Somewhere.

I'm rooting for the defiant tree.

Sesriem, Namibia – An evening cold had dropped into the desert, but the rising sun warns menacingly of its impending bite.

Knowingly, a springbok grazes on the hill, snacking before the heat becomes unbearable.

We spent the night at the Canon Roadhouse campgrounds near Fish River Canyon, which is the world's second-largest canyon at 156 kilometres long, 27 kilometres wide and 550 feet deep. As runner-up, it’s just as grand.

We're also making our way through the world's largest national park – Namib-Naukluft National Park – which will take three days.

Given the apparent absence of people – of life, period, frankly – it seems like it may also be the least-visited. A low fence has lined the entire route, but there hasn't appeared to be much to keep in, or out.

This has been middle-of-nowhere. Like, really middle-of-nowhere.

That has been part of the beauty of this trip thus far: watching the landscape dance between mountains and valleys, swirling from green, to red, to yellow, to brown, to grey; spying round tufts of scrub popping up like heads in the sand; and tracing the scars of desiccated streams. Even the water is too lively to linger long.

We are travelling over millennia of dust that twists and settles temporarily like an anxious nomad, muting the few plants to have the audacity to turn green. Rocks, sand, scrub. Repeat.

Even nowhere is somewhere, and in absence, beauty.