Victoria Falls: The Land of Double Rainbows

We set out from Cape Town International Airport early the morning of March 31, had a layover in Jo’burg, and arrived in Livingstone, Zambia midday giving us enough time to drop our stuff at Jollyboys Backpackers then catch our first of many taxi rides from Bison to Victoria Falls. One of our cab drivers back in CT, Marshall, had sent us off giving us the responsibility of reporting back whether Table Mountain of Vic Falls was a more impressive natural feature. I can say that Vic Falls is a better one-time visit due to its sheer colossal size and beauty, but that Table is better for multiple trips because of the various trails and hiking never gets old. After taking out 400,000 of the heavily inflated kwacha currency (~$80), I was ready to make it rain all over Livingstone. Walking through the Zambian side viewing trail for the falls was quite an unexpected escapade, the place was essentially a natural water park. There are dry areas on the trail, but getting completely drenched is unavoidable with the monsoon rains that are created from the splash of the falls hitting the pool below and rising hundreds of feet into the air. One day in and half my clothes were already soaked – I had a very limited wardrobe to limit space.

For Day 2, we embarked to Zimbabwe for the more popular Victoria Falls Park. Zimbabwe, the country infamous for its violently repressive and obdurate dictator, Robert Mugabe, and unimaginable hyperinflation, which peaked in ’08-09 – bills printed were as high as 100 trillion Zim dollars (I bought a 500 billion as a souvenir). Learning about the history of Zimbabwe’s torture factories used to intimidate voters and punish dissidents, the Gukurahundi genocide, and widespread police corruption under Mugabe’s leadership induced what I’ll call the Zim paranoia-complex. Passing from Zambia into Zimbabwe as our first overland crossing was definitely a little unnerving, even though the park is literally just over the border. Before crossing the Zambian side into No Man’s Land (NML), fortified by a barbed wire fence, security shed, and AK-47 clad border police, I thought it was a good scene for a Kodak moment. Bad F***ing idea. With death stares, the two soldiers angrily called me over and made me delete the photo. I definitely felt fortunate that my camera did not get smashed in the severity of my mistake.

Now that the nerves were given a bit of a shock, the sketchy half-mile walk through NML intensified the Zim paranoia-complex. Compared to the U.S., the border security seemed laughable, although we encountered some unexpected security forces in NML. In the distance we could see baboons raiding the line of 18-wheeler trucks, which probably contained some sort of food, and knowing of their aggressive tendencies, this was a little intimidating. Finally coming within sight of the Zim immigration check, a baboon jumps the fence probably 20 feet behind us. The adrenaline spike causes Giulia to have a minor panic and she just about starts to book, using Cams as a shield (not a good idea to run) when Camille, the cool and collected nature whisperer, boldly, but stealthily projects “Don’t run! Don’t run!” Gradually we clear the baboon threat by power walking, the heart rate settles, and we reach immigration. I avoided another minor disaster here through one of my emergency preparation strategies. Zim would not accepted the highly inflated kwacha, ironically enough, but luckily the 300 rand I had stored under the insole of my shoe in a duct tape pouch was accepted and coincidentally the exact amount.

The Zim side was incredibly beautiful and the falls overpowering, without the torrential downpours that characterized the Zam side. It was like the magic of Narnia and Hogwarts combined to create the Land of Double Rainbows, as the mist was penetrated by intense sunlight, fracturing the light beams into the full spectrum of colors (I’ll have to confirm the science here with Bill Nye). Seeing the most distinct and prevailing colors ever from a rainbow with the mighty falls in the background was quite the delight. Bison kept his word and was at the spot he had left us earlier to bring us back to Jollyboys, where we could rest up for the next leg of the journey: the Okavango Delta in Botswana.