Rafts ahoy
6 March 2003 10:30![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mandragoraI'm waiting in at present for the new fridge to be delivered, and took the opportunity to sort out part of my (copious) video collection.
Whilst doing so I came across a video of me white-water rafting down the Zambezi River at Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. I visited the country a few years ago, before the present 'troubles'. Seeing what's happening to Zimbabwe now breaks my heart. I had such a fabulous time there, it was absolutely one of the best places I have ever visited (and I've visited more than a few). Amazing scenery, wildlife, very friendly people who provided excellent service without being deferential about it - they were good and they knew it. The burgeoning tourist industry was just about to take off in a big way, thus vastly increasing the country's wealth. And now? Ruined. All ruined.
Anyway, I watched the tape for the first time in a long while. Brought the memories rushing back. I should state now that I am an adrenaline junkie, love the thrill I get from risking life and limb in some pointless pursuit. Oh well, we all need a hobby.
The Zambezi at Victoria Falls is one of the top white-water rafting spots, in fact the World Championships were regularly held there (not certain if they still are in the light of the present political climate) because the rapids are so challenging. However, all those running the rafting trips are very safety conscious - rafts go down in groups of twos, accompanied by a safety canoeist who is there to help anyone flipped out of their raft, or if the raft turns over. And there is a 50% chance that it will... The safety canoeists themselves are absolutely top calibre - they come to Vic Falls because it's a world-class white-water playground. Ours was a member of the US Olympic canoeing squad.
So, yeah, lots of safety. But they still make you sign a lengthy disclaimer, after they've read it aloud to you to make certain that you've heard every word of what you're risking. People can, and do, die white-water rafting although considering the difficulty of the rapids the Zambezi has a pretty good injury record.
First stage was climbing (in some parts literally) down the gorge to the Zambezi. I'm not overly fond of heights (unless parachuting down) so didn't enjoy that much. At times I was teetering on the brink of a loooong sheer drop. But I only had to get myself down, the rafting guide and his helpers had to also carry the raft.
I opted for the 'throw yourself around the raft' method of rafting, where the passengers control the raft by throwing themselves backwards, forwards and sideways as directed by the rafting guide, who has the oars. If we got it wrong, the raft would go over, simple as that. At the end of the training session, we were all directed to leap into the water, presumably to prove to us that our life-jackets worked. I refused to do so, because well, there might be bilharzia in there! Bilharzia is a nasty parasitic worm that lives in still water and burrows into the skin. As were were practising in still water (well, duh!), there was a risk the worm was lurking. I wasn't worried about proving that the life-jacket would work. It was obvious that it would and I'm a sufficiently good swimmer to be a qualified life-guard. Our guide was unmoved. He picked me up and chucked me in.
Onto the rapids. I doubt that I can do justice to the sheer thrill of riding those rapids. It makes the best fun-fair/theme park ride pale into insignificance.
Here's how it goes. You're drifting down the river, soaking up the rays, then the guide tells you to put your life-jacket and crash helmet on. And in the distance you can hear this roar, gradually getting louder and louder as you approach the rapids. You take up your position (I was in the front to one side), and grip the ropes, firmly, with both hands. And then you're there and the guide is yelling, "Forward, forward" and you're throwing your weight forward as hard as you can and there's water around you and above you and flowing over you and your heart is pounding and you can't breathe because you'll only breathe in water and you want to scream and shout and yell but as you open your mouth you're choking on water which is drenching you and soaking you and invading you and the raft is bucking and leaping and you think that it's going to tip back but then it surges forward and it spins round and--
You're through. You're sailing on into calm waters and you're laughing from the adrenaline high as you're heart-beat gradually slows. You strip off your life-jacket and crash-helmet whilst drafting down - until you get close to the next rapids.
Our raft managed to make it down without capsizing. However, I didn't. Well, not quite true but even if the raft itself doesn't tip up, rafters, particularly those at the side like I was, are frequently flipped out into the white water. We were going down rapid number 8, one of the most formidable, and I thought we were through, relaxed my grip slightly on the ropes and then. Water. Everywhere. Above me, below me, around me. Rushing, churning water, throwing me around like I was a rag doll. It was a bit like being caught in a strong, breaking wave and being turned around over and over and over again until you start to wonder whether you'll ever be able to breathe again or will drown in the ocean. Only less regular, more bumpy. It can only have lasted seconds as I was dragged down the white water and shot into the calm. The safety canoeist was by me in seconds asking me if I was okay. I was laughing in sheer exhilaration. I felt great! "Fine, fine," I was saying as I swam for the raft where willing hands pulled me aboard.
I absolutely loved it.
At the end, I was interviewed on the video about my experiences. And, oh dear. Who was that simpering, flirtatious Blondie-wannabe on the film? I know I reacted like that because I was acutely conscious of being videoed when I was looking less than my best (vanity, thy name is Mandragora), hey I'd just been down several thousand tonnes of churning white-water, okay. But still. Ugh. No wonder some blokes get the wrong idea and think that I'm interested in them when I'm Just Trying To Be Friendly, if I often come across like that. Hmm, wonder if that's why our safety canoeist asked me out for dinner that night *g*.
Climbing out of the Gorge was...interesting. Only thing that kept us all going was the knowledge that there was a long, cold beer waiting for us at the top. The temperature was about 45 degrees C (well into the 100s in Fahrenheit). It was hot. And the climb was steep. Very steep. You simply cannot white-water raft down the Zambezi at Vic Falls unless at least moderately fit simply because the climb down and up the Gorge is a bit difficult (note British understatement).
The next day, I was covered in bruises. Every single one of them was worth it.
Whilst doing so I came across a video of me white-water rafting down the Zambezi River at Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. I visited the country a few years ago, before the present 'troubles'. Seeing what's happening to Zimbabwe now breaks my heart. I had such a fabulous time there, it was absolutely one of the best places I have ever visited (and I've visited more than a few). Amazing scenery, wildlife, very friendly people who provided excellent service without being deferential about it - they were good and they knew it. The burgeoning tourist industry was just about to take off in a big way, thus vastly increasing the country's wealth. And now? Ruined. All ruined.
Anyway, I watched the tape for the first time in a long while. Brought the memories rushing back. I should state now that I am an adrenaline junkie, love the thrill I get from risking life and limb in some pointless pursuit. Oh well, we all need a hobby.
The Zambezi at Victoria Falls is one of the top white-water rafting spots, in fact the World Championships were regularly held there (not certain if they still are in the light of the present political climate) because the rapids are so challenging. However, all those running the rafting trips are very safety conscious - rafts go down in groups of twos, accompanied by a safety canoeist who is there to help anyone flipped out of their raft, or if the raft turns over. And there is a 50% chance that it will... The safety canoeists themselves are absolutely top calibre - they come to Vic Falls because it's a world-class white-water playground. Ours was a member of the US Olympic canoeing squad.
So, yeah, lots of safety. But they still make you sign a lengthy disclaimer, after they've read it aloud to you to make certain that you've heard every word of what you're risking. People can, and do, die white-water rafting although considering the difficulty of the rapids the Zambezi has a pretty good injury record.
First stage was climbing (in some parts literally) down the gorge to the Zambezi. I'm not overly fond of heights (unless parachuting down) so didn't enjoy that much. At times I was teetering on the brink of a loooong sheer drop. But I only had to get myself down, the rafting guide and his helpers had to also carry the raft.
I opted for the 'throw yourself around the raft' method of rafting, where the passengers control the raft by throwing themselves backwards, forwards and sideways as directed by the rafting guide, who has the oars. If we got it wrong, the raft would go over, simple as that. At the end of the training session, we were all directed to leap into the water, presumably to prove to us that our life-jackets worked. I refused to do so, because well, there might be bilharzia in there! Bilharzia is a nasty parasitic worm that lives in still water and burrows into the skin. As were were practising in still water (well, duh!), there was a risk the worm was lurking. I wasn't worried about proving that the life-jacket would work. It was obvious that it would and I'm a sufficiently good swimmer to be a qualified life-guard. Our guide was unmoved. He picked me up and chucked me in.
Onto the rapids. I doubt that I can do justice to the sheer thrill of riding those rapids. It makes the best fun-fair/theme park ride pale into insignificance.
Here's how it goes. You're drifting down the river, soaking up the rays, then the guide tells you to put your life-jacket and crash helmet on. And in the distance you can hear this roar, gradually getting louder and louder as you approach the rapids. You take up your position (I was in the front to one side), and grip the ropes, firmly, with both hands. And then you're there and the guide is yelling, "Forward, forward" and you're throwing your weight forward as hard as you can and there's water around you and above you and flowing over you and your heart is pounding and you can't breathe because you'll only breathe in water and you want to scream and shout and yell but as you open your mouth you're choking on water which is drenching you and soaking you and invading you and the raft is bucking and leaping and you think that it's going to tip back but then it surges forward and it spins round and--
You're through. You're sailing on into calm waters and you're laughing from the adrenaline high as you're heart-beat gradually slows. You strip off your life-jacket and crash-helmet whilst drafting down - until you get close to the next rapids.
Our raft managed to make it down without capsizing. However, I didn't. Well, not quite true but even if the raft itself doesn't tip up, rafters, particularly those at the side like I was, are frequently flipped out into the white water. We were going down rapid number 8, one of the most formidable, and I thought we were through, relaxed my grip slightly on the ropes and then. Water. Everywhere. Above me, below me, around me. Rushing, churning water, throwing me around like I was a rag doll. It was a bit like being caught in a strong, breaking wave and being turned around over and over and over again until you start to wonder whether you'll ever be able to breathe again or will drown in the ocean. Only less regular, more bumpy. It can only have lasted seconds as I was dragged down the white water and shot into the calm. The safety canoeist was by me in seconds asking me if I was okay. I was laughing in sheer exhilaration. I felt great! "Fine, fine," I was saying as I swam for the raft where willing hands pulled me aboard.
I absolutely loved it.
At the end, I was interviewed on the video about my experiences. And, oh dear. Who was that simpering, flirtatious Blondie-wannabe on the film? I know I reacted like that because I was acutely conscious of being videoed when I was looking less than my best (vanity, thy name is Mandragora), hey I'd just been down several thousand tonnes of churning white-water, okay. But still. Ugh. No wonder some blokes get the wrong idea and think that I'm interested in them when I'm Just Trying To Be Friendly, if I often come across like that. Hmm, wonder if that's why our safety canoeist asked me out for dinner that night *g*.
Climbing out of the Gorge was...interesting. Only thing that kept us all going was the knowledge that there was a long, cold beer waiting for us at the top. The temperature was about 45 degrees C (well into the 100s in Fahrenheit). It was hot. And the climb was steep. Very steep. You simply cannot white-water raft down the Zambezi at Vic Falls unless at least moderately fit simply because the climb down and up the Gorge is a bit difficult (note British understatement).
The next day, I was covered in bruises. Every single one of them was worth it.
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no subject
Date: 6 March 2003 05:28 (UTC)Sounds brilliant, and you've told it so well I'm surprised to find myself still sitting here, safe and dry.
I dreamt of going there, a long time ago, but never managed it. Thanks for letting me have a vicarious moment.
no subject
Date: 6 March 2003 07:18 (UTC)I must admit that the video brought all of the memories flooding back. Happy days.
I always intended to go back and do the white-water rafting again , plus that helicopter ride round the Falls that I didn't have time for last time I visited, maybe combine it with a trip canoeing down the Okavango Delta. Now... I don't know. But at least I have been once. So I really sympathise with your wish to go there and share your frustration that at present there's absolutely no way I could go to visit in good conscience.
If only Mugabe would go.