Victoria Falls

Now If I’d researched and planned appropriately, I would have realised that there was a combi-visa for Zambia and Zimbabwe that allowed multiple entries into both countries and which cost less than the Zimbabwean single-entry tourist visa that I’d purchased on arrival in Harare a few days earlier. I wasn’t aware of this combi-visa until I’d hastily stamped myself out of Zimbabwe due to aforementioned dwindling funds, but if I’d planned better I would a) have ensured that I had more cash on my person to survive under Zim’s tattered, cardless economy for longer; and b) have been able to walk leisurely across the bridge connecting the two nations to my heart’s content, thereby experiencing the best views from both sides of the Falls.

As is typical of my luck, consensus at the time was that the Falls on the Zambian side were far less spectacular than on the Zimbabwean side. Budget and time did not allow for my backtracking to the imaginatively-named bordertown of Vic Falls in Zimbabwe, so I was forced to enjoy what I could during my short stay in Livingstone. But let this be said: even in their compromised form, and with ‘low’ water levels, these remain the most spectacular waterfalls that I’ve ever laid eyes upon. Iguazu and Niagara are bewitching in their splendor too, of course, but there’s something about Victoria that captures my imagination much, much more. It’s considerably less commercialised and overtouristed than the other two and therefore does a considerably better job at retaining the integrity behind its natural allure. The rainforested setting on the majestic Zambezi river – with hippos and crocs known to be somewhere (much further!) downstream – does a lot to amplify that, as does the water itself: Victoria is neither the tallest (Angel) nor the widest (Iguazu) of its kind, but when considering its entire breadth and depth it works out as the world’s largest sheet of falling water. It’s incredible to behold and superlatives don’t do it justice: the elongated fingers of cascading, thundering water… that hypnotic contrast of impossibly-pure white against the deepest brown of the rocks… it truly feels like one of nature’s miracles in constant, rip-roaring motion. I walked around the park for the entire morning, jaw fully agape, stopping and staring every few minutes to fully savour the spectacle before my eyes.

I don’t recall any other foreign visitors during my visit here (though it was eight years ago now…), but I do recall quite a few domestic tourists who were all super friendly and courteous. There’s a very slight regret in my avoidance of the (in?)famous Devil’s Pool – where you can swim over to a little lip right on the edge of the Falls which has a natural barrier that prevents you from tumbling down to your doom – but the fact that I hate swimming in open water, let alone swimming against the currents of the croc-and-hippo infested Zambezi, means that it’s a decision that doesn’t especially plague the memory. I do regret not spending more time at the Falls and in Zambia full stop. It’s a nation I’ve heard only good things about – especially its safaris/national parks which are meant to be considerably more affordable than elsewhere on the continent. Unfortunately, as is often the case with me, I was racing against the clock by this point, so after returning to Livingstone and grabbing some lunch, I had to jump in a kombi over to another part of the Zambezi, where I hopped on a (now defunct!) ferry to get across to Botswana. More on that another time.