We landed in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe and stood in a painfully slow immigration line where only one person was working the counter. Sadly this country is falling apart as we write: inflation is 4000%, landlords are requiring rent to be paid in groceries, gas and food are running out, and anyone who speaks out is being tortured. From the half-deserted airport, we caught a taxi to the waterfalls. And in this increasingly desperate country we ended up having to roll the dice and entrust our luggage to a taxi driver for we visited the waterfalls. He seemed to be an honest man, though, so I was hopeful.We entered Victoria Falls National Park, where signs informed us that this was one of the 7 natural wonders of the world. We walked down a dirt path and soon we were hearing a roar and feeling a sprinkle of rain. We continued and there was more rain, and savannah suddenly turned into rainforest. The sky, of course, was crystal blue, as this rain was coming from the mind-boggling splash of water that was crashing from a 35 story fall. The splash is so powerful that it rises up and up, perhaps a hundred feet above the waterfall itself. We donned our ponchos and descended to get our first glimpse of the falls from the "cataract view point". Of course they were beautiful, a rushing white cascade, the whole bottom half lost in mist, and across which a rainbow or two would arc at all times. As we walked further along a cliff opposing the falls, we got progressively wetter. At one point we were standing in a storm of water so intense that it soaked through our ponchos and “waterproof” shoes. So we started back and, thankfully found our trustworthy driver, waiting patiently in a parking lot for us as he had promised over two hours before.
We crossed into Zambia and the city of Livingstone, got another cab, and promptly ran out of gas. So we got out and pushed, our driver dangerously siphoned the gas with his mouth, and some nice kid ran to the gas station to get some fuel for us. The cost of gasoline is drowning people in the developing world. Prices in poor countries without a subsidy are often ~$6/gallon, so many can only afford a few squirts at a time. We checked into Jollyboys Backpackers, a place that Madh' sister Pal recommended, a clean chilled-out hostel that we loved from our first minute there. The next day we woke early to do some whitewater rafting down the notorious Zambezi River. The rapids were pretty intense, but due to the time of year they were not amazing (like the Nile River was for us years ago), though our overly cautious guide called every upcoming rapid “a class 5”. Along the way we got out and jumped off a 35 foot cliff into the water, which was quite frightening (and unknown to ius a prelude of things to come). Later I tried riverboarding (boogie-boarding a perpetual river wave), but like everyone else I got swept pass the wave and down the river; I swam desperately for dear life while the rescue kayakers sunbathed on the bank. Our raft buddies that day were LeeAnne and Veronica, very nice young women from Southern California who were working for the Peace Corps in Mozambique. They happened to be staying at Jollyboys as well, so we'd have dinner with them every night from then on.
The next day all our plans were hinging on a pending reservation to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. When we sorted that out, we decided to stay in Zambia for three more days. So how would we fill our time? We looked on the walls of the hostel and started choosing activities one by one.
We started with the motorized hang glider, where (on separate flights) we sat behind a pilot in this featherweight contraption and a minute later we were flying like it was 1929. The views of Victoria Falls were absolutely thrilling! Seeing elephants from a a few thousand feet high was pretty cool as well. I thought maybe I should take up this hobby until we approached the runway for landing – forget about it!We were warming up and decided to move into X-Games territory. So that afternoon we rode in the back of a safari open-air type jeep with our lunch spilling all over the place en route to a gorge for a program involving jumping off a cliff in all manner of ways. First we did “abseiling”, better known to us as repelling, which means bouncing down a cliffside attached to a rope above. The hardest part was walking off the edge, but afterwards it wasn’t too scary. Next we were attached to a wheel linked to a rope that spanned the gorge. So we stepped back, ran off the cliff, and slid across the sky. That also wasn’t terribly scary because, like repelling, you feel the tension of the supporting harness all the way.
But I liked it more because I’ve always dreamed of soaring like a great bird, and I think that was about as close as it gets (maybe true hang gliding is better).
And now it was time for the grand finale – the gorge swing. This is when the shit hit the fan. First we watched as young British girls stepped up to the cliff edge… and then off… screaming in terror …and disappearing really really fast into a 180 foot 2.5 second freefall. I shot a video of one of these girls jumping off, and Madh and I watched the replay 20 times laughing in disturbing glee at her terrified shriek and my terrified giggly giggle.
Madh’s decision about the whole thing was “no way in hell”, so I stepped up all alone. They strapped me in at the back so that I would fall face first. I inspected every connection, asking the poor workers what all the back-up mechanisms were. The camera guy said he wouldn’t trust any of these dudes. Then one of those dudes ordered me to step forward. As my toes inched to the edge of the platform, I looked down and my heart just sunk. It did not seem to me that taking another step forward was the right thing to do. “Three, two, one…go!” Oh well. I stuck my right leg out and fell off the cliff. “Holy shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!!!” That’s what I said. And I meant it. You know the big downhill on the famous wooden roller coaster of your childhood where you scream but you’re not all that scared; you’re just trying to have a good time. This was nothing like that. I was crashing madly towards earth with no reassuring support tension, no time to think, and the trees and rocks getting real big real fast. Then just in time and with a rough jerk the rope went taut and I went swinging smoothly above the gorge floor. I was OK. Afterwards I walked up the hill and met an anxiously awaiting Madhavi. "Nima, how was it?!" "Umm, it was good, yeah." I sounded like Jon Lovitz. Then I snapped out of it and told Madh she had to give it a try, but she had made up her mind: "No thanks, no way, let's go." On the surface she was leaving no doubts to exploit, but I knew that Madhavi (who has more pride than she lets on) would have eventually regretted not doing it. So I ambushed her by enlisting the staff to pile on the peer pressure. She caved. We stepped up together for a tandem jump, this time backwards. We were strapped to the rope and each other, backed towards the edge without being able to see anything below, then on "go" I fell back as instructed while Madh closed her eyes and hesitated for a second before stepping back. Before I knew it I was freefalling with my wife above me! It was definitely more fun than the first jump, and I started laughing out of joy. Madh did too: "That was great! I can't believe it. So fun!" She thanked me for my sneakiness. We drove back to the hostel exhilarated.
The next day we took care of a lot of business, buying plane tickets, booking rooms, etc. In the back of my mind all day was the final remaining extreme challenge: the Victoria Bridge bungee jump. LeeAnne and Veronica did the gorge swing and the bungee jump that same day (crazy). That night they told us all about it, how the jump was great fun with beautiful views of the Falls and not as scary or whiplashing as the gorge swing. "You've gotta do it Nima!" Madh said she'd watch in support. I made the reservation.In the morning we went to the Falls early to see them from the Zambia side, which was also a stunning vantage point. But the excitement was distracting me a bit. This bungee jump is one of the world's tallest, a 350 foot 4 second freefall. It was hard to imagine falling twice as far as we had just done on the gorge. I signed my life away on the typical insensitive liability waiver - "You may die, and that would not be our fault." Madh and I walked to the bridge. I was the second jumper of the day. I crawled into a cage at the edge of the bridge where I was strapped and locked in a really confusing way: I had no idea what I was being attached to as the bulk of the bungee cord was down on another level. The happy-go-lucky Rastafarian guy doing all the attaching said "It's cool, man. Don't worry, just bungee." This was the ultimate in human trust. I walked to the edge. People tell you not to look down, but I always do. The river I would be diving towards was actually so far below, so far away that the whole thing didn't seem real. I was still scared, though. And I must say that this fear as you're standing there about to do something like this is perhaps the best part. "5,4,3,2,1,bungee!" I jumped off with arms stretched out like an eagle. No weight, incredible speed, and no sound but the whispering air. It felt like 4 seconds, no longer, then the elastic cord starting pulling and once again, I was OK. I bounced up and down a few times as I tried to soak up the incredible scene of the edge of Victoria Falls on one side and the Zambezi everywhere else. But soon the head rush became distracting - they don't tell you about this when you bungee, but every time you decelerate head-first blood rushes to your head and it's pretty uncomfortable. So when that guy descends out of nowhere on a rope and turns you right-side-up, you're really happy. Overall it was pretty damn cool.
Need I tell you what happened back up top? Madhavi was thrilled for me and perfectly satisfied going home now. This time I didn't even push the issue, as I thought the freefall of the gorge swing was as much as anyone needed to experience. Then we watched the video of me jumping set to great adrenaline-style music, and Madh slipped: "God, maybe I need to do this." Soon we were back on the bridge, but we had to wait for like ten people to go in front of us, a couple of them being really nervous. This didn't help Madh, who was obviously more terrified of this than the gorge swing. From any spot on the bridge it is easy to see how far the fall is, and if you start thinking about it you could be in trouble. I reassured her and she was strong. Again, we'd go tandem. We were strapped together and approached the edge - which you have to do with a silly hop because your legs are tied together. I didn't realize this, but Madh was dead set on not looking down so she was staring into the sky which is why she wasn't moving forward too much. Eventually we got there. "Bungee!" We jumped, this time side by side. We celebrated with kisses as our double weight caused us to bounce up incredibly high two or three times. Afterwards we rushed back to town to catch a bus for the 6-hour ride to Lusaka, Zambia's capital. The scenery was classic savannah Africa, the ground-level equivalent of what we saw from 30,000 feet flying through Southern Africa 2 weeks prior. The next day we boarded a flight to Arusha to embark on a more old-school adventure: climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.
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