Magic hour seems to last an eternity in Namibia. Sunset stains the sky scarlet and burnishes every rock gold, ochre and vibrant orange. It's impossible not to get whimsical. My fiancée, Helen Glover, and I sit in a tiny cave, high up a boulder mount. The low-hanging roof is like a giant Roman nose of rock above us, and there's the slightly pungent odour of a dassie, or rock hyrax, that has recently scarpered.
The plains below are scattered with other boulder piles, grumpy black peaks beyond them, and dust-devil whirlwinds whip up the sands as thousands of unseen barking geckos chuckle merrily away. Scratched and sweat-encrusted from the climb, we feel like Neanderthals, scouting our domain for the following day's hunt.
Helen has always had a passion for the natural world, but faced with the demands of a career as an Olympic rower, she never had the chance to
Source: The best of Africa? Namibia, no contest
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