Vic Falls revisted

Went back to the falls the next day. It couldn't possibly have the magic that it had when experienced on my own, but it was still awesome and we had a good time. The wind must have changed, as it wasn't nearly so wet. Although sitting at danger point still had a saturing effect.

We stayed in town for a few days. Went out for a couple of good meals - warthog, impala, crocodile and ostrich all went down very well.

Lots of our group went bungee jumping, and again I longed to jump. But too late in the day. Hey, ho, maybe next time - I should be back at Vic Falls in a couple of months.

The whole group booked on to a sunset cruise (for sunset, read booze), which was only mildly scenic, but great fun nonetheless. It all got more exciting when the engines failed and we drifted helplessly downstream towards the thundering falls. No, not really. So we made our own, strange, entertainment.

The evening carried on in a beery vein when we got back to the campsite. Lots of people decided to go swimming, but I chose to sit and sip quietly. Then noticed Nick and Sam striding purposefully towards me - I just had time to rip off my shorts and shirt before being hurled into the pool. Fun and games in the pool, then later back in the bar... more fun and games. 'Truth or dare' soon became 'truth or truth', though I don't think anyone was called upon to reveal anything we didn't already know. Hugs and kisses were freely given by the lovely boys. Sam appeared naked, clutching his shorts and shirt and asking if anyone had seen his clothes. Or was that another night? Then there was the evening in the truck with Nick and his guitar...

There were a few green faces as the boys poured themselves onto the truck in the morning.

So we left Vic Falls, a place of rapture by day and partying by night, and headed for Botswana.

Vic Falls Photos

Managed to take a few photos in the drier places on my return visit, though none of them do justice to the falls. No words nor pictures can capture what I saw and felt.

Victoria Falls

When I saw Victoria Falls, I cried.

It is the most spectacular sight I have ever seen. It's staggering.

The trail leads to numerous viewpoints, each wetter than the last. Some were dryish, some just sprayed you with a fine mist, but some were beyond belief. The spray fell like rain - as heavy as anything a Malaysian storm can throw at you - but from all directions - above, below, this side, that side. Rivers of water ran down my back and stomach, into my shorts. It smacked me in the face and under my chin. I ran through it, stood in it, held out my arms to embrace it, and laughed.

The falls are on the opposite side of the gorge from the trails and there was really only one place where I could see the river below. The water must only have been halfway down its fall when it met the spray coming up.

At Danger Point there is no fence, and I lay on the rock with my head hanging over the edge, into the gorge. My face was battered by a gravity-defying power-shower. There was nothing to see - a total whiteout - but it was fantastic to be there, to hear it and feel it and be part of it.

In other places I stood and gazed, hypnotized by the water till I wanted to fall with it.

A small horde of Chinese tourists juggled optimistically with a hopeless combination of umbrellas, ponchos and cameras. One dear lady kept determinedly tucking me under her umbrella. And before I knew it they were all taking turns to pose with me for photos. They were a sweet crowd, but I was glad when eventually I made my escape.

Another trail led to a point where you could see the Zambezi bridge and the gorge beyond the falls - a view interrupted every few minutes by someone plummeting down from the bridge attached to a large rubber band. For the first time ever, I wanted to bungee jump, just for the sensation of leaping into the gorge which had been tugging at me all morning.

In a dry sunny spot at Livingstone's feet, I sat and steamed. Soon I was dry enough to go and get wet again. And so the day wore on. Finally leaving, it felt all wrong to turn my back and go.

The Road Ahead

Driving through Malawi, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, I've started to get a sense of the vastness and varied beauty of this mighty continent. Watching the road reach out ahead, I found myself wanting to run towards each receding horizon.

Chris had a simple (so obvious!) solution, which didn't actually involve throwing me off the truck and driving away. Set off early in the morning, then walk till the truck catches up. So today I did that. And at the lunch stop I did it again. With an idiot grin on my face each step of the way.

Matobo National Park

We had a wonderful guide, Brian, for this trip out to the park. He was knowledgable, interesting and enthusiastic.

Almost as soon as we'd entered the park, we spotted two white rhinos grazing. We hopped out of the little open truck thingy and gradually approached them. For ten, maybe fifteen minutes, we stood and watched them from just a few metres away, while Brian told us in hushed tones all that anyone could possibly want to know about rhinos.

We checked out a spring and nearby found a recently killed zebra, its blood still wet on its wounds. Almost certainly the loser of a young males' fight.

The park was beautiful. The sky was a huge, improbable blue, with not a cloud to be seen.Sitting by the lake at lunchtime, I could smell the hot earth.

We also visited caves to see bushman rock paintings (of disputed age). Again, it was great to have a good guide to explain them, although I'm not really sure that so many references to large buttocks were strictly necessary.

The second cave site involved a walk through a truly impressive rocky landscape. After seeing the paintings, we headed up to the top of a hill - well, a huge lump of rock - where I slunk off from the group for a much needed dose of solitude. The scenery took my breath away, and made my heart ache for this wounded country.

Bulawayo

Bulawayo struck me as a charming town, with its wide streets, flowering shrubs, bits of colonial architecture and local bustle.

Visited Chipengali animal orphanage, which is apparently a kosher orphanage. Good close-up viewing of leopards and lions etc. A bit too close maybe for those who got sprayed by one of the lions.

Some pics from Chipengali:

Antelope Park

We drove from Great Zimbabwe into the sunset, to Antelope Park, near Gweru. This seemed like quite an upmarket resort - and a circus.

A member of staff came to give us a briefing on all the activities on offer: walking with lions, hunting with lions, lion cub viewing, elephant riding, elephant swimming, elephant training... I'm surprised they didn't have seals balancing balls on their noses.

As my fellow truckies eagerly signed up, my heart sank. This wasn't the Africa I had come to see and I didn't want a part of it. I managed to stay out of arguments about how I felt about what they were doing, and spent a pleasant day reading and doing exciting things like some washing.

The park claims to be running a captive breeding programme aimed at releasing lions into the wild. In twenty years they haven't yet released one, though apparently they hope to do so soon. Whether their lions end up in zoos or being 'hunted' by rich tourists who like shooting semi-tame animals isn't quite clear. I certainly can't see how a life of playing with humans is going to prepare a lion for the wild.

Still, it was nice to camp on the banks of a crocodile-infested river. And to make use of the swishest ablutions block in Africa.

Great Zimbabwe

Great Zimbabwe is indeed great. Dating from the 13th Century, it is "the greatest medieval structure in sub-saharan Africa". It gave its name to Zimbabwe and it's fascinating place. Its dry-stone walls seem barely battered by time. Goods from Arabia and China were found there, along with the famous soapstone birds - one of which graces the national flag.

Nick posing in front of the scene on the 10,000 dollar note.

Harare

For some absurd reason my head was constantly singing "Harare" to the tune of "Valare". Well, Dad's version of the tune of Valare, as it's the only one I know. It was unexcitingly like any other city, and penniless as we were, we felt we had exhausted it's charms in an hour.

At the Zimbabwean border this morning, we had taken the exchange desk by surprise by trying to change some money. The poor chap behind the counter looked quite befuddled and had to call reinforcements to turn computers on, unlock money boxes and find receipt books. Not surprising really at Z$250 to US$1. Later that day we got a rate of 13,000. Today (a week later) it is up to 20,000. The idea was to change a little so that we'd have at least one official receipt as the 'parallel' rate is illegal. How this is meant to work beats me - a small bottle of water cost US$52 at the offical rate! I thought there might be some complicated economic reason why this dual system works, but I'm assured that it's because "Uncle Bob lives in cloud cuckoo land". No doubt Simon will be able to furnish me with a good explanation if there is one.

We also took the good (but possibly in-bred) folk at our campsite by surprise, due to a communications error. I guess Harare isn't really on the tourist trail these days, but they turned on the water and rushed off into town to buy beers and snacks and whatever else you need to stock a bar and generally made us feel welcome. And found us some Zim dollars, so much fun was had clutching six and a half million dollars before divvying it up.

If you don't hear from me again, it's because Uncle Bob has read my blog...