The water flows swiftly, confidently. My twin sister shoves up against me, her excited grin reflecting mine. We have always wanted to swim in the Orange River; to say that we've been in two country's at once; to feel the pull of the current trying its best to tug us along.
I love water. And this river is the perfect specimen. Warm, strong, broad, perfect; and with a really amazing view to look at when you're being swept along, the sun staining your skin, the water lapping up at your face and flirting with your hair.
We (my five-man family) run back up the sandy hill to our huts to get changed. The sand jumps between my barefoot feet, lifting up behind me. This is the first stop on the way to Windhoek and Swakopmund, and only the start-off adventure of our summer holiday. We've stopped just before the border, on the South African side. It was a rocky road getting here, but that's rather common in this area and our excitement sustained us.
We throw on our costumes and grab our towels, racing each other. After a few minutes, our little group is amassed next to the river. No-one else is here, which is shocking. The day is perfect; the summer sun beaming at us from its vantage point. We certainly don't mind - we get the whole Orange river to ourselves.
We swim for what feels like hours, diving under and finding beautiful river rocks. My sisters shove at each other and dunk me under the water. I release my toes' unsteady grip on the river floor, and float downstream, allowing it to take me where it will, befor I flip around, submerge myself, and swim back to my family.
The water pulls us along, and all is better than I had imagined. We eat sandwiches on the sand when our skin has grown wrinkled and prunish in the water. There's nothing like a traveler's makeshift burger in a new place. It just fits.
The Orange River is something that should be visited at least once in a lifetime. It exists in such a harsh place, surrounded by sun-blackened mountains and sparse, twisted brush. And it flourishes.
