It had been a most unusual day. At dawn, I had risen into the sky in a hot air balloon over the sand dunes at Sossusvlei, Namibia and gazed down at the spectral scene beneath. Breakfast included champagne, smoked game, fresh fruit and six varieties of fresh bread, served at a long, cloth-bedecked table in the desert.
Later, the temperature reached 45 degrees as we trundled along in our battered truck. We had already stopped three times to pour precious drinking water into a spitting, boiling radiator, and now we were once again grinding to a halt.
At dusk, our driver informed us that the head gasket had blown. From now on we were on our own, 250 kilometres from anywhere. No traffic had passed in three hours; the view from any angle was of sand, rock and an occasional thorn bush. The blinding light of the day had retreated from the encroaching shadows of night. We were stressed, tired, worried, and disheartened. But most of all, we were thirsty. Thirsty for cool, soothing water, parched from endlessly discussing our options as much as from lack of liquid. What was left in our tank was rusty, a watery grave for several tiny insects.
So it was with relief that I withdrew my Aquapure Traveller water bottle from my locker, to envious stares. It was a moment of resignation. As the pure, safe water refreshed my body, anger and fear dissipated, and optimism took hold. Sure enough, within an hour we were squashed into the back of a utility vehicle - albeit alongside a putrid dead goat - en route to warm hospitality at a nearby farm, which had been hidden from our site on the road.
This was not the only occasion I was glad to have my Aquapure Traveller water bottle, but it is the most memorable!
Maureen Moss
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