The Zambezi River originates in northeast Zambia and travels over 2,500 kilometers - through Zambia and Angola, along the border of Namibia and Botswana and into Zimbabwe and Mozambique where it empties itself into the Indian Ocean. We rafted 25 rapids today down the Zambezi and I’m exhausted.
We descended into the basin of the gorge in the early morning and found ourselves at the base of Victoria Falls (an area only accessible this time of year when the water is low). Our guide - Potato - led us on a short climb over slippery rocks covered in algae. It was hot outside and the water was cold. We soon reached a pool directly under Victoria Falls. We swam in the water and looked up at the monstrosity falling towards us. Sheer cliff-fall and water with nowhere to go but down. In the wet season, the falls stretch a mile long. Two hippos were recently fighting on the upper bank of the Zambezi and one toppled over the side. Potato showed us where the hippo finally washed up on shore. Local villagers climbed into the gorge and camped there for days in order to eat the hippo meat.
After splashing around in the pools it was time to start rafting. I’ve never been white water rafting and was nervous. In addition to Tom and me, our boat included our guide Potato, plus two British couples celebrating one of the wives 50th birthdays. Potato gave us a rapid safety briefing and we were on our way. The rapids were levels 2-5 and varied in degree of technical skill, sheer size, and structure - the combination of variables making each rapid unique.
The river is flanked on both sides by jagged shards of black volcanic rock. I assumed the stones along the river would be smoothed over by centuries of erosion but the rocks are basalt which is fragile and fractures into sharp pieces when pummeled by the water’s powerful flow. The rocks looked like lego pieces stacked poorly by a child into rickety towers ready to topple anytime. It was beautiful and enhanced the sinister aura I already felt from the rapids.
We descended into the basin of the gorge in the early morning and found ourselves at the base of Victoria Falls (an area only accessible this time of year when the water is low). Our guide - Potato - led us on a short climb over slippery rocks covered in algae. It was hot outside and the water was cold. We soon reached a pool directly under Victoria Falls. We swam in the water and looked up at the monstrosity falling towards us. Sheer cliff-fall and water with nowhere to go but down. In the wet season, the falls stretch a mile long. Two hippos were recently fighting on the upper bank of the Zambezi and one toppled over the side. Potato showed us where the hippo finally washed up on shore. Local villagers climbed into the gorge and camped there for days in order to eat the hippo meat.
After splashing around in the pools it was time to start rafting. I’ve never been white water rafting and was nervous. In addition to Tom and me, our boat included our guide Potato, plus two British couples celebrating one of the wives 50th birthdays. Potato gave us a rapid safety briefing and we were on our way. The rapids were levels 2-5 and varied in degree of technical skill, sheer size, and structure - the combination of variables making each rapid unique.
The river is flanked on both sides by jagged shards of black volcanic rock. I assumed the stones along the river would be smoothed over by centuries of erosion but the rocks are basalt which is fragile and fractures into sharp pieces when pummeled by the water’s powerful flow. The rocks looked like lego pieces stacked poorly by a child into rickety towers ready to topple anytime. It was beautiful and enhanced the sinister aura I already felt from the rapids.
Potato’s real name is Potato. The region he’s from in Northeast Zambia often names children for objects. Crankshaft, Table, Nokia, Satellite. Potato was born in a potato farm 300 kilometers from the nearest hospital. He’s been a rafting guide for 16 years. He said it takes the guides 3 years after passing their rafting exam to complete the entire 1-25 rapids series. On his first ride as a guide he was co-leading with another guide who was thrown from the raft on the first rapid and was held underwater by the current for 2 minutes. He wasn't breathing when he surfaced and was helicoptered out. Potato took the guests through the rest of the rapids but capsized four times in the first ten rapids. Potato’s been helicoptered out of rapid 7 after capsizing and getting sucked into the whirlpool, holding him under water for too long. Luckily he didn't tell us this until our day had already come to a close and we had successfully completed all 25 rapids.
For the most part, the rapids weren’t actually really scary. But the preparation for each level 5 rapid made my pulse do double. Potato would go around our raft making sure everyone’s life jackets were tight - that was the first indication we were coming up to a big rapid. One of the women would audibly groan every time he started tightening our jackets. Then he’d review the safety protocol for that specific rapid. The directions would sound something like: “There’s a big rock on the right, and a whirlpool in the center, so we’re dropping in on the left. If you get thrown off of the boat, hold on to the side or swim hard and fast to the left. If you get stuck in the whirlpool, it’ll hold you under for 45 seconds and then spit you out at the bottom. Just don’t panic.”
For the most part, the rapids weren’t actually really scary. But the preparation for each level 5 rapid made my pulse do double. Potato would go around our raft making sure everyone’s life jackets were tight - that was the first indication we were coming up to a big rapid. One of the women would audibly groan every time he started tightening our jackets. Then he’d review the safety protocol for that specific rapid. The directions would sound something like: “There’s a big rock on the right, and a whirlpool in the center, so we’re dropping in on the left. If you get thrown off of the boat, hold on to the side or swim hard and fast to the left. If you get stuck in the whirlpool, it’ll hold you under for 45 seconds and then spit you out at the bottom. Just don’t panic.”
The names of the rapids are eye-rolling: the devil’s toilet bowl, commercial suicide, the gnashing jaws of death, creamy white buttocks, terminator, deep throat, oblivion. Oblivion was rapid 18 and was Potato’s favorite. He gave us a 95% chance of falling out because of the angle of the three consecutive waves in that rapid. But he comfortingly informed us that there were no rocks nor whirlpools so falling out only seemed fun not scary. We made it through wave one, two, and then hit wave three. The boat went flying, we couldn’t see anything and I was 100% sure that we had capsized and I, along with everyone else was out of the boat. I was even trying to swim. But when the wave settled, four out of six of us were still in the boat. Unfortunately, Potato was not one of them. We grabbed him and the other guy back into the boat and celebrated to our victory. The following boat had two people fall out, and the one after capsized and everyone floated down. When the rapids were small enough and there were no rocks we were allowed to float down out of the boat. They felt huge when you were outside the raft - I had no control over the current and just floated along, letting it pull me whichever direction it decided. (Oh also, Tom fell out at rapid 9, once we had already completed the rapid and were just coming into the clear and celebrating. Never get too comfortable.)
We finally reached the end of rapid 25, feeling victorious, exhausted and thankful for Potato’s deft paddling skills. We pulled into a small river beach - some of the only sand we’d seen the whole ride. There were a handful of children from the nearby village playing in the sand - covering themselves white, building a fire and wrestling. It was time to climb out of the gorge. Potato said the fastest record of ascending the gorge was seven minutes - the slowest was an hour and a half. Tom decided to attempt to beat the record. I think this is one of the many reactions of sitting in a car for too many days in a row. Tom ran off towards the trail… only the trail wasn’t “well defined” and before we knew it Tom was running straight into the Zambian wild. Two of the village boys realized Tom had missed the path and started shouting after him. A porter ran up the empty riverbed that Tom had started running up. Finally Tom realized he wasn’t on a trail when he was climbing cliffside and came back down. The Brits and I were already a third of the way up the real trail when Tom caught up to us. Needless to say he didn’t break any records.
We finally reached the end of rapid 25, feeling victorious, exhausted and thankful for Potato’s deft paddling skills. We pulled into a small river beach - some of the only sand we’d seen the whole ride. There were a handful of children from the nearby village playing in the sand - covering themselves white, building a fire and wrestling. It was time to climb out of the gorge. Potato said the fastest record of ascending the gorge was seven minutes - the slowest was an hour and a half. Tom decided to attempt to beat the record. I think this is one of the many reactions of sitting in a car for too many days in a row. Tom ran off towards the trail… only the trail wasn’t “well defined” and before we knew it Tom was running straight into the Zambian wild. Two of the village boys realized Tom had missed the path and started shouting after him. A porter ran up the empty riverbed that Tom had started running up. Finally Tom realized he wasn’t on a trail when he was climbing cliffside and came back down. The Brits and I were already a third of the way up the real trail when Tom caught up to us. Needless to say he didn’t break any records.
