The Mighty Zambezi Earns Our Respect
Trip Start
Sep 09, 2006
1
9
10
Trip End
Nov 24, 2006
Livingstone,
Zambia
Monday, October 23, 2006
The Zambezi Gorge is a series of deep lacerations in the earth; the spillage of the Zambezi over one of them forms Victoria Falls. Six of us from our truck began our raft trip with a long descent by foot down to a pool between two rapids just downriver from the falls where we could develop a bit of paddling discipline and safety procedures. Thence began our trial by water through the 23 rapids we would attempt to navigate, eight of them class 4 or 5, putting them in the Holy Shit range. I say "attempt" because a raft of our sort requires strong coordinated paddling for the guide at the rear to maintain any semblance of control, and with our paddling skills, it is almost certain that we'd flip over at least once.
Most of the 15 miles we covered allowed us to take in the truly majestic beauty of the gorge's towering sheer walls, ranging from shades of rust at the rim down to huge ochre boulders polished by the river's annual rise. Trees with bright green of new growth cling perilously, their exposed roots snaking along the rock face.
This tranquil natural beauty is punctuated by the rapids which offer three forms of excitement: a bucking ride in the raft, a "short swim" or a "long swim". The latter two are euphemisms introduced to us by our guide. A short swim occurs when you are tossed from the boat and are either able to hang on to the safety line or can be swiftly hauled aboard. If you get beyond reach you are in for the long swim. Twice for me, and once for Dana, the long swim consisted of being sucked underwater and having the river have its way with you. Disoriented and unable to do anything to better your situation, you hold whatever breath you managed to get when you got dumped and wonder when and if the buoyancy of your life-vest will carry you to the surface. It takes not very many seconds before you know that your urge to breathe is approaching the point where it will become involuntary and you will soon take in the lungful of water that will mark the beginning of your desperate struggle for life. Then, remarkably, the river spits you to the surface where you gasp for air as you take in your situation and get your feet pointed downstream so your feet rather than your head can deal with any rocks in your path. Eventually, one of the safety kayaks or rafts in the flotilla fishes you out and you reflect on the fragility of your life. As likely as not, your reflection is interrupted by the command to paddle, as the next rapid is approaching.
At day's end, the sky clouded and we had to contend with a strong headwind that was amplified by the gorge's venturi effect. Already quite tired, strong paddling was required to get us to our pullout point. We had been told that there was a cable car to lift us out of the gorge, but none was in sight. Following others ahead of us, we scrambled up the steep trail with our gear. Some assistance was provided by a crude, partially intact series of ladders fashioned from tree branches. At last, we sighted the small rail car that would be hauled by cable up to the rim of the gorge. We boarded and it began its slow rise, its slope increasing as we climbed. Uncertain about the mechanism driving the thing and seeing no evidence of any braking mechanism, I moved my paddle to the center to make it easier to leap from the contraption.
Within a half hour of arriving back at our campground, we were invited to watch the hastily assembled video of our trip. The perspective from camera made the tossing about of the rafts in the roiling rapids look far more fearsome than seeing their approach on the river. I think that we will confine any future rafting to somewhat tamer waters.
Dana took in a further bit of adrenaline sport: a ride on an ultralight plane over Victoria Falls. She reports that it was thrilling, beautiful and gave her a better understanding of the falls' geology and geography. All that in 15 minutes. Not bad.
Livingstone, named for the eminent missionary and explorer, is a moderately busy town, its relative prosperity fed by tourist trade generated by the nearby falls which count among the seven wonders of the natural world. People encountered ambling about town are helpful and friendly. I gather that it is the market and official town for the region, enriching the surrounding villages by providing tourist related jobs with wages and good tips. There is no evidence of the shantytowns that form when people are pushed or drawn from villages to the city. My guess is that the ambitious seek opportunity in town. Should they not find it, they return to village life. The town's infrastructure is rough and the streets are untidy, but it is pleasant enough to sit under a tree in front of a snack bar on the broad main drag, the closest thing to a sidewalk cafe This is the first town we have visited that feels African, i.e. virtually everyone is black and I do not detect the vestiges of colonialism and/or apartheid. I hope this is part of a trend.
Tomorrow we will rise early to begin the first of two consecutive days of 10 hour drives over increasingly poor roads; our destination South Luangwa National Park, the main reason we signed on for this leg of the trip. We will be getting to know five new passengers and we welcome the new faces as we are sorry to see those we have shared the first part of our journey head home or on to further travels.
