Chipata to Victoria Falls… what a trek! One corner of Zambia to the other. We boarded the bus in Chipata before day break. And two days later we arrive in Vic Falls well after dark. Not a continuous trip, we did have a brief reprieve from bus seats, thanks to Albert’s aunt and uncle for hosting us at their farm on our night stopover outside of Lusaka. Admittedly we would have reached the hotel in Vic Falls much earlier if we had been delayed at the border crossing (we were staying on the Zimbabwean side of the falls). Albert (a Zambian) had under-estimated his power of persuasion as he did not actually have a passport… he had applied but not allowing enough time for processing before the trip. Over an hour later and an encounter with mischievous baboon that caused a bit of a ruckus in the immigration office, Albert had papers for a 24 hour stay. Not quite the 7 days we had planned but he was certain to get it worked out.
We stayed on the edge of a national park. The front of our chalet rolled up so we could watch the warthogs root around the grassy lawn with their warthog-let babies. Our kitchen door reminded us to keep it locked… to keep out the naughty baboons. Although no matter how long we sat outside staring into the forest beyond we never sighted any baboons or anything larger… perhaps that is a lucky thing? However, from the main lodge we did sip an occasional Zambezi beer while gazing out at the leggy impala and waterbuck, and the copious varieties of birds that all came to the watering hole. One afternoon Matthias decided he was going to go down to the water for a closer view. Obviously he had missed the electrified heavy duty barbed wire fence. But those people are down there. Those people, Matthias, are birds. Very very large birds.
Each morning Matthias treated us to fresh baked bread. God bless Italy. And at night we shared in the dinner responsibilities. One night spaghetti with homemade tomato sauce. One night a barbeque. One night a very random assortment of munchies after returning from a river cruise above the falls on the Zambezi river. We had taken full advantage of the free booze… making great friends with the bartenders and a small child whose mother was notably a bit anxious as Matthias swung her son over the railing to get a better view of the hungry-hungry hippos. The river cruise was a gift to Albert. It took him 2 days back in Zambia to work out his passport situation. Sensing he was a bit bummed we surprised him when he returned with the cruise.
And a day of jumping off cliffs... although strategically not the following day.
My nerves immediately gave way as my legs transformed to rubber, staring down from the cliffs to the river below. The harness cinched tightly around my waist and between my legs, making walking to the first thrill ride a significant challenge. A total of three different types of jumps for the day… three different leaps of death.
Defying death, Jump 1
The ‘flying fox’.
A running leap. Hands out. Superman style. The harness allowed us one by one to glide out across the gorge. A good beginner to the day. Why start with certain death?
Defying death, Jump 2
Zip Line
Sitting in my harness at the edge of a platform, legs dangling over the rocky gorge and river far below. 1-2-3… the cord was released and I zipped down and out. Heart pumping as I swung back and forth, suspend like a ticking pendulum of a clock, waiting for my rescue guy to heave me back to the safety of solid ground.
Defying death, Jump 3
Gorge Swing
In theory it didn’t seem like a big challenge. Freefalling head first into a gorge… how scary is that, right? No problemo. Once again I overestimated myself… and my false sense of fearlessness. I admit it. Bungee-esque. Free fall but instead of springing up and down, we swung out over the gorge. The cords attached around my waist were heavy and pulled me out to the ledge. On the video, I confess to being “really scared”. And then the supervisor pushed me. Holy shit (that’s the PG version). Diving into death, I prayed for angles.
While Albert was away. Verena, Matthias, and I went white water rafting. Climbing down into the steep, rocky gorge with paddle in hand we joined our rafting ‘crew’, a hodgepodge of intrepid backpackers. Evidently in Africa instructions and safety details are not entirely necessary… a quickie 5 minute overview must meet the legal standard. Although I think our Guatemalan comrade could have used a bit more of a briefing. Just the basics… like everyone is supposed to paddle (he did very little) and posing for photo opts when going through the rapids may cause the boat to flip (which it did…three times). The rapids were pretty wild class 5’ers. On the more mild class 3 rapids, our guide allowed us to swim through. Into the white water. I held on to my lifejacket as I am swept into with a dynamic drop into a whirlpool… there is no going back. My body feels like it hit a wall. Thanks to the power of adrenaline I heave myself into the raft. Happy to have survived I test fate again. And again. I swam through more rapids than I actually stayed in the boat for… not by choice.
And at the end, absolutely exhausted from a swim against the current (it was a fun idea in theory), we climb for an hour out of the gorge. Collapsing at the top. Literally.
Victoria Falls. A spectacular natural wonder. Viewing from the Zimbabwean side we took in the thundering cascades. The rising mist so great it soaks our clothes even under the penetrating sun. It keeps the cliffs green and lush. One can walk right to the edge. No railing. No warning sign. Safety first is apparently an absent theme. Rainbows scatter across the rock river base far below. We sit on the warm black rocks, dangling our feet over the edge, attempting to soak in the enormity of the water surging over and through the gorge with such power. It is thrilling. It is beautiful.
Our last dinner together, we don proper African attire. My new chitenge traditional Zambian-style outfit was a surprise gift from Verena, Matthias, and Albert. They had it made in the market… showing a woman my photo and it fit perfectly! Dinner was a feast of African food. Appetizers of impala meat. Goat screwed and roasted above an open fire. Curries of warthog. Chewy worms. And chocolate cake. A fortune teller sat in a tip-pee under dangles of garland. A man with a palate went around the tables to paint faces… not so traditional but rather with things like giraffes and flowers. There were various Zimbabwean dancers dressed in animal skins that moved their legs faster than I ever thought to be humanly possible. The night wrapped up as everyone remaining in the open air venue received a painted African drum for a group drumming session. We followed the rhythm… or at least gave it our best effort. Joining in with the dancing as others kept the beat going strong. Touristy sure. But a fun night to bid farewell to friends.
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