Rafting Death River

There is a little hike that takes you from the entrance of the Victoria Falls National Park to the rivers edge of the lower Zambezi called the Boiling Pot. On our first visit to the park, the day after our bus arrived, we hiked here to watch a rafting group begin a seven day voyage down the Zambezi, starting on the Zimbabwe side. The rapid at this point, on this day, looked intense, but harmless enough after watching a kayaker topple through it multiple times. The kayaker came over to talk to us. He asked us if we were going to raft, and if so suggested we come to Zimbabwe to do so.

“From Zambia, rafts hit this rapid, flip, and sometimes people walk back up the path you came from without rafting any more the whole time” he said to Luke slightly out of earshot to Krysta.

In Luke’s head . . . “What is this guy talking about, is it not the same river? Let’s go rafting tomorrow. I like to eat food.”

So we signed up for a full day trip on the Zambia side consisting of 25 rapids, many class 5, others class 4, sprinkled with 3’s. We were picked up and taken to our instructive breakfast under a large grassy hut, where we were told how to survive all of the precarious activities of the day, the instructor (our guide for the day named Babyface) speaking below a huge picture of a raft capsizing. On the ride to the launch site, Krysta asked the driver how many people had died over the years, whether there were crocodiles in the water, and other similar such questions intended to ease our minds.

“Not many have died” he said.

“Only baby crocks, but they are vegetarian” he said.

Babyface had seniority, running the rapids for 10 years, so we were the last of the 5 boats to launch. On our boat was a couple from Hungary, a German named Andre, us, Babyface, and another Zambian who worked with the rafting company. While practicing our strokes, we didn’t see anyone fall in from the rafts in front of us. We sat on the right hand side of the boat, Luke at the very front, Krysta the middle paddler. “Forward Please” yelled the polite Babyface. Ten seconds later, upon hitting the first of the string of 5 undulating rapids, Krysta, Luke, and the Hungarian Timor, were under water . . . forever.

Unlike the Zimbabwe side, where the rafting begins above and in line with the string of rapids, the Zambia rafts must gain momentum, come at the churning wall perpendicular, and try to push through. This string aims at a mound of boulders and the canyon wall, the mound known to capsize full rafts of tourists if the aim is poor or the paddling is weak.

In the video we watched later, Krysta, Luke, and Timor flailed in that string of rapids into the wall, popping up from the whitewater only just before impact. Krysta was pushed downstream, while Luke and the Hungarian were circled backward upstream. Krysta was rescued downstream by the awaiting Babyface. Luke was picked up by a kayaker and instructed to jump off the rocks just downstream of where the rapids hit the wall, and reloaded as well. Only 24 to go.

The first half of the day hits the most intense rapids, numbers 1 through 10. The pictures do some pretty good justice. It was a blur, but a couple images stick out.

1. The fear in Andre’s eyes every time the big German popped up from the water.
2. The anger behind Krysta’s eyes (looking at Luke) after the first rapid.
3. The fear behind Luke’s eyes (looking at Krysta) after the first rapid.
4. The smile behind Babyface’s eyes watching these muzungu’s fall into river.

One other rapid deserves a paragraph, and that is rapid 8. Babyface explained to us that we had a choice.

“Go to the right, and you will likely not flip, go to the center and it is 50/50, go to the left and you will likely flip.”

A lull in the boat. No one wants to be the instigator.

“I’m all for not flipping . . . to the right?” said Krysta

“Center, its o.k. I think” said Andre

“How about right center” said Krysta, which Babyface took as humor, because center it was.

The series of photos will show you what happened. The boat disappeared into a hole that felt 15 feet deep, completely surrounding us with whitewater, and then it was like Homer jumping Springfield Gorge. We’re going to make it! We’re going to make it! This is the most exhilarating feeling of our lives! Hey look, one of those kite things. Where are my feet going? Why am I falling? Darkness and disorientation, flipping, and spinning . . . under the boat now upside down. There is an air pocket just like Babyface said.

“We must flip the boat back and all get back in very quickly” yelled Babyface from on top of the boat. The class 6 rapid was just downriver. During the flip, Krysta lost hold of the safety rope and began to float toward the class 6. Her face looked like Andre’s popping from the water. She was rescued by a kayaker with time to spare and survived.

The second half of the day was tame in comparison to the morning, but still some nice 10 foot holes. There were nice long calm stretches used for staring up the black cliffs topped with green jungles. Locals were spotted in desolate stretches at the river’s edge, reeling for Tiger Fish. At one point, most of the boat jumped out, climbed a 20-foot outcrop to practice flying on our own terms. We found out later that non-vegetarian crocodiles swim along the entire route.

It was truly one of the most exhilarating experience of our lives, and on the ride back down the dusty backroads, beer in hand, passing the straw hut Village of Babyface’s youth, we soaked in the dipping sun in our dripping clothes.