It’s known as the Acre of Death. The last 18 km of the 60 km long narrow strip of beach north of the Kunene in Angola is marked “Extremely Dangerous” on maps.
When the spring tide is low, you can drive through to Tombua in the north, but only if you know the terrain and the way the sea and the weather will change. The alternative is a day’s detour inland through the Iona National Park.
Two years ago, the seasoned traveller Johan Badenhorst and his Voetspore team had a close escape in the Acre of Death.
Even back then, Johan wrote you need a bit more than just knowledge and experience to deal with it: “This place demands that you judge the tide right, that you have some skill as well as luck, and that you’re driving a decent vehicle.”

Experience isn’t everything

Now the Acre of Death has struck again. Anton and Annemarie Slabbert of Randburg have been crisscrossing Southern Africa for years. “We’ve been through all of South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Mozambique, Malawi and Zambia,” Anton recalls.
The two couples who travelled with them, Lappe and Salomie Labuschagne and Wittes and Susan Heymans, all have more than 10 years’ 4x4 experience.
The group set off in mid-June − the Slabberts in a Toyota Hilux KZ-TE, the Labuschagnes in a Toyota Land Cruiser diesel bakkie called Boela, and the Heymans in a new Toyota Hilux 3.0 D-4D, with radio contact between them.

On Sunday, 20 June, they crossed the border at Ruacana. By Tuesday they reached the mouth of the Kunene, Foz do Cunene, their last stop before the Acre of Death.
“It all went relatively well until we got to Foz do Cunene,” says Anton. “En route we had to replace a damaged pipe between the main and extra diesel tank, and a big rock hit the wish bone underneath the bakkie, but nothing too serious.”
The plan was to spend two nights at Foz do Cunene, waiting for spring tide to enable them a hassle-free drive through the Acre of Death.
“When we arrived, the owner of the cottages we’d booked wasn’t there. He should have come from Tombua to unlock it for us and to advise us about the Acre of Death,” says Annemarie.
“We thought that if his plan was to get through the Acre of Death to us before spring tide, we too could get through earlier.”
Little did they know that the owner hadn’t made it through because a cold front blowing in from the south was causing waves of up to four metre. “Due to the large numbers of World Cup tourists, we couldn’t get a satellite phone. If we’d had one, the owner would have been able to warn us.
“Then a tour group arrived from the north, having just driven through the Acre of Death. Their Namibian guide gave us his tide chart and assured us we’d get through easily.
“As we had the right camping gear, we decided to set up camp on the beach, as closely as possible to the Bay of Tigers, the start of the Acre of Death.”

WEDNESDAY, 23 JUNE | Bye-bye, dear bakkie …

Following the guide’s advice, they decided the next morning to tackle the Acre of Death at 8 am.
“We calculated that we had to leave an hour before low tide,” says Annemarie. “And that’s where the fun started.”
Just before reaching the Bay of Tigers, you have to swing inland to avoid a salt marsh. “You drive inland, close to the dunes, before heading back to the sea around the swamps.”
Back on the beach, they made good progress, until Lappe’s Cruiser, which was leading the way to make a track, started overheating because he had to wait for a big wave every now and again.
Wittes’ Hilux took over the lead.
“Suddenly my bakkie sank into the sand. It just got sucked in,” says Anton.
He alerted the others over the radio and they turned around to recover the Hilux.
That’s when things went seriously pear-shaped.

“We broke two kinetic straps trying to pull the Hilux out, but it wouldn’t budge,” says Anton.
They also tried lifting one of the back wheels, of which the tyre had slipped off the rim, with the jack, but there was not enough space between the vehicle and the sand for the jack to fit in.
“We were still trying to dig out the bakkie when a huge wave swept through underneath the bakkie, and hit the dune.
“It caused the bakkie to get sucked into the sand even more. That’s when we realised it was time to get the hell out,” sighs Anton.
“I tied the spare wheel to the roof rack, grabbed the radio and locked the car. Goodness knows why!”
Annemarie grabbed their documents, her vanity case, handbag and camera and hopped into the single-cab Land Cruiser with Lappe and his wife, on Salomie’s lap. Anton got a ride with Wittes and his wife in the Hilux.
“If you draw a horizontal line on a map from the top of the island in the Bay of Tigers, it indicates more or less where we abandoned the bakkie.”
Just around the first corner, says Annemarie, the Cruiser’s clutch packed up.
“Fortunately, Lappe drove to a dune when he felt the problem starting. Almost at the dune, the wheels wouldn’t turn any longer.
“We buried the two spare tyres deep in the sand and anchored the bakkie to it with the winch and kinetic strap.
“Then the tide started coming in big time,” she says. “The water washed up the side of the dune, passed through underneath the truck, hitting it again as it washed back down the dune. At times, the water lifted the vehicle, but the anchors held firm. We threw out as many emergency items as possible – water cans, important documents, bedding …”
At one stage, Lappe accepted Boela was a goner. Evening fell, and high tide came in again.
They radioed Wittes’ group about the broken clutch, without knowing whether they got through.
It was some consolation that they had food and water for at least a week.
They tried settling in for the night some distance up a dune.
Lappe watched the waves all night long and kept on covering the anchors as the waves were washing the sand from it.