And so I arrived at Epupa Falls to write the picture. Already awed by the makalani palm forest on the banks of the Kunene River with Angola and a similar forest mirrored on the opposite bank with its grassy mountains above, and already having spent a night dreaming to the tune of the water rushing to leap over the 35-metre drop to the gorge below, I ventured to the falls. On my first visit, they seemed small in comparison to the Victoria Falls where the Zambezi River plunges over the rocks. Epupa Falls is rich in African character and, like the campsites, the atmosphere is relaxed and simple, with people washing in the pools at the water’s edge and a multicoloured string of clothes hanging in the makalani palms. Himba boys walk past with their unique high pony-tailed hairstyles and fabric wraps, their sticks in hand. The amount of the water in the falls depends on the season and the hydroelectric plant 135 kilometres upstream at Ruacana, with the dam usually closed over weekends. A few baobabs cling precariously to the rocks above the chasm, belying the peaceful atmosphere, and mountains and trees surround the watery tumble of the Kunene River.
I sat in the makalani shade at the campsite, lulled by the rumbling water and refreshed by the waterfall mist, and in the late afternoon walked the short distance back to Epupa Falls for a second helping of baobab-and-water treat. This time, the dam gates were open and myriad spectacular waterfalls gushed down in torrents, sending rainbows heavenwards in breathtaking bursts. I sat on the rocks on the side of the falls and absorbed powerful magnificence until the gold of the afternoon disappeared into dusk.
Driving south, back to Opuwo, I followed the old woman’s final instructions and watched the majestic baobab kings disappear in my rear-view mirror one by one. That evening I dialled her number to give her my impressions of Epupa Falls.