Big, dark green with bells and whistles, shining in the light, I took ownership of Tintin. I had reached a significant milestone in more ways than one, and my rite of passage was about to blossom and to change me forever.
I’d gone shopping for an overland vehicle. The sales guys at Land Rover looked bemused and a little apprehensive when I arrived with my white Pyrenean dog, Tintin, in their immaculate showroom. If Tintin could fit comfortably in the back, they would have the sale. He did, and I ordered the TD5 Defender 90 imported from the UK arriving in a couple of months to fall around my birthday. Equipped with a second fuel tank, snorkel, roof rack, dual inverter battery, bull bar and spare wheel carrier, I paid dearly for the license registration of Tintin2 in honour of my dog who was my firstborn and was getting on in age as dogs unfairly do. It seemed fitting to have his namesake, and the adventurous character of Hergé depicted so cleverly in his book series, The Adventures of Tintin.
Within days of my birthday, I picked up the handsome green creature. The dealer guys had tied a big red satin bow across the bonnet—it was love at first sight. I drove home with the bow still intact in the afternoon traffic with people hooting and waving.
So started the process of getting information on what I needed to overland solo. First importantly to drive it properly—I did a course and realised the power of this vehicle in mud, soft sand and water. Climbing rocky ascendants while my hands clutched the steering wheel till they went white as I felt the chassis twist and right itself. I tested the inverter system to charge my camera batteries and other gadgets needed.
At night I scoured the 4 x 4 forums trying to pick up tips from all the macho men threads. What GPS, what fridge, what rescue kits they used, and several other subjects. I already had quite a bit of camping gear, but as girl-scout, putting up a tent on your own is not a logical process in a Kalahari wind. It becomes a mission of sweat and swearing. I needed equipment with the main focus of being on my own, that I could handle no matter the conditions. How to pack, how to secure items on the roof-rack, what to take and what was unnecessary. All these preoccupied my time as I shopped and studied for bits and pieces. At an overland store I packed fridge after fridge, once againto the amusment of the sales staff - to see if I could lift it.
I was preparing for my ‘maiden-voyage’, which would take me into two neighbouring countries. I revelled in all the planning, sucking every drop out of the knowledge that it all came down to me and not relying on someone else. ‘My ship’ had morphed into a green brute that would carry me into the reality of those day-dreams. And as Mr Twain said, I was ready to throw off the bowlines and sail away from the safe harbour to explore.
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” - Mark Twain