. Our mattresses hadn’t arrived yet, but we made a fire, lit the donkey boiler for hot showers, and savored pumpkin stew under the clearest sky I’ve ever seen.
Day 2: Otjiseva Camp to Onduno Camp (9km)
After a freezing night, the morning started with everyone debating who snored the loudest. Even though we woke early, it still took hours to get everyone through the single toilet (whose door had a mind of its own, trapping several of us).
We set off eventually, breaking into three natural pace groups.
From the outset, the trail plunged into a series of stunning kloofs (ravines) — narrow, rocky gorges where the air was cooler, the shadows deeper, and the footing tricky. Progress was slow but rewarding. Every turn revealed another natural wonder: wind-sculpted rocks, dramatic cliffs, and the occasional resilient shrub clinging to impossible crevices.
Once we emerged from the kloofs, we faced a series of rolling hills that felt endless under the hot sun.
Two in our group took a wrong turn and accidentally skipped part of the jeep track — we’d soon learn that trail markers were more suggestions than gospel. And the map is always right!
Even with a leisurely lunch break, we reached Onduno Camp by 3 PM. Tucked beside a quiet river, this camp felt like an oasis after the long, dusty day. The site was spacious, giving everyone room to spread out and set up tents without jostling for space.
There was ample time for everyone to do laundry, take long, blissfully hot showers, and even catch up on some much-needed rest before dinner.
The river added a touch of serenity to the evening, while crickets chirped to the chatter of the group as we cooked and watched the full moon rise.
Namibia has spectacular sunsets.
Day 3: Onduno Camp to Godeis Camp (23 km) or 30 km if you get lost
On Day 3 of the hike we finally managed an early start. We hit the trail at 7:30 AM, just as the first rays of sunlight painted the mountains gold. The cold morning air bit at our cheeks, but we knew we had a long, demanding day ahead, with several peaks to tackle in the first six kilometers.
We were down to ten hikers today, as Popi, nursing an injury, wisely decided to sit this one out and rest at camp. Given what lay ahead, it turned out to be a smart decision.
By 9:00 AM we’d already summited the peaks — a satisfying start that left everyone feeling strong and accomplished. From there, the trail plunged into a long, winding kloof that we followed for almost three hours toward our lunch stop. The kloof was alive with wildlife; we spotted warthogs darting across the path and graceful buck grazing among the rocks.
The terrain was challenging but breathtaking — rugged cliffs on either side, thorny acacias providing occasional shade, and that vast Namibian silence broken only by the crunch of our boots and the call of birds overhead.
After lunch, Chucky and I decided to push ahead of the group at around 3:30 PM. We had about nine kilometers to cover to reach the next camp, and we felt confident we’d make it in good time.
But as we discovered, confidence can be deceiving.
About two kilometers from camp, we encountered a confusing network of day trails, a dam, and some rather intimidating bull cows. We veered onto one of the trails, which led us through another kloof — beautiful, but suspiciously long. After walking about five extra kilometers, we finally realized: we were no longer on Day 3’s route.
A glance at the map confirmed our suspicion — we had wandered onto Day 4’s trail. The irony? We’d been faithfully following the markers, which in this section of the hike were more misleading than helpful. Normally, when you’re lost, you backtrack to the last marker… but we were on the markers, which made things a bit trickier.
Thankfully, we stayed calm, aided by the blessing of a full moon rising above the hills, lighting our way as we doubled back through the kloof. Eventually, in the dark, we stumbled into camp — tired, dusty, and very relieved.
Despite the long day — over 30 kilometers hiked in total — the warm welcome at Camp 3 melted away our fatigue. Our friends were waiting with shining headlamps and plates of piping hot bolognaise.
Camp 3 quickly became everyone’s favorite. The accommodation was unique — simple containers to sleep in, with soft bedding and enough space to stretch out. But the real highlight was the cave shower, carved right into the rock. Standing under hot water in that sheltered cave, feeling the cool evening breeze on your face, was nothing short of magical.
Thanks to everyone who let us jump the Shower Queue – yes, that’s a thing on a hike – and to Sugarman and Popi for keeping the hot water hotting all night!
We sat under a dazzling sky, swapping stories of our unintended detour and laughing at ourselves. Sadly, we learned that Curly Su had sprained her ankle badly, ending her hike — a sobering reminder of how demanding this trail can be.
Still, as we drifted off to sleep in our containers, with moonlight spilling across the hills and the hush of the desert all around, we couldn’t help but agree — this was the most memorable camp of them all.
Day 4: Godeis Camp to Onduno Camp (17 km)
Day 4 of our hike began with a bit of unfinished business — climbing up a ladder into a little cave and back down the kloof that Chucky and I had missed the day before during our moonlit misadventure: the aptly named Lovebird Gorge.
It was worth the detour. The gorge was quiet and cool in the morning light, its sandy walls glowing gold and pink, and the climb gave us a gentle jolt to shake off the morning chill.
The first five kilometers of the day were easy-going — flat and sandy, letting our tired legs find a rhythm. The air was crisp, and the silence of the desert stretched around us, broken only by the crunch of boots on sand and occasional laughter from the group.
Chucky and I had deja vu!
Soon we were back in familiar territory: another winding kloof. Every turn brought a new vista, a new set of boulders to scramble over, and more of those thorny acacias that had become such a defining feature of the hike.
One thing that really stood out on Day 4 was the trail’s personality. Whoever designed this route clearly had a sense of humour — and a lot of heart.
The quirky little route markers and signs scattered along the way were a delight, each one more unexpected than the last.
From tongue-in-cheek warnings to cheerful encouragements, they lightened the mood and made the long hours on the trail feel a little shorter.
It was these small touches — the thoughtful design, the moments of surprise, the way the path wound through hidden corners of the landscape — that made us feel like we weren’t just walking a trail, but experiencing a story someone had lovingly crafted.
Day 4 brought us full circle, back to Onduno Camp, where we’d stayed two nights earlier.
As we approached the final stretch, the familiar sight of grazing cows greeted us — and, almost as if they’d been sent as guides, they kindly led us back along the last two kilometers to camp.
When we arrived, tired but happy, we found Curly Su already waiting for us, prepping dinner. Seeing her again — after her injury — and being back in the welcoming embrace of Onduno felt like coming home.
The evening was cold, but the company was warm. Thursday night brought with it a sense of quiet gratitude, a stack of firewood, and even time for a short thikr around the fire — soft murmurs of prayer and remembrance blending with the crackle of flames and the crisp night air.
The moon rose once more over the hills, and as we huddled closer to the fire, it was hard not to feel that we were exactly where we were meant to be — halfway through this incredible journey, surrounded by friends, under the vast Namibian sky.
Day 5: Onduno Camp to Monte Christo Camp (18km)
Day 5 began as so many mornings on this trail did: bundled in layers against the freezing pre-dawn chill, waiting for bones and spirits to warm up enough to get moving.
The start was eventful right away as we fanned out into small, organic groups, each within earshot of the next, trying to locate the faint trail markings hidden among the overgrowth. With the river glinting to our right, at least we knew one thing for sure — don’t fall in!
It quickly became clear that the trail markings had deteriorated significantly since the earlier days.
After climbing up to the plateau to Gomkouvlakte, Chucky, Marmite and I, the lead group, managed to miss an important marker that led off the jeep track. We had to double back a full kilometer, trudging over the rolling hills to find the marker.
To prevent anyone else from missing it, we built a cairn — a neat little pile of stones — so the rest wouldn’t wander off into the wilderness.
We broke early for lunch at a scenic detour called Leopards Cave View, taking our time to rest and hydrate before tackling the next leg.
Meanwhile, Curly Su — still nursing her sprained ankle — was back at camp having her own adventure with Benedict, visiting the farmhouse and learning about the local hunting economy.
I must admit, hearing that giraffes are hunted in the area unsettled me deeply. Even though I understand that sustainable hunting can help support rural livelihoods and conservation efforts, the thought of killing such a majestic creature for sport was hard to accept.
Memorable moments along the trail: Gat Skeur Deur Die Draad
Back on the trail, spirits remained high as we approached the most exciting feature of the day: a series of wooden ladders descending alongside a dry waterfall.
There is an alternate route around it for anyone afraid of heights, but the waterfall descent, though dramatic-looking, was safe and well worth the effort. Carefully making our way down the ladders, we felt a rush of adventure — yet another unforgettable moment on this remarkable trail.
We reached Monte Christo Camp by about 4:30 PM, tired but cheerful, eager to settle in and explore our home for the night.
When we arrived, Curly Su greeted us with laughter, recounting how she’d been “held hostage” by a herd of stubborn cattle earlier in the day — a hilarious callback to the charging bulls we’d encountered back on Day 3. Those unpredictable cows became a running joke (and low-level anxiety) for the rest of the trip.
We were disappointed to learn we wouldn’t be sleeping in the famous tree house after all.
The camp facilities, once again, were excellent — cosy, clean, and clearly maintained with care. We couldn’t help but feel grateful for the hospitality.
As the stars emerged and the night wrapped around us, we drifted into sleep knowing our adventure was slowly drawing to a close — but the memories would last forever.
Day 6: Monte Christo Camp to Duesternbrook Farm ( 16 km)
Day 6 of our hike dawned like all final days do: quiet, a little wistful, and heavy with that bittersweet mix of accomplishment and reluctance.
Was this really the last day?
At least, for once, we didn’t have to wrestle with frozen tent poles or numb fingers before we set off. The morning air was already warm, and the path home lay waiting.
When Curly Su finally shooed us out of camp with a grin and a wave, we left reluctantly, crossing back over the river one last time.
The well-marked trail wound away toward Dusternbrook farm, and we fell into an easy rhythm, each of us perhaps a little quieter than usual — already savouring memories and holding onto the feeling of being out there in the wild.
Much of Day 6 traced the river’s edge, its cool shimmer a constant companion as we walked. Herds of cattle grazed lazily on its banks, watching us pass with mild curiosity.
Not far off, we glimpsed groups of blue wildebeest, their silhouettes dark against the bright sand and thorn scrub — a final gift from this incredible landscape.
By mid-morning, the heat was brutal. The thorny bushes that we’d grown accustomed to over the past week seemed sharper and more determined than ever, snagging clothes and scratching arms as if to remind us they’d miss us when we were gone.
At one river crossing I managed to soak my socks completely, but I didn’t care. The cool water was refreshing, and my spirits too high to mind.
I deliberately slowed my pace now and then, wanting to breathe it all in, to gather my thoughts and commit as much of this trail as possible to memory: the dusty scent of the bushes, the crunch of boots on stone, the distant call of a bird circling above.
At one point, I stopped to pry a particularly stubborn thorn from my boot. Looking up, I was surprised — and amused — to see a troop of baboons skipping across the rocks to the other side of the river, nimble and unconcerned by our presence.
I couldn’t resist trying to mimic their bark, but of course, they ignored me completely — dignified as ever.
Toward the end we walked almost in silence. The last 2 kms felt endless.
When the finish finally came into view and Curly Su greeted us with a hug and smile — and reality sank in: we’d done it.
Not long after, the rest of the group trickled in, tired but smiling, each person wearing the unmistakable glow of accomplishment.
What an adventure it had been — six days of peaks and kloofs, full moons and cave showers, lost trails and found friends, all stitched together by laughter, grit, and the quiet majesty of Namibia.
As we stood there, still dusty, still sweaty, still smiling, one thing was certain: these moments would stay with us long after the blisters healed.
We had done it.
Reflections On The Trail
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What I Learned: A trail is more than footsteps; it’s a way of seeing. The mountains teach you patience, presence, and that discomfort can coexist with joy.
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Favorite Moment: Spotting a family of giraffes on arrival and the waterfall.
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Hardest Moment: The allergic reaction I had to some of the thorns.
Quote to Remember: “Some people walk into your life. Some walk 105 km beside you.”
Final Thoughts
If you’re considering the Khomas Hochland Trail—do it.
But don’t just hike it for fitness. Hike it to meet yourself. Hike it to meet a version of Namibia few ever will.
And hike it to understand that magic happens when you strip life to its most elemental: footsteps, food, fire, stars.
My Ultimate Guide is up for anyone who would like to book this hike. Tell Fritz I sent you.
Eternal Thanks
To everyone who took a chance on a little-known hike and came for the adventure! Cos thats how we roll!
For sharing their photos and videos:
Abdullah
Ellen
Gary
Rashaad
Siraj
Shakirah
Wasielah
Coming Soon: The road trip!
Wow. Such amazing writing. It conjures up a feeling of “being there”, that eventually morphs into “can I please come along, I’m missing out.” You should really publish these adventures. I propose this because I’ve read some of your previous adventure accounts.
thank you! Im going to post an Ultimate Guide To this hike cos its so phenomenal!
Awesome writing Bibi, as you are fondly called. Lovely views & photos. But experiencing the trek first hand, the photos allow you to reminisce don’t do justice of the real makoi.
Memories still lingering, wanna go back
We ARE going back!
I Loved reading your Amazing post! Thank you for sharing it.
You’re welcome! Thank you for reading. I appreciate you.