Heart of Dampness

TRAVERSING VICTORIA FALLAS – ABOVE & BELOW

The rain intensifies as I cross the narrow hanging bridge. And by “rain,” I don’t mean your ordinary everyday drizzle, nor heavy rain, or even torrential rain. I mean someone-just-emptied-an-Olympic-sized-pool-over-your-head type of rain. The waterproof cap I’m wrapped in is useless. I am thoroughly drenched. Looking to my right, bright blue skies host a beautiful full-circle rainbow just 10 meters away. On my left, peeking between the massive drops, a gigantic water curtain – 1.7km wide, drops into the abyss in a deep resounding crescendo. Welcome to Victoria Falls.

I know what play on words you’re thinking, and the answer is No. Victoria doesn’t really fall. The British monarch has been peacefully dead for more than 120 years. She’d recently welcomed her great, great-granddaughter Elizabeth to the big royal family in the skies. The waterfall that bears her name, by some accounts, the largest waterfall in the world, still runs deep in the recesses of the grand Zambezi River.

Somewhere high above the clouds

It all started in 2013, some 3,800m high on the slopes of the mighty Kilimanjaro. We were sitting, freezing in the dim-lit dining room of the Horombo climbing camp. Sipping on mildly warm soup, we were conducting a lively chat with our fellow freezing climbers. One of them, a UK-born traveler and a blogger (I believe this is his website, but I’m not entirely certain after so many years) had recommended us to go and visit the elusive falls and the safari reserves around it. “This is Africa’s best-kept secret,” I remember him saying. There and then, I decided to add it to my bucket list.

If you have been following my blog so far, you would know I’m not the person to put bucket-list items aside. Check-marking this one, however, proved more challenging than I initially thought. For starters Zimbabwe, one of the two African nations bordering the falls, was in political turmoil and financial collapse. Suffering under the oppressive yoke of President Mugabe, the country was effectively closed off. Then came Corona. Then everything came to a halt.

Dr. Livingstone, I presume?

I almost forgot about the whole thing when a good friend had the same idea for his own list. Turning 60, he decided the time was right to organize a team of friends and go check out the place. It took me about 1.6936 sec to say, “I’m in!”

The locals call it Mosi-oa-Tunya, meaning “smoke that thunders,” which accurately defines the power of the falls crashing into the canyon floor. For the rest of us, this gigantic seven natural wonders of the world lister is better known as Victoria Falls. David Livingston, the famous Scottish explorer (the same one from “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”), discovered the falls in 1855 and named them after the reigning queen of the British Empire. While strong on bravery, the dude apparently wasn’t as strong on creativity.

Back in the 21st century

Jumping some two centuries forward, the falls are neither the highest nor the widest in the world. Nevertheless, they are the largest, based on their combined width of 1,708 meters and height of 108 meters. The result is the world’s largest sheet of falling water. Without a measuring tape to verify the figures, all I can say is that the falls are MASSIVE (or “YUGE” if you happen to fancy Trump impersonations).

Another unique feature of Victoria Falls is the narrow deep creek they crash into. Without going into complex geological explanations, the whole 1.7km wide river drains into a narrow 100 meters-wide canyon. The water then cut their way via numerous serpentines before continuing on to the Indian Ocean.

But to witness the incredible spectacle, one must first get there – not a simple endeavor at all. There would be those who would say that getting to the far-flung recesses of Southern Africa is part of the fun, that is, if your idea of fun is flying there with Ethiopian.

Traveling, Ethiopean-style

Yes, I know they are considered the best African airline and have a large fleet of brand new 787 Dreamliners. It’s just that they somehow manage to make the brand-new cabin look and feel like an old African “chicken bus.” The grumpy stewardess who abruptly woke me at 1 am to serve dinner just gave the experience that extra little callous push it needed. Landing at 5 in the morning after a sleepless night, we discovered the connecting terminal in Addis wasn’t any better. New on the outside, dilapidated on the inside. Tired, shoeless commuters filled the seats and couches, their bare feet hanging high. Welcome to Sub-Saharan Africa.

Following a short and uneventful connecting flight, we finally landed at the tiny but surprisingly neat Victoria Falls International Airport on the Zimbabwean side. A van and chauffeur whisks us away to the aptly named Victoria Falls Hotel.

The grand palace is a 1904 relic that froze in time somewhere between the first and second world wars. But for what it lacks in modernity, it more than compensates with rich history and an unbeatable location. Those Brits did know their real estate all right. The hotel is superbly located in front of the falls and in direct view of the Victoria Falls Bridge. A beautiful metal structure of Eiffel-Esque qualities, constructed in the same year and serves today as the border crossing between Zimbabwe and Zambia. Walking the halls of the grand estate is like stepping into a time machine of “Pomp and Circumstance.” An area still ruled by the mighty British Empire, where places like Rhodesia, Bechuanaland, and Southwest Africa never faded away.

Afternoon tea break, what else?

Seeping English Breakfast tea served with scones in a fine Porcelain set on the grand porch overlooking the Zambezi Gorge, I am reminded of another British bastion of days since long gone – The Hong Kong Peninsula Hotel.

Still, this is Africa, not Asia, and we’re here not to seep tea but to watch water falling down with a rumble. We pay the small bill (relative to the Hong Kong Peninsula, that is) and go for a Zambezi Sunset Cruise. The cruise is one of those “Checklist” must-do. But excluding the decent Gin & Tonic, the relaxed ordeal is quite forgettable.
Tomorrow would be a whole different day.

The big day

We wake up early in the morning and report at 8 o’clock sharp at the Flight Of Angels’ helipad near the Elephant Hills Resort. Two team members have “chickened out.” The rest of us brave the 15min flight over the grand Zambezi River and the great chasm at its heart. We are very happy we did.

Apart from the well-maintained Bell 206 Jet Rangers and the impeccable local pilots, it is the view outside of the big Perspex windows that leaves you breathless. Experiencing the full magnitude of the mammoth cataract isn’t possible from the ground. It’s simply too big. You must go upwards to fully appreciate the immense scale – and immense it is!

Running circles in the sky

I snap one frame after the other as the helicopter swings above the falls. Arriving just after the rainy season, the Zambezi River is in full flow, sending over 6 million liters of water over the edge every single second (That’s about 200 times London’s water consumption. I have no idea who came up with this statistic). This is the most powerful natural phenomenon this side of the globe. Second only to the Iguacu Falls in South America. Clearly visible from the chopper is Victoria Falls other unique features – the narrow, deep fissure that collects the colossal volume of water, and the tall vapor cloud they create. It’s as if someone had cut a deep, narrow slit in the ground – like a hot knife to butter, leaving only a narrow, 100-meter-wide gap in the opposite rock wall for the immense volume of water to escape onwards.

Landing somewhat breathless, we head straight to the Victoria Falls National Park on the Zimbabwean side. Because of its unique geological setting, Victoria Falls can be viewed not just from aside but also (and mostly) from straight on. We are all given heavy waterproof blue caps to protect us from the vapor cloud raining down. Victoria Falls are so big they create their own weather. The permanent dampness sustains a narrow strip of rainforest that is wet almost year-round. We start at the western side, observing about one-half of the horseshoe-shaped cataract as it crashes down in a tremendous roar. The view from this angle is hypnotizing and, as we will soon find out, provide a rare dry vantage point of the torrent in action.

Heading up and close to Victoria

Moving on eastward, we take the path that puts us head-on in front of the western part of the cascading waters. Light drops begin to fall down, but overall the skies are blue and sunny. I cannot recall at what point we began to feel the dampness creeping up on us and decided to wear our rubber tops. By the time we reach the chasm and the end of the Zimbabwean side, the rain is falling hard on our caps, and the falls only occasionally peek through the heavy mist. I have to wait about a minute for the wind to clear some of the torrent coming down on me to snap a quick photo before the rain returns to mist everything up again.

Time to cross the chasm to the Zambian side.

Peddlers try to push us old Zimbabwean Dollar notes from the Mugabe area as we near the makeshift border checkpoint. Between 2007-2009 Zimbabwe went through a complete economic meltdown coupled with hyperinflation. How bad was it? 79,600,000,000% (79.6 Billion percent) in the month of November 2008 alone! In one year, the government moved from printing 10 Zimbabwe Dollar notes to printing 100 Billion Dollar notes. Remembering Doctor Evil’s famous quote, I zeroed my aim on the “Big Kahuna” – the now rare 100 Billion banknote, which I finally traded for the equivalent of $5 USD.

“Lo, an’lo rotze le-Zambia!”

Zambia, on the other hand, fared none of these calamities. Crossing the border, we hoped to see the Switzerland of southern Africa, only to meet the same Zimbabwe-like, semi-failed, Sub-Saharan ambiance. Despite being spared the oppression of a repressive dictatorship coupled with financial ruin, Zambia looked at first impression as untidy and unruly as any other run-of-the-mill Banana Republic. To understand we had been presented with Zambia’s most organized and touristic spot, is to understand the definition of a true s***-hole. For fair disclosure, not all African nations are like that. The following day we crossed into Botswana to discover a well-managed, advanced, and prosperous country. More on that in a future post.

“Well, one less spot to revisit,” I think to myself as the battered van drives us the one-kilometer distance from the border crossing to the gate of the Mosi-oa-Tunya National Park on the eastern part of the falls. The Zambian side is similar to the Zimbabwean in that both contain a side view (in the Zambian case, the eastern flank) and a frontal view. The Zambian side, though, is a bit smaller and covers only about a third of the entire water curtain until it ends at the same narrow chasm through which the gashing Zambezi torrent escapes south and eastwards through the Zambezi gorge to the flatlands beyond.

Safety is for wimps!

Also, while the Zimbabwe side is well fenced off and leaves little room for reckless tourists to do stupid things, the Zambian takes a much more laissez-fare approach to visitor safety. Want to take a dive in the Zambezi at full current, 50 meters away from the falls themselves? Be my guest! Nothing will stop you from playing the big slot machine of life. Proof? We met a few locals that did just that. Where are the other poor souls that didn’t live to tell the tale? They would probably be on their way to Mozambique by now, that is, if the Zambezi crocodiles didn’t get to the mangled bodies first.

To be completely honest, the local authorities did put up a small wooden sign warning of the danger. But that was pretty much it. How many people disappear down the falls every year? No one knows.

We politely declined to join the hospitable Zambians and instead enjoyed a real up-close view of the cascading water and a sprinkle of nice bright sunshine. The latter didn’t last too long as winds and record-breaking Waterflow did their work the more we ventured inside. As we got to the end of the path, near the Zambian side of the Zambezi gap, there was nothing more to see. We were inside a water world of which I had never experienced. The waterproof overcoats did their best to shield us, but nothing short of a full dry diving suit could have worked at that point.

Singing in the (torrential) rain

We were utterly soaked and quite amused about the affair. Our current wet state of affairs reminded me of the gruesome Pyke motto – “What is dead may never die” – our catchphrase at that point was “what is drenched may never get wet.” The warm tropical water gave the ordeal an ambiance of a nice strong shower. As if you could close your eyes and imaging yourself inside the bathroom at your Ritz Carleton suite. Sort of.

I reach the small hanging bridge leading back to the park’s exit. I’m wholly drenched, holding up my waterproof iPhone to picture the bizarre setting. On the left, Victoria Falls peeps between the clouds of spray. On the right, a sunny day with a full-circle rainbow. Strait on, a deluge to shame Hurricane Katherina. I take a deep breath and walk on. On the other side, the rain abruptly stops, and so does my iPhone. The damn thing was not designed for Victoria Falls. It flickers before shutting down. It will only come back from the dead (as if nothing had happened) the following day.

So, should you visit Victoria Falls?

Absolutely yes.
But try to avoid the peak flow months, unless you’re an adventurer with a fancy for the aquatic. We bid farewell to Zambia as we head back to the Zimbabwean side, this time on foot, crossing the beautiful Victoria Falls Bridge. A bungee operator invites us to jump off for $160 US a pop. We politely decline and instead opt to take some last pictures of the great Victoria wonder. Should you feel not challenged enough, you are more than welcome to give them a try.