Zimbabwe

Safari Zimbabwe

December 27, 2002

So many people have told us that we are crazy to go to Zimbabwe. Riots, no fuel, no food, white farmers being attacked. Our experience was somewhat different (apart from the long queues at the gas stations). The second day in Zim(babwe) our group met up with Ian, 6' 6" tall and skinny as a rail. Never before had any of us seen someone so dynamic, so energetic, so focused on a single animal, the rhino. Ian was to be our guide for four hours in Matopos National Park, tracking these long horned, dangerous animals through the bush.

Loaded into the back of an old Land Rover we entered the park full of expectation. Our excitement was heightened by the landscape, thick bush, with tall hills of stacked stones rising above them. Suddenly we stop, Ian leans out of the driver's seat and points. . . there it is. . . our first find. . . a silver cluster leaf tree. Ian energetically explains how these trees were once confined to a

Rafting the Zambezi

December 29, 2002

Victoria Falls - Zach wanted to bungee-jump in tandem. I was terrified of bungee-jumping and suggested white-water rafting at Victoria Falls as a sort of compromise. Almost always cautious, and generally much too serious, I felt like I was breaking barriers by opting to do something so (potentially) recklessly fun. And so we signed up to spend a day on the grade 5 rapids of the Mighty Zambezi. Shearwater, the company we booked our venture through, picked us up from our lodge around 7:30 in the morning. After a brief orientation, the signing of liability waivers, and the distribution of nyami-nyami pendants (symbolizing the spirit of the Zambezi River) which we wore around our necks for good luck, we picked up our gear and hiked down a slippery gorge to the river's edge. Our team--made up of six from our Drifters Safari, a jolly British chap named Lee, and our guide, Matt--arranged ourselves on the raft and had a quick "all you need to know" lesson: forward paddle, back paddle, left back, right back, forward paddle HARDER, back paddle HARDER, and just plain HARDER.

narrow corner of the park, but once the elephants were all poached out the trees spread since nothing else eats them. While we are learning all of this Jacques is pulling leaves off the tree and distributing them to the group. "Chew," he says. . . a little bitter. . . why are our lips going numb? Turns out this tree is a natural anesthetic, which explains why the elephants love it. Alright, not a rhino, but cool enough.

After some more talk of trees and other plants, and a zebra sighting we entered the territory of a female white rhino and her young calf. And there they were, 150 feet across a field. Just close enough for a zoom lens, but not for Ian. We got out of the truck and moved around down wind of the pair and started working our way closer. . . 125 feet. . . 100 feet. . . 75 feet. . . . The young bull was getting edgy, setting his mother off. Time to back off and get back in the truck.

30 US bucks in Zim dollars.

On the way out of the park, with time running short before they close the gate, we spotted a big, male white rhino across a small lake. Unfazed by the 3+ hour game drive Ian guided his Land Rover around the lake, passing two other trucks of tourists that had stopped 200 feet from the rhino. While we all wondered what was going on, Ian drove down a side road, hopped out of his seat and motioned us to silently follow him along the tree line. Closer and closer to the horned beast we crept. Finally freezing as the enormous beast ate its way towards us. 15 feet! Not even 5 meters, beautiful, silent and gentle. After a few more minutes we turned back to avoid being caught in the park after closing.

--Z

And then it was time for our first rapid of the morning, appropriately named "Morning Glory." Yep. Yours truly was the first person from our raft to be violently cast overboard. I temporarily clung to the safety rope, but the force was too strong and I got sucked right under. I hugged my paddle tightly and started to count, as our guide had explained that the life vests prevent you from being under water for more than ten seconds. At about ten, I started sucking in water. At about fifteen I popped to the top, completely terrified and disoriented, gasping and coughing. I was a "swimmer," as they say, helplessly bobbing along, clinching my paddle all the while. At long last, a safety kayak picked me up and steered me in the direction of another team's raft, into which I was hurled face first. I only had seconds to consider how I would get through a whole waterlogged day being tossed around like a hanky in a Maytag before we approached the next rapid. This time my serious side prevailed and I dug my paddle into the waves with mighty determination, pressing my legs hard into the raft to keep balanced. Hard work paid off and we made it through. It was even, well. . . fun.

I rejoined my team's raft and my spirits picked up. When I learned that they had actually toppled over while I was out for my swim, I felt even better. As we peacefully drifted down the river gorge between the

second and third rapid of the morning, I decided that it was going to be a good day. All in all our team did pretty well. Zach did an excellent job at the front of the raft and only fell in twice (once for a long swim with "The Three Sisters" and "The Mother") and after my early morning mishap I only went swimming twice more. In between some of the rapids we were allowed to jump out of the raft and drift independently down stream--a fabulous contrast to the adrenalin-pumping rapids. The water was so warm and soft and the puffy life vests made floating on our backs or stomachs absolutely effortless.

At the end of the day we had paddled our way through fifteen rapids. Ironically, the most dangerous part of it all ended up being exiting the raft--I scraped my shin against a rock (a battle wound still evident as I write this entry six weeks later!). The most challenging part of the day was definitely the steep 750-foot ascent out of the gorge. It began to rain as I reached the top (the perfect end to a hot and sweaty climb) and all the rafters converged under a thatched roof to partake of cold beer, Fanta, and Coca-Cola. In addition to the memories, I left the river with several tangible reminders of the day: a "Zambezi River Survivor" certificate, the nyami-nyami pendant, and a scab on my left shin.

--A

At Victoria Falls.