Mosi-o-Tunya

We spent Christmas day slowly packing with a Hallmark Christmas marathon in background. At 5:00 P.M. we boarded the Intercape Mainliner Bus (they let us back on) and embarked for a 20-hour ride to Livingstone, Zambia. We slept in odd positions, baking like pretzels, and freezing like our leftover Christmas morning egg casserole. In morning light, the modern towns had transformed to villages off the highway with huts of stick and grass, and children lying in the dirt under trees to escape the humid heat of north Namibia. We spent 6 days in Livingstone, Zambia, and 2 days in Botswana.

Livingstone, Zambia is situated 10 km from the famous Victoria Falls. Described as Mosi-o-Tunya (The Smoke That Thunders) and renamed by European David Livingstone for his queen, the spill stretches 1 mile in width and drops 330 feet into a cataract, spitting the torrent down a narrow chute for tourists to practice falling out of rafts. The river is the Zambezi, 4th largest Africa.

Maybe Earnest Hemingway had words to describe the beauty of this place, but we do not. The misty cataract of slick black rock and jungle lushness on the island plateaus are like nothing we've seen or imagined. Viewed from the edge, as in the picture below, the channel looks like a secret entrance to a forgotten time. Rainbows swirl in the mist at every turn, even at night, where they are known to emerge like ghostly apparitions. We were giddy to experience the wonder from every angle.

Our first day, we hiked around the paths above, across, and below the falls on the Zambia side. Raincoats are offered, but it was as hot and humid as summer in Chicago, so we passed. The path across from the falls brings you eye level with the upper Zambezi, allowing a view of the tumble to the cataract below. The mist from the falls rides up the opposite wall of the cataract towards the sky, cooling the path on which we stood that hugs the chasm. From one viewpoint on the path, it looked like people were jumping into a pool above the falls. Man you sure had to be stupid to do that.

Our unofficial guide to that swimming pool was a local named Jeremiah. We tiptoed along Jerimiah’s hidden underwater pathway to the spot with 4 siblings from Argentina, holding hands much of the way as instructed. We stopped at multiple stone outcrops to peer into the cataract from the now opposite side. We lucked out, the last week of December normally marking the annual shift to high water, when the Zambezi begins its rise some 15 feet higher, stopping such tours. The swimming hole was amazing. A mini waterfall spilled into a mini amphitheatre creating a pool with a noticeable current to the edge of the real drop. We lingered for about 20 minutes, jumping from 15 foot outcrops, sitting under the mini falls, smiling, and shaking our heads at each other in silent disbelief.

(the edge of the pool)

(looking back at the pool/falls from the opposite side)

This massive river acts as the boundary between the country of Zambia and Zimbabwe, and only about a quarter of the falls can be seen from the Zambia side. A separate Visa is required to cross to Zimbabwe, and they start to get expensive. Maybe if we find a big kite, attach a motor with a propeller to it, and pay double the cost of the Visa, we could fly above the falls.

We boarded these kites on Tuesday the 29th. Though the kites had licensed pilots, they were like floating motorcycles, nothing between you and pavement, except in this case, thousands of feet. One would shake their head in silent disbelief at the view if one was certain the movement wouldn’t send the fickle vessel into a tailspin to the crocodiles and hippos below (which were visible from the view, in addition to elephants crossing the river for breakfast). The true scope of the breadth of the falls became apparent, and the energy of the water below literally dabs your face as you fly through the screaming skyward mist at a height taller than the Willis Tower. The view downstream provides a snapshot of the whitewater rafting route that took us an entire day. During the flight back upstream, congregation of fat hippos under the water were easily spotted, as well as crocodiles sunning, and elephants striding in slow motion.

(Krysta in flight)

Raised in capitalism, we seek out deals. Many of the outfitters offer package deals that present additional alternatives to see the Zambezi. Two such add ons included the Sunset Cruise and the Sunset Safari. The street name for the Sunset Cruise is the Booze Crooze. Picture a boat overloaded with horny springbreakers in Cancun, turn them into Australians and South Africans, and there you have it. It made us feel old, but we were isolated to the American section of the boat with some great Peace Corps people. All we had to do was yell “Crocodile” to clear the bar so we could get our money’s worth. The clouds obscured a sunset, but nobody would have noticed anyhow.

The Sunset Safari was outstanding. We putted along the islands upstream of the falls with just five other people and our guide named Gift. We came so close to crocodiles, we could have tickled their cute little armpits. A bird enthusiast would have died and gone to Africa with the constant floating of the flocks, gaggles, murders, and sieges. We were treated to a partial sunset through the clearing cloudy horizon, the soft glow outlining dinosaur islands awaiting the landing of thousands of birds.