indexindexVictoria Falls picture gallery
150 years ago this November, 2005, David Livingstone “discovered” the Victoria Falls. They were then known as the Mosi-oa-tunya “the smoke that thunders” but he instantly renamed them after his Queen. When I, in my turn, discovered that it is now possible to visit the Falls from London for a long weekend I was delighted but Dr Livingstone, I presume, did not have to contend with a crowded M 25 motorway.
Having accepted a lift to Heathrow and then crawled through pouring rain in
dense Thursday evening rush-hour traffic, I checked in for my overnight flight
to Johannesburg with only minutes to spare. I was so hot and bothered by the
time I boarded the plane, I slept soundly all the way. I am not sure I ever
woke up. “We have just passed over the Limpopo,” a female pilot
announced on the short onward flight from Johannesburg to Livingstone next morning.
A little later, she came on air again: “In a few minutes, the Victoria
Falls will be visible to the left…” The plane dipped, the wing tipped
and I duly gaped down at a wide river dropping into a great gouge across the
earth, filled with mist and rainbows. “Scenes so lovely must have been
gazed upon by angels in their flight,” Livingstone famously wrote in 1855.
But only, I reflected smugly, those angels like me lucky enough to have window
seats on the left hand side of the plane.
It did not matter, then, that my suitcase failed to show up. With nothing but
a soapbag and handful of books, I cleared Zambian customs - “Your case
will surely come tomorrow, Madam” - and was soon lunching on a wooden
deck over the Zambezi river, a few miles upstream from the Falls. The rocks
in the water below lurched and bellowed. I rubbed my eyes. They twitched their
ears. It was one o’clock on Friday afternoon and I was already seeing
hippos.
The Tongabezi Lodge is itself a dream.
Hidden among the reeds and gnarled trees that line the Zambezi’s banks,
accommodation is in individual thatched cottages which all have attractive names
and stand on heavily camouflaged raised platforms affording private panoramas
over a wide expanse of the river. It is curious to think that the water flowing
so peacefully and unwittingly past will shortly drop over one of the world’s
greatest falls. I was put up in the Dog House down a long winding path at the
far end of the property. To get to my room I had the pleasant sensation of striding
through the bush like an intrepid Victorian explorer. Here I washed in an enormous
copper bath out in the open and slept in a great mahogany bed shrouded in mosquito
nets, while my own pair of noisy hippos wallowed and hurrumphed in the waters
below and troops of chattering velvet monkeys occasionally came to call. When
a lion roared on the opposite bank that evening, setting off every wild dog
and baboon in the area, it was hard to believe that 24 hours before, I had been
stuck in London traffic.
Later that afternoon I went back into Livingstone to buy a change of clothes.
The town was founded in 1905 (when it moved from its original malaria-ridden
site right beside the river) and centenary celebrations are being held throughout
this year which makes it a good time to come (www.livingstone-zambia.com). The
wide main thoroughfare leading directly to the Falls whose mist spray is visible
in the distance, is lined by mango trees, a 1930s cinema, a derelict hotel that
would not be out of place in Edwardian London, and a charming museum full of
archaeological artefacts and a collection of items belonging to David Livingstone.
His beautifully preserved coat, original letters, medicine bag and penknife
are all lovingly displayed.
I could not resist taking a quick look at the Falls that evening but then returned
next morning to walk the path that runs the whole length of the cliff directly
opposite the seething curtain of water. The Falls are actually split up into
a series of waterfalls whose exact positions shift with the changes in water
flow throughout the year. My guide was assiduous in pointing out the Devil’s
Cataract, that the Boiling Cauldron but all I recall of my geography lesson
is that I got very wet. Umbrellas and raincoats are available for hire, and
afford a little modesty, but provide scarcely any protection against the high
pressure hose trained on you throughout the walk. The noise of the cascading
water (“every second, enough to supply the whole of Johannesburg for six
months, tips over the edge”) is deafening. I am not sure now how I managed
to cross the tiny narrow bridge slung between two of the gorges but it was a
strange sensation to stand directly above a perfect rainbow arching far below.
How anyone bungee jumps off the great suspension bridge over the main gorge
that goes into Zimbabwe, I do not know. How they built the bridge in the first
place is also a mystery but I did notice that everyone I met who said they had
made the thousand metre jump, also confessed that they would never repeat the
exercise.
Lunch on Livingstone Island, the small island right in the middle of the lip,
where David Livingstone first viewed the Falls, was daring enough for me. The
speed boat taking me there launched full pelt through the rapids towards the
very brink before turning abruptly at the last minute to deposit me on a sandy
bank. No permanent structures are allowed here so the restaurant was a tent
under which I sat and ate within feet of water flowing fast and furiously towards
the great chasm close by. Then, having feasted on what must be one of the most
spectacular views on earth (the food was delicious but I have no idea now what
I ate), I was lead through lush emerald green rain-forest vegetation, dripping
with rain and squelching underfoot – not surprisingly, there are plant
species here that occur nowhere else on earth - to play stepping stones over
chunky basalt rocks which were alarmingly slippery and set between fast flowing
water. We took it in turns to stand right on the very lip of the Falls. I looked
down to see a horizontal rainbow completely encircling my legs.
Near the Falls is a small game park packed with animals, so used to visitors
they amble close to cars and pose for pictures. Those with time to go on safari
would probably disdain the Mosi-oa-Tunya National Park as little more than a
free range zoo. It houses Zambia’s only white rhinos and is very handy
for a weekender. When other travellers tell their tales round the Tongabezi
camp fire at night, or on the London Underground next morning, you can mention
those white rhinos and hold your own.
Fact File:
Abercrombie & Kent
(0845 0700611) offers four nights at Tongabezi on a full board basis including
international flights with BA and transfers from £1198 per person based
on two people sharing.
Sunday Telegraph
April 24 2005