Helmeringhausen

We had had enough of Landrovers! Henry´s gearbox and clutch were back in and apparently working well after a shakey start but he was now spewing oil everywhere. It could be a small problem, it could mean taking the whole gearbox off again and wasting even more time waiting for yet more parts. At this point we couldn´t face either option and decided the oil leaks could wait, there was more to life than sitting around Windhoek at the whim of a Landrover.

Whilst pondering how much petrol it would take to set light to Henry, we had a call from a UK biologist who runs education programmes in Zimbabwe, Namibia, Australia and Brazil. He came to meet us at Urban Camp and we had a fascinating chat for a couple of hours about things that were not related to Landrovers! He gave us some good ideas and we him. We agreed to stay in touch and see whether our future plans could align in some way.

In the meantime I had brushed myself down from the disappointment of our farm hunt and started contacting agents again. I had found two new farms – 7,000 hectares in Helmeringhausen well within our budget and 5,000 hectares in Omaruru just a bit outside of our budget.

Omaruru is the nice, affluent town 2.5 hours north of Windhoek with a thriving motorcycle community which James had fallen in love with some months ago. We had made friends, Gerhard and Phillazie, there.

Helmeringhausen is a tiny, dusty town 5 hours south of Windhoek where we knew no-one and nothing.

All I knew was that we could get a great deal more for our money in the south, the landscape was exactly what I wanted and I thought 5 hours from Windhoek was on the edge, but still within, the limit of our search area.

We were realising that we would not be able to find everything we wanted from a farm within our budget, we needed to compromise somewhere. These two farms tested two key boundaries – distance from Windhoek versus cost.

I thought it made sense, James was not convinced. He was not at all keen on settling 5 hours away from Windhoek but eventually he agreed to go and look.

Viewings were arranged for the day after next in Helmeringhausen and four days later in Omaruru. In between we would visit Kobus and Marissa again.

The time came to depart Urban Camp and Windhoek, possibly for the last time. The night before departure I chatted for hours with Pam and Naomi, the two evening staff we had become particularly good friends with, and we hugged our goodbyes. In the morning we said goodbye to the lovely manager, Kristi, and Esme – the first person from Urban Camp who had befriended us. Everyone was very excited about our farm hunt and wished us luck. Esme in particular was very sad to see us go and said she hoped we would find somewhere so we would come back.

I booked us into a campsite 20km north of Helmeringhausen and it took us 4 hours and 45 minutes to get there. James was already annoyed. The scenary was stunning but incredibly sparse

It wasn´t until late in the evening the night before the viewing, when we were already at the campsite, that the agent finally sent a GPS location for the farm itself.

I put the coordinates into the sat nav and my heart sank when it told us we had another hour and a quarter to go before reaching the farm gate. So six hours from Windhoek, not five.

And to make matters worse, whilst the campsite was beautiful

It was remote, isolated, windswept and had a distinct lack of waving yellow grasses, trees or anything else at all!

We set off for the farm the next morning with very low expectations and quite a lot of frustration. As we made a turn down a dirt road on the other side of Helmeringhausen we found ourselves driving over a rocky mountain pass. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. The landscape was not pretty, the road was terrible and any kind of civilisation had been left far behind.

After well over an hour we were 1km away from the house. James pulled to a stop. ´What are we going to do?´ he asked. We had been invited to stay for two days at the farm, staying overnight with the owners. But we were clearly not going to buy it, there seemed to be nothing here that would interest us. We didn´t want to take advantage of their hospitality but would it be worse to turn up, say no and drive away again? In the end we decided we would do just that – better to tell them straight away than waste everyone´s time.

We drove on up to the farmhouse and were warmly greeted by the owners

They looked so pleased to see us, sat us down in their beautiful home and served us tea and nibbles

Their smiling faces and excited demeanour weighed on both of us, this was going to be difficult. James started – ´how long does it take to get to Windhoek from here?´ he asked. They laughed and said they had no idea, they had everything they needed here and Keetmanshoop was only an hour and a half away – anything they needed from Windhoek would be delivered there.

They set out the plans for the next two days – getting to know each other, then lunch, then a drive around one half of the farm. Dinner, more conversation, bed, breakfast, a drive around the other half of the farm then we could stay or leave any time we chose. James gave me a look that said it all – there was no question about it, we were staying!

We had an absolutely wonderful two days with our new friends. They treated us like royalty. There was so much lovely food, every meal was set out like a banquet

The two of them were kind, generous and interesting to talk to – and they were fascinated by tales of our travels. They clearly had an amazing life here and we were getting sucked in.

On our drives around the farm we found a beautiful estate crammed full of yellow grasses, mountains, river beds and quite a few animals

We experienced some of the frustrations of being a farmer from having to mend holes in your water pipes caused by porcupines sharpening their teeth

To punctures from the sharp rocks

The whole place was beautiful, well kept and homely

At the end of the second day it was time to go but it was hard to leave, we all felt very much at home

And yet again we had a great deal to think about. If it wasn´t for the need to get to the airport in Windhoek on a regular basis this could be the perfect life for us.

Back with Kobus and Marissa two days later we talked it all through with them. They don´t feel the same love for the southern landscapes and weren´t at all sure living so far away was the right move, nor living without trees!

Marissa´s birthday had been the day before mine so they treated us to a wonderful meal of lamb in fat balls (like doughnuts) with home made butter and sweet banana slices!

They took us to one of their neighbouring farms which was an established nature conservation reserve

We chatted to the owner about conservation volunteers, hosting student research, attracting like-minded tourists and all sorts of other ways to financially support a conservation venture. He was doing everything we wanted to do and more but he had lived here all his life and had a wealth of connections that we would simply not have.

Things were getting very complicated in my mind. So many options, so many ideas but what was practical and achievable and what was simply a pipe dream.

We carried on north up to Omaruru and our second viewing – the farm in the right place but for the wrong price. En route we made a short stop in Windhoek to renew our road tax but were determined not to stay overnight – we had done Windhoek, the appeal had definitely worn off! The need to renew our tax for the second time showed just how long we had spent in Namibia and we were seriously beginning to feel like residents.

Arriving in Omaruru late in the day our first stop was to go and see our friends Gerhard and Phillazie. They were pleased to see us and, as before, spent most of the next day ringing round all their friends and neighbours trying to find farms for us to buy.

As we drove to the campsite that afternoon we turned a tight corner and a heavy thud came from underneath Henry. A different corner, another thud and again and again. James´ fists went white and the furrow in his brow deepened again. So we had three oil leaks and now a heavy thudding from underneath.

James donned his overalls and spent the next two hours under Henry finding no sign of what the problem was. He said very little that evening and went to bed early without eating. Our future was looking bleak.

The next day we cancelled our farm viewing at the last minute – the agent was an hour and a half late and seemed unable to give us any information about the property. When we finally got a GPS location for it and showed it to Gerhard and Phillazie they warned us off – it was in a high poaching and theft area, not a good part of the region. The agent shouted down the phone at me and told me we owed her money for the time and effort she had spent on us. I politely declined and she phoned back later telling us she had lots of other farms and we should stay in touch!

Gerhard had got in contact with friends who owned a farm in a much better area less than an hour from Omaruru itself. It was way over our budget but it sounded like a successful tourist business and the owners were willing to discuss taking on investors rather than an outright sale. They came to see us that afternoon and seemed lovely and genuine so we arranged to go and visit the next morning.

In the meantime Gerhard put Henry up on his ramps and gave him a thorough going over

A bung was loose on the transfer box causing most of the oil leak – it was a quick and simple job to tighten it. There was a small weep coming from the O-Rings on the Ashcroft output shaft, not a major problem, it could be left as it was but they put silicon around it just to be sure. And as for the thudding noise, they checked thoroughly with professional equipment but everything seemed fine. With nothing lose, they said, it should only be something minor and again nothing to worry about.

Gerhard is good for James, he takes everything in his stride. ´It´s a Landrover´ he says with a smile, it breaks, you fix it, they´re not hard vehicles, just high maintenance. By the time we got back to our campsite James was smiling again, Henry was dry again and we had another farm to visit.

We got on so well with the owners of the farm the next day that we ended up staying overnight with them in one of their guest rooms and James was adopted by their 23 year old cat!

The farm was gorgeous, a good size and the perfect location

But it was 50% over our budget. We could have come to some arrangement with them to give them everything we had now and pay the rest off in five years time when we sell some or all of our UK business assets. But there was no tourist business – the 2016 drought, COVID and ill health had put a stop to everything. The house and other buildings were run down and in need of a lot of money to put right, so with no income stream and all our money spent buying the place we would have nothing left to build it back up again.

So yet another option was dead in the water.

But there seems to be no end to the number of farms available for sale in Namibia and I had multiple agents sending me details every day. Most were not suitable but I was starting to build up another little batch of options. By now, with so many viewings under our belts, we were much more able to be discerning before agreeing to go and see anything.

I was being very critical when reading particulars and James´ unswerving eye for detail was proving invaluable when looking at photos. An option south of Karibib came up – beautiful, within our price range and with lots of water. We dashed over to see it, only an hour away from Omaruru. My goodness was it stunning – the landscape nearly made me cry!

But we were starting to realise that this whole area was a magnet for poaching and theft and this farm in particular was close to a problem farm where an extended family of career criminals lived. Even the owner of the farm we were looking at warned us about them and when we chatted to our campsite owners later in the day they told us we would be unwise to buy in that area.

The campsite itself was interesting though, it was just a small plot of 63 hectares on the outskirts of the town but they kept a huge number of animals including giraffe and even a rhino! Maybe a bit too much like a zoo for our liking but it was a lovely place to stay for the night and plan our next steps.

As well as getting creative over breakfast again!

James was looking through the details of a few farms I had sent him – one perfect but out of our budget, one in Maltahohe again so not pretty at all just a working livestock farm, and one back in Helmeringhausen. I had all but rejected all of them but to my complete surprise James highlighted the one in Helmeringhausen – back in the remote south again.

It had a stunning, stone farmhouse which really sparked his imagination – lovely workmanship and attention to detail. This one was closer to the town than the first one we saw so only five hours from Windhoek not six, 8,000 hectares and well within budget.

We rang the agent and made an appointment. It was a seven hour drive from where we were in Omaruru but the stone house was calling to James and the south calls to me all the time!

By now we had seen seven farms and waded through the details of seventy more. James had already commented that we were getting farm´d out and I tended to agree.

Every time we went to visit one we were excited beyond words. Every time we realised it wasn´t right we were gutted. I was beginning to get incredibly frustrated, there were so many farms for sale and with the economy the way it is at the moment it was a buyer’s market. But there was always a catch, always a reason why we couldn´t, or shouldn´t, buy it.

I was also beginning to wonder whether we had just jumped on a roller coaster and were unable to get off it. There was always one more farm to see, one more agent to talk to, had we actually stopped to think properly about whether we were ready to buy a home at all and stop being permanent travellers? We both agreed that we were not about to give up travelling altogether but was it realistic to think we could own a huge farm in Namibia and be able to leave it for six months of the year to travel? And was it any more realistic to think we could have a home here, travel and keep going back to the UK twice a year?

All these thoughts were racing through my mind every day. When we thought a farm was going to be perfect I got worried about the practicalities. When we found it wasn´t right I was devastated that the dream was unattainable. I felt like I was becoming schizophrenic.

We had plenty of time to think about all this over the next four days because the owner of the farm we were hoping to see lived in Windhoek and the farm manager who could give us access had only a vague relationship with mobile phones! We were staying at a campsite near Omaruru reluctant to drive 7 hours south if we couldn´t get an appointment, especially as we were generally trying to go north. The campsite was beautiful

That evening it was getting cold again so we indulged in a warm fire

And new socks knitted by our friend Marissa

This campsite was lovely and the owner was very friendly. He proudly showed us the remarkably well built new swimming pool he had just put in and James was very impressed by the workmanship

In the fact quality of the build across the whole campsite was remarkable and we chatted to him about how to get hold of tradespeople who can produce this standard of work

He said he was looking to sell some of his land and would be happy to discuss parting with 1,000 hectares. It was a tempting offer – lovely views, just the right location – but 1,000 hectares is just not enough to do anything meaningful with. We took his contact details though and said we would stay in touch.

We spent three nights waiting for news from our Helmeringhausen farm and passed the time on the second day trying out the new extension we had bought in Pretoria but not yet used – it was like having a little house attached to the Landrover

Eventually we decided to move on to another campsite an hour south of Windhoek even though we were still no closer to having an agreed appointment to view the farm than we had been three days before. We stayed overnight and parked up at the reception area the next morning waiting for news – getting increasingly bored and frustrated. This farm-hunting malarky was getting a bit tiresome.

We had pretty much decided to give up and head north instead but something kept nagging at my brain that it would be worth waiting for and James seemed no less keen to hang on.

Just as we were looking at the sat nav to plot our course north my phone rang and the farm manager sheepishly apologised for being so hard to get hold of and invited us to meet him at the farm gate the following morning.

Jubilant, we set off. We decided to stay at the same campsite we had been at when we were last in Helmeringhausen seeing the lovely but too remote farm the week before.

This time, the same scenery seemed familiar and welcoming, the mountains majestic and beautiful

And with expectations higher, the view from the campsite somehow seemed far more appealing

The owners of the campsite remembered us and were thrilled to hear that we were back searching for a home here. They sent us contact details for their daughter and son-in-law who live nearby. He´s from the UK and they were building a new home on the family land – they could be very interesting people to talk to about life here.

The gate to the farm we were seeing was only 10km away from the town but then it was another 11km over two neighbouring farms to get to the property itself. This is not unusual in Namibia and to a large extent it´s a positive thing for a farm not to border a road as it makes it much more secure. Not that security is as big an issue down in Helmeringhausen as it is in Omaruru or further north – there are far fewer people and crime is much lower.

We met Jacques, the farm manager, at the gate and followed him the 11km to the farm itself. At first the road was smooth, red, Kalahari sand. We were talking about what car to buy, what size solar system to install, whether to have a thatched roof on the house. We were both very definitely planning our future here. We had to go through two or three locked gates – this was the legal right of way into the farm but the neighbours quite understandably wanted to ensure they knew who was crossing their land. Not ideal for deliveries or for tourist guests but we could find a way.

The road became a little more bumpy, a culvert had been cut down one side and humps built up across the road itself. Not an easy drive but we could discuss alternative options with the neighbours. James was still optimistic. A few kilometers further on we entered a rocky mountain pass, a steep drop down one side. This was hard core 4×4 driving and it was the only access road into the farm. A goat would have had trouble crossing this!

Our hearts sank. Why is there always one problem with every farm? Why can we not find one that we could live on and be happy? I felt a little angry with the world, it´s not supposed to be this hard!

The stone house was as beautifully built as it looked in the photos. James´ imagination ran wild with possibilities

Spacious but run down inside, allowing us the fun of doing it up to our tastes

And the farm itself was jaw-droppingly, stunningly beautiful, everything I could ever want and more in our Namibian home

The infrastructure was run down, the current owner had bought the farm 10 years ago but always lived in Windhoek, visiting only three or four times a year. And they weren´t farmers. It showed, but the condition was fairly reflected in the price and we were up for a project.

We put the drone up to see whether there were other possibilities for access. We discussed alternative business potential that didn´t rely on good access. We tried everything we could think of to make the access not a problem.

We failed.

We were both bitterly disappointed. This farm was the dream, it was perfect in every way. But neither we nor any visitors could actually get to it without putting our lives in our hands, or at the very least being frustrated and challenged every time we needed to get in or out. It was isolated, cut-off and quite claustrophobic.

A different agent had sent us another farm in Helmeringhausen a couple of weeks before but it was out of our price range and we had had enough of seeing lovely farms that we couldn´t afford. So I had told the agent our budget and said that unless the owner was willing to come down to that it was a no. Three days before seeing the isolated farm, that agent had text out of the blue sending 139 photos of the more expensive farm.

It looked very nice but I was annoyed with the agent for using up so much of our data sending so many photos of a farm we couldn´t afford and was a bit short with him. He said he had spoken to the owner again and he had knocked another N$2M off the price he was willing to accept. That made it only N$1.5M above our maximum budget – nice, I had said, but we can´t magic up the equivalent of around £75,000 out of nowhere. Fair enough came the answer, maybe it´s just a case of waiting until the farm hasn´t sold for another year then the owner might reconsider.

With the disappointment of the farm we had just seen raw in our minds I petulantly contacted this other agent and said that whilst we were down in Helmeringhausen we may as well go and see his farm. At least then we would know whether it was right for us if, in the future, the owner dropped his price again. The agent was delighted and the owner agreed we could go and visit the following day.

So in the morning we drove from the campsite back to Helmeringhausen, a route we were getting quite familiar with by now. This time we turned west towards the tourist hotspots of Sossussvlei, Solitaire and the Namib Naukluft Park. West was also the direction that took us closer to the yellow grassy plains and mountains. It was only a 20 minute drive from the town to the farm and James was in good spirits. The farm not only bordered the road but was on both sides of it – not ideal but it was quiet and safe around here, we could tell that as all the farm houses were built close to the road.

As we drove up the drive it didn´t initially look like the prettiest farm we had seen.

The house looked cracked and run down but solid

And inside it looked suitably shabby and in need of just the sort of renovation we were keen to do

Including a whole new solar system!

The area around the farm was spacious with nice views

And when we got out onto the land itself it was lovely

There was nothing wrong with this farm! At almost 10,000 hectares it was large, the second largest after the Maltahohe farm. It was in reasonable condition, water, access and security were all ok and it had the yellow grass and mountains we hoped for.

But we couldn´t afford it.

As we said our goodbyes to the friendly owner my mind was racing. We had learnt that, whilst it was expensive and time consuming to apply to split a farm into two, if it was already split by a road it made things a lot easier.

So once back at the campsite I called the agent and asked whether there was any possibility that the owner would consider selling us just the larger piece on one side of the road. If you don´t ask, you’ll never know! The agent told me that the farm was, in fact, already two farms and that the owner had said he would be prepared to sell just one of them. My heart leapt into my mouth, I couldn´t believe what I was hearing.

The agent said he would measure the larger portion the next day and speak to the owner about the option. We told him we would pay the market rate for the land per hectare which was less that the owner wanted but more than anyone else had offered him in the last two years of trying to sell.

The next day we heard that the larger portion was 6,900 hectares and the wife was happy with the proposal but needed to speak to her husband. The wife lived in Windhoek, had married into the farm and disliked it. The husband lived on the farm and it had been in his family for generations. He was going to be the hard sell.

The next day we were invited to visit the couple who were building a house on their family farm. Darren, the Londoner, and Anna, the daughter of our campsite owners. They welcomed us and showed us around their home. It was huge and modern, they had everything you could ever need and said that being away from cities, towns and stress was a wonderful life. We chatted for hours about possible business ventures for a farm down here, how strong and friendly the community are and the challenges of building a house so far away from supplies and labour. We also met their dogs, cats and horses. We had a great day and were already feeling as though we were settling in to the area.

We waited all the next day for news from the owner of our farm but nothing came. The family kept saying they couldn´t get hold of him. We weren´t sure we believed that and were getting a little frustrated. That evening we had a couple of glasses of wine and passed the time watching the fire (bushman´s television!) and watching the sun go down over the stunning mountains. It was so peaceful and beautiful, I felt an overwhelming desire to have this life for ourselves and James said a few times how much he thought life on a remote farm would suit us.

Whilst we waited the campsite owners kept us nourished with home made bread and jam, lamb and steak from the farm – who needs shops around here??

We were now into our third day since the viewing and still no news from the husband about our proposal. We told the agent we would have to leave by midday as we couldn´t just sit and wait forever. Midday came and we sadly packed up and headed up to the house where the owners of the campsite lived to pay our bill. They knew what was going on and were very sad to hear that we had given up. We were gutted.

We climbed back into Henry and drove slowly up the drive back to the road. Just as we were approaching the gate my phone rang. It was the agent, our proposal had been accepted and we were invited for a second visit the following day.

We looked at each other in amazement and headed straight back to the campsite for one more night. Could we have finally found our Namibian home? Were we about to cross the line and find a place to settle? Was this blog about to become all about farming and less about travelling?? Or was life going to throw yet another spanner in the works and set us winging away to Zimbabwe and the East Coast? We had one more sleep before we could find out…