We had made plans with Chris and Courtney to spend several weeks together seeing their home in Lusaka, visiting different places in Zambia and Malawi and spending our last week together in Zanzibar. Seeing Chris and Courtney, their lives in Africa, and, for some reason, the initial greeting, which was set to take place in Livingstone, had been at the forefront of our minds as we planned our trip with them and as Brianne and I spent our first week in Cape Town. It’s really incredible that we now can fly around the world and meet up with someone as if it were just a short distance, but the distance between you is still felt and I think it was the disconnect that really made the perplexity of seeing them at a backpacker Hostel named Jollyboys really play over and over again in our minds.
As is the case with almost every situation that gets played over in your mind time and time again, it’s never quite as you imagined. First off, Chris and Courtney’s (un)faithful vehicle broke down just 100 kilometers into their 500+ kilometer journey from Lusaka. This vehicle has actually caused them quite a bit of grief since they arrived in Zambia. They bought it from Chris’ boss and it hasn’t really ever properly worked. What’s more, their Nissan Terrano II had spent countless weeks and dollars at the mechanic’s with exactly zero notable progress. I think Chris and Court felt some of that anticipation of actually being together in a new place half a world away from where our friendships have been forged and having their car eat it the day they were coming to meet us was not so great.
Still, they were able to find someone who would shuttle them to Livingstone and stay the weekend so he could shuttle the four of us back to Lusaka and at about 4p, four hours later than they had hoped to arrive, Chris and Courtney walked through the gates of Jollyboys Backpackers. And as things tend not to work in the way that you envisioned, Brianne was in the shower and I was typing furiously away trying to take advantage of the decent internet connection as Chris and Court walked through the gates. I think we all felt relieved to be together and excited about what the rest of the trip held in store for us: the adventures, the memories and just being together, experiencing a new place, adding more to our deep rooted friendships.
Mosi-oa-Tunya, also called Victoria Falls, was the reason we chose to meet in Livingstone. This is really the main reason many tourists come to Zambia and I think the reason many come to Africa at all. At 108 Meters tall and 1.7 kilometers wide, Mosi-oa-Tunya is the largest waterfall in the world. During the wet season, some 250,000 cubic feet per second of water flow over it’s edge, shooting mist hundreds of feet skyward so thick you can’t see more than 20 feet in front of you. Brianne and I waited to see the falls with Chris and Courtney, even though we were there 24 hours ahead of them. The best vantage was the knife’s edge, which is an edge of rock and dirt carved by past locations of the falls (I’ll explain more later). From the knife’s edge, the Zambezi river flowed over the edge at eye level and you could watch about a quarter of the 1.7 kilometer fall and the water plunge all 108 meters to the pools below.
We also made our way to the Devil’s Pool. I was first made aware of the existence of the Devil’s pool via Casey Neistat, who’s a filmmaker from New York City and who made a video about him and his kid swimming to the very edge of the world’s largest waterfall. We booked our trusty guide who promised we wouldn’t be swept to our deaths and headed for the falls. To get there, you need to traverse the top of the Zambezi just before it plunges into the Batoka Gorge to the point basically dead center in the river, Zimbabwe on the west side and Zambia on the east.
The pool sits just outside of the main current, but where water is still plummeting constantly over the edge, and it’s possible to sit in it because the pool is deep right up to the edge where there is a sort of wall that contains you in the pool, stopping you from going over the edge with the water. Sitting on the edge of the falls, besides dizzy, you feel the raw power of the water, you understand how this river had slowly but surely carved the Batoka Gorge below and you understand the raw power of rivers and erosion and geology - and it’s inspiring.
The next day, we decided to raft below the falls on the Zambezi River. We’d heard from some of Chris’ friends from Lusaka that the rafting here was top notch and not to be missed. It took a bit of convincing to get Brianne and Courtney to forget the crushing waves we had seen the day before on a hike down into the Batoka Gorge and to jump into a raft to try and go over/through those same waves, but in the end they were enthusiastic participants. There were 20 something rapids, about 10 of which were class V, which is a fairly enormous rapid.
The day started with lots of anticipation and even some anxiety. It took us 4 tries to get out of the giant eddie the rafts had been placed in and over the first large rapid, called the Boiling Pot. However, the anxiety soon turned into laughter, high fiving and shouting with enthusiasm as we crashed through one gigantic wave or hole or fall after the other. Our stoic guide Melvin took great care of us and we were the only raft not to flip the whole day (although I fell out and took a swim on what Melvin said was the worst possible rapid to have to swim). I’ll be honest, rafting in Colorado or Montana or any of the other places I’ve rafted isn’t usually about the kind of roller coaster thrill that I think many are after when they get into their rubber river chariot, however, the waves, holes, eddies, cliffs and pools of the Lower Zambezi provide more than a suitable serving of adrenaline inducing smashes and drops to perfectly compliment to surreal natural beauty of the Batoka Gorge.
The Batoka Gorge was a wonder in itself. The canyon has been carved, over millennia, by Mosi-oa-Tunya actually slowly migrating upstream. The walls of the canyon, which meander snakelike over it’s length, are actually former fall locations; each bend and cliff where the falls used to make their plunge downwards. There are some places in the canyon where the water is 200 meters deep, and places where, in high water, there are holes so large they can swallow entire rafts (rafting trips don’t happen during this time). It’s rivers are teeming with fish and it’s banks with crocodiles. By itself it would’ve been well worth a day in a boat just to see it.
After all our fun and adventure was over in Livingstone we jumped in the car with our driver, Denny, who had stayed in Livingstone waiting to take us on our return trip to Lusaka. We were full of life because we were all together in this new and exciting place and full of anticipation for what the rest of our time would hold.
As is the case with almost every situation that gets played over in your mind time and time again, it’s never quite as you imagined. First off, Chris and Courtney’s (un)faithful vehicle broke down just 100 kilometers into their 500+ kilometer journey from Lusaka. This vehicle has actually caused them quite a bit of grief since they arrived in Zambia. They bought it from Chris’ boss and it hasn’t really ever properly worked. What’s more, their Nissan Terrano II had spent countless weeks and dollars at the mechanic’s with exactly zero notable progress. I think Chris and Court felt some of that anticipation of actually being together in a new place half a world away from where our friendships have been forged and having their car eat it the day they were coming to meet us was not so great.
Still, they were able to find someone who would shuttle them to Livingstone and stay the weekend so he could shuttle the four of us back to Lusaka and at about 4p, four hours later than they had hoped to arrive, Chris and Courtney walked through the gates of Jollyboys Backpackers. And as things tend not to work in the way that you envisioned, Brianne was in the shower and I was typing furiously away trying to take advantage of the decent internet connection as Chris and Court walked through the gates. I think we all felt relieved to be together and excited about what the rest of the trip held in store for us: the adventures, the memories and just being together, experiencing a new place, adding more to our deep rooted friendships.
Mosi-oa-Tunya, also called Victoria Falls, was the reason we chose to meet in Livingstone. This is really the main reason many tourists come to Zambia and I think the reason many come to Africa at all. At 108 Meters tall and 1.7 kilometers wide, Mosi-oa-Tunya is the largest waterfall in the world. During the wet season, some 250,000 cubic feet per second of water flow over it’s edge, shooting mist hundreds of feet skyward so thick you can’t see more than 20 feet in front of you. Brianne and I waited to see the falls with Chris and Courtney, even though we were there 24 hours ahead of them. The best vantage was the knife’s edge, which is an edge of rock and dirt carved by past locations of the falls (I’ll explain more later). From the knife’s edge, the Zambezi river flowed over the edge at eye level and you could watch about a quarter of the 1.7 kilometer fall and the water plunge all 108 meters to the pools below.
We also made our way to the Devil’s Pool. I was first made aware of the existence of the Devil’s pool via Casey Neistat, who’s a filmmaker from New York City and who made a video about him and his kid swimming to the very edge of the world’s largest waterfall. We booked our trusty guide who promised we wouldn’t be swept to our deaths and headed for the falls. To get there, you need to traverse the top of the Zambezi just before it plunges into the Batoka Gorge to the point basically dead center in the river, Zimbabwe on the west side and Zambia on the east.
The pool sits just outside of the main current, but where water is still plummeting constantly over the edge, and it’s possible to sit in it because the pool is deep right up to the edge where there is a sort of wall that contains you in the pool, stopping you from going over the edge with the water. Sitting on the edge of the falls, besides dizzy, you feel the raw power of the water, you understand how this river had slowly but surely carved the Batoka Gorge below and you understand the raw power of rivers and erosion and geology - and it’s inspiring.
The next day, we decided to raft below the falls on the Zambezi River. We’d heard from some of Chris’ friends from Lusaka that the rafting here was top notch and not to be missed. It took a bit of convincing to get Brianne and Courtney to forget the crushing waves we had seen the day before on a hike down into the Batoka Gorge and to jump into a raft to try and go over/through those same waves, but in the end they were enthusiastic participants. There were 20 something rapids, about 10 of which were class V, which is a fairly enormous rapid.
The day started with lots of anticipation and even some anxiety. It took us 4 tries to get out of the giant eddie the rafts had been placed in and over the first large rapid, called the Boiling Pot. However, the anxiety soon turned into laughter, high fiving and shouting with enthusiasm as we crashed through one gigantic wave or hole or fall after the other. Our stoic guide Melvin took great care of us and we were the only raft not to flip the whole day (although I fell out and took a swim on what Melvin said was the worst possible rapid to have to swim). I’ll be honest, rafting in Colorado or Montana or any of the other places I’ve rafted isn’t usually about the kind of roller coaster thrill that I think many are after when they get into their rubber river chariot, however, the waves, holes, eddies, cliffs and pools of the Lower Zambezi provide more than a suitable serving of adrenaline inducing smashes and drops to perfectly compliment to surreal natural beauty of the Batoka Gorge.
The Batoka Gorge was a wonder in itself. The canyon has been carved, over millennia, by Mosi-oa-Tunya actually slowly migrating upstream. The walls of the canyon, which meander snakelike over it’s length, are actually former fall locations; each bend and cliff where the falls used to make their plunge downwards. There are some places in the canyon where the water is 200 meters deep, and places where, in high water, there are holes so large they can swallow entire rafts (rafting trips don’t happen during this time). It’s rivers are teeming with fish and it’s banks with crocodiles. By itself it would’ve been well worth a day in a boat just to see it.
After all our fun and adventure was over in Livingstone we jumped in the car with our driver, Denny, who had stayed in Livingstone waiting to take us on our return trip to Lusaka. We were full of life because we were all together in this new and exciting place and full of anticipation for what the rest of our time would hold.
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