Crazy Water, Crazy Driving
December 29, 2006
Fourteen guys showed up on day two to load boats and tear down camp. Carrie was in heaven.
They wouldn’t let us do anything. We just had to sit and watch while the work got done. Finally we loaded into the boat and headed downstream. Now we had an oar rig to haul gear and our boat for us. Jackson showed up to take a boat. Since he is sort of a boss, he took over from Quiet and controlled our raft for the next day and a half.
He was okay, but we missed Quiet. Instead of saying “paddle”, Quiet would say “packie”. Back paddle turned into back packie. At first we had no idea what he was saying, but by day two we genuinely missed it.
Anyway, day two was slower than day one with long flat stretches between rapids. Some of the whitewater was still huge, don’t get me wrong, but there was more time to enjoy the scenery. The currents were amazing; huge water funneled down into tiny little narrows. This created giant boils of swirling water appearing and disappearing. Apparently at higher water these boils become big enough to suck a boat under. For us they were big enough to impress, but not so big as to terrify. Our captains guided us expertly through it all; even the last two of the day which were two of the biggest rapids I have ever seen. We camped between two monsters; the upper one huge, but run without a hitch, and the lower one unrunnable by anyone’s definition.
In 1905, G.W. Lamplugh encountered the above falls and formed this impression: "Insignificant in height, it is true, but when one stands on the brink and sees the whole volume of the great Zambezi converging into a single pass only fifty or sixty feet in width, shuddering, and then plunging for twenty feet in a massive curve that seems in its impact visibly to tear the grim basaltic rocks asunder, one learns better then from the feathery spray-fans of Victoria Falls what force there is in the river, and one wonders no longer at the profundity of the gorge."
Day three was short; only about an hour on the river after the first portage. The take out was a rocky beach set right at the spot where a dam was supposed to have been built. Fortunately, the Zambians backed out and Zimbabwe couldn’t afford to continue. We de-rigged the boats and helped cart gear about a mile to the “road”. There we loaded all the equipment and fourteen people into a Toyota pickup and traversed the worst forest service road imaginable. More than once I swore we would topple off the edge. After an hour of hair raising adventure we came to a more sensible dirt road. Shortly thereafter we were delayed by a flat tire.
To their credit, the folks at Frontier had come equipped with three spares. Everyone piled out and the porters set about putting on the spare. It was only a stroke of luck that the bottle jack snapped in half after the spare was already on.
After an eternity we came to the tar road, turned right and headed for Vic Falls. We arrived home two hours later than planned. Zachary had just awakened and was lying in Anna’s arms screaming, “They’re never coming back!” it was heart wrenching. Carrie got him calmed and we all settled in for a relaxing night at home.
It was a stupendous trip; one that both of us desperately needed. We came back relaxed and invigorated. We need to do that more often. I am now sufficiently tired of traveling and ready to head back home.
MJR
Fourteen guys showed up on day two to load boats and tear down camp. Carrie was in heaven.
They wouldn’t let us do anything. We just had to sit and watch while the work got done. Finally we loaded into the boat and headed downstream. Now we had an oar rig to haul gear and our boat for us. Jackson showed up to take a boat. Since he is sort of a boss, he took over from Quiet and controlled our raft for the next day and a half.
He was okay, but we missed Quiet. Instead of saying “paddle”, Quiet would say “packie”. Back paddle turned into back packie. At first we had no idea what he was saying, but by day two we genuinely missed it.
Anyway, day two was slower than day one with long flat stretches between rapids. Some of the whitewater was still huge, don’t get me wrong, but there was more time to enjoy the scenery. The currents were amazing; huge water funneled down into tiny little narrows. This created giant boils of swirling water appearing and disappearing. Apparently at higher water these boils become big enough to suck a boat under. For us they were big enough to impress, but not so big as to terrify. Our captains guided us expertly through it all; even the last two of the day which were two of the biggest rapids I have ever seen. We camped between two monsters; the upper one huge, but run without a hitch, and the lower one unrunnable by anyone’s definition.
In 1905, G.W. Lamplugh encountered the above falls and formed this impression: "Insignificant in height, it is true, but when one stands on the brink and sees the whole volume of the great Zambezi converging into a single pass only fifty or sixty feet in width, shuddering, and then plunging for twenty feet in a massive curve that seems in its impact visibly to tear the grim basaltic rocks asunder, one learns better then from the feathery spray-fans of Victoria Falls what force there is in the river, and one wonders no longer at the profundity of the gorge."Day three was short; only about an hour on the river after the first portage. The take out was a rocky beach set right at the spot where a dam was supposed to have been built. Fortunately, the Zambians backed out and Zimbabwe couldn’t afford to continue. We de-rigged the boats and helped cart gear about a mile to the “road”. There we loaded all the equipment and fourteen people into a Toyota pickup and traversed the worst forest service road imaginable. More than once I swore we would topple off the edge. After an hour of hair raising adventure we came to a more sensible dirt road. Shortly thereafter we were delayed by a flat tire.
To their credit, the folks at Frontier had come equipped with three spares. Everyone piled out and the porters set about putting on the spare. It was only a stroke of luck that the bottle jack snapped in half after the spare was already on.
After an eternity we came to the tar road, turned right and headed for Vic Falls. We arrived home two hours later than planned. Zachary had just awakened and was lying in Anna’s arms screaming, “They’re never coming back!” it was heart wrenching. Carrie got him calmed and we all settled in for a relaxing night at home.
It was a stupendous trip; one that both of us desperately needed. We came back relaxed and invigorated. We need to do that more often. I am now sufficiently tired of traveling and ready to head back home.
MJR
posted by Bronx to Timbuktu at 1:31 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home