I felt the heat the minute I got off the plane in Windhoek. I’d got an inkling of how hot it would be in the desert from the way the aircraft had bumped and lurched its way from Johannesburg. But as I stepped on to the tarmac, Namibia felt like an oven. At the end of the runway, a heat mirage shimmered against a background of dead yellow grass. On the other side of customs, Camlo Martin, the pilot who would fly me into the desert on his four-seater Cessna, wasn’t worried about the heat.

Source: The Times March 13, 2020 23:54 UTC