We spied land at sunrise. Ridges of sand and barren rock glowed along the eastern horizon sliding past Sonrisa’s starboard side. For most of the night, Sonrisa had been sailing just off shore of a grid of red dots spaced equally on the chart and marked "Prohibited to Entry." Sometimes there are old landmines at the bottom of the seabed, leftover from prior wars. Sometimes there are gas pipelines, internet cables, or other infrastructure places don’t want you to tear up by laying anchors. But usually, those are marked on the map with symbols that explain what lies below. Here, there’s nothing more than “Prohibited to Entry.”

“What is this, do you think?” I ask Andrew, who had been zooming in to see our port entrance.

“I bet it’s where they do the diamond mining,” Andrew explains. He knew this based mostly on the fact that once in port, Sonrisa has been promised a heavy-duty mooring to keep her safe while we travel inland to explore. “Sonrisa’s mooring is usually used by heavy diamond mining boats.”

“But why is it prohibited to entry? I don’t see any infrastructure out here.”

“The chart should probably say: ‘Prospectors! Keep out or we’ll shoot you!’” 

We were aiming toward a small town in the Southern region of Namibia called Luderitz. Our sailing friends who passed through this area in the years and months before us always marvel at Namibia’s unique landscape. For us, though, we were looking forward to sailing into a place that looks a bit like home. As Sonrisa made her turn into the shipping lane, we were surrounded by rolling rock hills that play orange, red, tan, black or white in the shifting light. If I didn’t know better, we could have been sailing into Lake Mead!

I nudge Sonrisa’s bow up to a sturdy mooring as Andy, the local man who cares for the moorings rows his hand built fiberglass dinghy our way. He helps Andrew slip two ropes through the mooring loop, one from either side of Sonrisa’s bow to make a bridle. “There!” Andrew says as he adjusts the chafe gear to prevent the ropes from tearing through, “That should be good to go.” Like in Nevada, the wind can really get howling here as it blows across a desert. Even within just a few hours we were expecting the winds to pipe up to 40 knots in the anchorage. With a bottom comprised of soft mud/silt over the top of rock, boats have previously reported dragging uncontrollably when the winds are high. To avoid any of those shenanigans, we opted for the diamond boat mooring.

Andy guides us to shore where we meet our check-in duties through a series of refreshingly friendly officials, accessible locations, and easy processes. Remarkable, as it is a rare condition for check-in the world over. “You can anchor off in these bays over here," Andy says pointing in various directions, “but those dunes are strictly off limits.”

“Really, why?” I ask.

“De Beers.” He shrugs. The De Beers family is the world’s purveyor of diamonds, and they own or lease enormous tracts of land here in Namibia. “If people knew how common diamonds are, they’d be worthless. You know they are just laying all over the ground, here, right?” Andy says.

I did not know this, no.

“But, don’t get any crazy ideas. You won’t get away with it.”

Diamond Fever built Luderitz and its surrounding towns. In the early 1900s a German man interested in mineral exploration was searching the area with his local Namibian guides. They knew he was interested in minerals, and so showed him to an area with millions of clear stones lying on the surface of the ground. Examining the stone, he could see the diamond’s tale-tell octahedron crystal pattern, but he simply could not believe that a diamond was just sitting there atop the Earth’s surface. Diamonds are usually formed in volcanic lava tubes, and so must be mined from deep in the ground. He stayed quiet, returned to Germany, and had the stone examined. It was, indeed, a Diamond.

This same man returned to Namibia and quietly began buying up as much land as he could based upon his knowledge of where these diamond deposits were likely to be. By the early 1900s, whole cities had sprung up to house families of people who moved from Germany to be a part of the diamond action. One of our first adventures into shore was to visit Kolmannskuppe, an abandon diamond mining town from which ¾ of the world’s diamonds came at least at one point in history.

Would you believe it if I told you that Kolmannskuppe, Namibia was one of the first cities in the whole world to have electricity run through all its buildings? The wealth that flowed from the diamond business was immense. Kolmannskuppe had city engineers, architects, teachers, sausage makers (of course, Namibia was a German colony) ice makers, swimming pools, a gymnasium and theater…it was a high society!

In the meantime, those who hadn’t already gotten in the game were trying to break in with all manner of diamond smuggling strategies. Workers would come from near and far to crawl on their bellies and pluck diamonds from the ground. They’d turn most of the diamonds they found over to the business, but would (try to) save just a few from themselves. They’d install secret compartments in their shoes or in the spine of their books, they’d swallow the diamonds whole, and my personal favorite…sometimes they’d try to enlist the help of messenger pigeons.

But of course, none of this was going to fly. As unsophisticated as the smuggling tactics were, the solutions were more so: Workers would be locked into the diamond compound for several months’ long contracts, and at the end of their contract if they wanted to leave, they’d be subjected to a laxative and a 48 hour stay with a toilet + strainer to capture any loose sparkles. X-Ray machines were invented around this time as well, and here they were not used to inspect broken bones, but the bodies, books, and bags of diamond miners to ensure complete honesty.

In theory, this area is “all mined out” and they started finding bigger diamonds to the South near the Namibian/South African border. Kolmannskuppe’s high society dried up and blew away, to be replaced by sand.

But to this day, the valley where most of the mining took place is fenced off with barbed wire. We were threatened with both 10 years in prison and a $1.5 million dollar fine if we even tried to enter the fenced off area.

 This of course only inspired our little group of sailors to spend hours brainstorming all manner of diamond smuggling “strategerie.” You know…just in case we did come upon a diamond.

“Do you know what a raw diamond would look like?” I asked.

None of us did, though we all had nice theories.

If diamonds are usually found deep in the earth, how did they end up strewn all over the Namibian desert floor? The wind blew them there.“The wind can’t blow diamonds hundreds of miles from their source!” I said when Andrew tried to re-explain the answer he’d read on an informational sign. (Andrew never passes up an informational sign.)

“It’s true! The volcanic activity to form the diamonds occurred near the Orange River further South. Over time the water and the wind eroded away the volcanic sediment leaving loose diamonds to blow around the Namib Desert.”

“Two hundred miles North to Kolmannskuppe?” This, I just could not believe.

“Yes!”

“The wind can’t blow diamonds two hundred miles north.”

“It did! That’s why the Kolmannskuppe diamonds are so much smaller. All the big diamonds are still down there by the river. Or washed into the ocean from the river.” Andrew explained. I suppose if wind and sand has the power to consume a whole city, they probably can blow diamonds here and there as well.

It was just a few nights later, I had just completed my day’s work at the yacht club and Paul the bar tenders was topping up the Windoek drafts of three local men who pulled up “their bar stools” three down from mine. “Pour her a beer, too, Paul!” The one closest to me says, and pokes his right thumb in my direction.

This begins the usual conversation one might have with the unfamiliar person at your local watering hole which could be entitled the “What Cat Dragged You In Questionnaire:”

“Where are you from?”

“How did you get here?”

“How long are you staying?”

“What are you planning to do while you are here?” Etc.

The men introduce themselves as the Commodore of the Yacht Club, The Local Cold Water Diver, and their Diamond Mining Friend.

“Oh!” I said, “We visited Kolmannskuppe today, so I know all about diamond smuggling, now.” This gives my crew a little chuckle, and some crass jokes about laxatives makes the circuit.

“I knew a guy who found a 9 karat diamond, once.” One man says.

The Diamond Miner scoffs. “That’s nothing. The biggest one I have ever found was 21 karats.” This man is dressed in canvas overalls with high vis orange stripes had a scruffy beard and long hair the color and texture of hay. It had been tangled in the winds that had been blowing sand dunes across the roads, across the railroad tracks, and into Sonrisa’s rigging all day.

“He works on the Orange River,” the second man explained to me. “He’s just visiting for the weekend.”

“No kidding!” I say, “How big is a 21 karat diamond in the raw?” I wonder, considering how much might get cut away to shape it into the polished sparkly bit we are familiar with. The man pinches his thumb and forefinger together to form a circle the size of a shooting marble.

“Wow! I bet you swallowed that one!” I said.

This gave them another chuckle and a second round of laxative jokes makes the circuit.

This was a fully employed treasure hunter, a De Beers man. But Namibia makes treasure hunters of everyone.

We were planning a trip to Fish River Canyon where I suspected a combination of thin desert air, the absence of large cities, and this week’s new moon would offer unmatched opportunity to find a few diamonds in the sky.

But first! To make arrangements for Katherine Hepburn.

Andy, the mooring keeper, had offered keep Kitty company in our absence, a package deal he said is “included with the cost of the mooring.” The morning before departure, he popped over for a visit and a cup of coffee. He arrived with a packet of photographs tucked under his arm.

“This is me, back in the day,” he says, handing me a photograph of his younger self, standing aboard a ship next to a deep sea diving suit.  He takes a sip of his coffee.  “I show all the captains this when the leave their boats (and cats) in my care. You know, to show them that I can be trusted with that sort of thing.”

 I inspect the deep sea diving suit more closely as he details both it’s prior use and hopes for the future.

“Think of all the deep sea diamonds you could prospect with that thing!” I say, imaging Andy swimming the breast stroke through the waters charted as “prohibited to entry.”

Andy waves his hand with dismissal. “Diamonds, more common than dirt, not worth my time.” But then, his eyes took on the sparkle of a treasure hunter and he launched into a full blown scheme to unearth jam jars full of rubies and raise ships preserved in the tanins of 17th Century Chinese tea.

We’re all treasure hunters in Namibia.