For a moment I wonder if the hours of driving have addled my brain. Or maybe it's a mirage. It's over 40C (104F) and we are in the middle of Namibia's vast desert plains, where I'm told strange things happen.

No, they're still there, gazing back at me. A small herd of cows taking welcome shade from the scorching morning sun under the wide branches of an acacia tree.

Lovely though they are, all big brown eyes and long eyelashes, it's what they're sitting on that has caught my eye - a soft bed of grass and bright yellow wild flowers.

The scene looks alpine, but I realise I'm still in Africa when a little boy appears, offers a shy smile and waves to us before going to round up his charges and take them to another field.

On Namibia's Skeleton Coast

On a mission to cross Africa on foot, Fran Sandham chose Namibia's Skeleton Coast, graveyard of explorers

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• On Namibia's Skeleton Coast

I've come to Namibia to look at the awesome landscapes and see some of the wildlife. This isn't a basic trip - we're staying at lovely bush camps along the way - but extreme wilderness conditions have been promised. And warnings about the life-threatening dangers of running out of water and fuel were listened to intently before leaving the capital, Windhoek.

The last thing I expected to find between the towering sea of red sand dunes at Sossusvlei and the lions of Etosha National Park was a carpet of blooming desert flowers.

My ever-helpful guide John comes to the rescue. “You don't know how lucky you are,” he explains in a strong Afrikaans accent. “A week ago those flowers weren't here - in another couple of weeks they'll be gone. They only appear after we've had rain, and in this part of the world that isn't very often. It could be another five or ten years before they bloom again. Enjoy them while you can.”

Farther on, a splash of pink appears in the distance, like a luminous beacon in a sea of pale green grass. Lying on the sand, the head of a lily seems to be too big for the narrow stalk to hold. It burst into life with a recent shower and now it lies here, soaking up the sun.

Visit this corner of Namibia at the right time and you can feast your eyes on swaths of yellow daisies and delicate pink and white blooms. It's yet another facet of this intriguing landscape that draws you in with its mighty views, then casts a spell with the fine detail. Like this beautiful lily.

I thought I'd seen it all yesterday when we crossed the gravel plains east of the Skeleton Coast after quad-biking in the dunes at Swakopmund. We stopped to stare at the strange oddity that is the Welwitschia plant. It looks more like a prop from a science-fiction movie than a natural wonder, with a tangle of raggedy leaves, stripped by the wind and chewed on by passing oryx.

The ground-hugging tree could easily be mistaken for a giant wilted cabbage but it's actually a type of conifer. Amazingly, this living fossil lives to the ripe old age of 2,000 by soaking up the moisture from the condensed fog that billows across this part of the desert.

“They grow incredibly slowly and only flower once every 20 years. You'll have to come back to see that,” John says. “These ones here are about 700 years old, and over there, that tiny one with leaves just one-inch long, it's only 40.”

Camelthorn acacias were my first introduction to the flora of Namibia. The national tree is covered in seeds, which elephants love to eat, and a tree stripped bare is a good sign that jumbos have recently passed by.

Before long I'm transfixed by the ever-changing shades of the golden, grassy savannahs, dwarf plants eking out an existence along the misty coastline and the multitude of uses these plants offer local tribes.

Before a hearty dinner at Palmwag Lodge, John and I have a sundowner as the sky over the flat-topped mountains in the distance shimmers and fades. He tells me how the Herero people take honey from the fat trunk of the baobab tree to make beer. Himba tribesmen chew the leaves of mopane trees in traditional ceremonies, and use the twigs as toothbrushes.

In all, there are 200 endemic plant species in Namibia and more than 100 kinds of incredibly fragile lichen, which can take 50 years to grow again if disturbed. And in a climate with temperatures as high as 65C, that's nothing short of a miracle.

When we reach Doro Nawas camp in Damaraland and head out for a late-afternoon game drive, I get a chance to see how good the acacia trees are as camouflage.

Driving along the dried-out Aba-Huab riverbed, we come to an abrupt halt when John's trained eye spots something in the bushes. There is no sound, but it takes just the slightest change in light for the outline of a kudu to appear, hidden among the foliage. Its long, carved horns look exactly like the branches.

Apart from a hornbill and a pair of noisy lovebirds chattering in the trees, the wildlife count is low this afternoon. Just as we pull up in front of a sweeping view overlooking golden plains the sun dips behind the hills. And a herd of 20 oryx wander into view, as if on cue. Another taste of Namibia's dreamy mirage-like scenery.

Need to know

Bales Worldwide (0845 0571819, www.balesworldwide.com) has an eight-day holiday to Namibia from £1,745pp, including a night in Windhoek, two nights at Palmwag Lodge, two nights in Doro Nawas, and one night in Swakopmund. The price includes return flights, car hire, B&B and some evening meals.

Further information: Namibia Tourism (0870 3309333, www.namibiatourism.com.na).

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