A quiet place

I remember sitting out in the darkness and hearing, well, nothing at all. It was night-time, late, but the moon was yet to rise over the NamibRand Nature Reserve. My travelling companions were asleep in their rooms. Not that I’d have heard them anyway; the tents at Kwessi Dunes are spaced far apart.

Mine was the last in a line of seven under-canvas suites; shaded by an acacia during the day, but with starry views from the private porch facing the Nubib Mountains shimmering in the starlight. Without even an ice block clinking in my nightcap to disturb the scene it was perfectly, supernaturally, quiet.

So, it was no surprise to learn that the NamibRand has been recognised as the first Wilderness Quiet Park in Africa. OK, I hear you say. A Park without noise. Big deal.

But I’d say quiet is underrated. When we travel, we so often go in search of stimulation. The buzz of a big city. The rush of flitting between one attraction to the next. The energy of a crowded European square, or the colourful cacophony of a market in Brazzaville. Cruise ships are gleefully, sometimes maniacally, places of unending noise and entertainment. Step aboard and you need not fear being left along with your thoughts for a moment.

Those all have their place, sure, but I think the pendulum is starting to swing. Just look at the increased focus on wellness in travel — a $1.4-trillion business by 2027, say some researchers — or even the prevalence of Japanese shinrin-yoku, or “forest bathing”.  Granted, there are no forests out in the NamibRand — only the occasional lonely acacia — but there is silence and solitude in abundance.

And in a world filled with incessant noise and distraction, the need for quiet has never been more acute. An absence of quiet can affect our hearing, sleep, cognitive function and mental health. And it’s not just a case of plugging in the old noise-cancelling headphones. Quiet is about more than the absence of sound. It’s about a space to pause. To breathe. To slow your heart and unclench your jaw. To be in a quiet space and find quiet ourselves.

That is the goal of Quiet Parks International, a US-based nonprofit organisation and a social movement “committed to saving quiet for the benefit of all life” because, they say, “when we save quiet, we save everything else”.

In the NamibRand that rings especially true, and this remarkable private nature reserve has managed to conserve a vast swathe of southern Namibia. The reserve dates back to 1984, when Albi Brückner began buying up failing sheep farms, pulling down the fences and letting the land rewild. And, in the process, become quiet again. Today it’s a remarkable reserve stretching across 200,000ha where cheetahs roam free, leopards prowl the rocky ridges and oryx plod silently across the iron-red sand dunes. But mostly, it’s the landscape that’s the drawcard, and the absence of too much to do is precisely what made such an impression on Edward Alant, field recordist for Quiet Parks International.

“I was mesmerised by the peace and tranquillity of the ever-changing landscape during my time at NamibRand,” says Alant. “The dunes are alive and moving — recording in the desert gives you an appreciation of the complex challenges faced by so many reserves across the African continent. When I listen to the recordings, I can relive the moments, walking through the deep sand, setting up my recorder in an Acacia tree, and taking a few minutes to listen ... a Wilderness Quiet Park Award symbolises the effort expended by the owners and management of NamibRand to preserve the integrity of the natural ecosystem.”

“We are thrilled to be recognised as Africa’s first Wilderness Quiet Park,” says Nils Odendaal, CEO of NamibRand Nature Reserve, which in 2012 was also designated a Gold Tier International Dark Sky Reserve. “This accolade underscores our dedication to preserving the tranquillity of NamibRand and promoting responsible tourism practices. We hope this designation will inspire others to appreciate and conserve our natural world.”

Of course, there is a certain irony in travellers like me flying in on noisy piston-engine Cessnas to come and appreciate the silence their plane has just shattered. But, like most things in the desert, that noise doesn’t last for long. It’s soon swallowed up and forgotten, and the (almost tangible) silence returns.

The remoteness of the reserve adds to that silent allure. Across the 200,000hayou’ll find just a handful of lodges. Wolwedans was a pioneer and has refreshed many of its luxury lodges and camps over the past few years. Slackpacking hiking trails offer a more immersive alternative, while Kwessi Dunes by Natural Selection is a new arrival that sits neatly in the middle, offering understated luxury in its 12 under-canvas suites, and the most glorious pool in the Namib.

And it’s Kwessi where I find myself on that night, gazing across the plains — washed clean by afternoon rain — to the Nubib Mountains in starlight. Time moves more slowly, imperceptibly, when we are free of distraction, and I can’t wait to return.