Near Death at the Midnight Diner and Turmoil in the Washing Machine

After treating ourselves in a big city, it was time to move on, a little rendition of the littlest hobo and then it was packs on backs and off to the bus stop. We arrived far too early and were rewarded by being upgraded to the earlier bus. This is quite unusual as we try and arrive just in time knowing in Africa buses never, ever leave on time and usually take a few hours after departure time to fill. We arrived later that day after a very pleasant journey in Livingstone. Every backpacker that goes through Africa will go to Livingstone, its some archaic law or something, you feel it in your blood, calling. We saw our first white person within minutes of getting off the bus. Due to the masses of backpackers, there is a thriving taxi industry here, we estimated there were more taxis in Livingstone than the whole of Zambia (we never used one because we are hardcore backpackers, or tight, your pick). Livingstone is quite a small town, only one major road through it, a small market, a museum to Mr Livingstone and liberally sprinkled with lodges and adventure companies. Livingstone is the base for venturing out to Victoria Falls, bungee jumping, white water rafting, gorge swinging etc. We found the camp we were looking for, via a bar, just in time before a massive storm hit and drowned the streets. The following morning, we went to see the famous Victoria Falls, only a few km down the main road towards Zimbabwe. The falls are 1km wide and a few hundred meters high, and being the rainy season they were magnificent with the flooded Zambezi pouring at 5,000,000 litres a second off the top. The spray was everywhere, and hence water proofs were necessary to get within visual range. We watched from the Zambia side of falls, and ventured down the the Boiling Pot, a steep walk down the gorge to where the waters converge after the fall into the lower Zambezi. We spent the day exploring the various paths around the falls and up to the upper Zambezi where you can sit close to the edge. We also managed to walk into a middle of a pack of marauding baboons at one point, surrounded by them, taking absolutely no notice of us. From the falls you can see the the eXtreme sports, and we counted our cash, and decided what we wanted to do. I wanted to bungee but the cost was extortionate, thats my story and I am sticking to it. Joey wanted to take a canoe down the Zambezi, watching the wildlife, but after some convincing gave up the idea as not eXtreme enough. So we compromised on white water rafting. Now there ae two types of raft, you have the pro raft where you have a pro sit on the back with a large set of oars who basically controls the boat, or you have the ameteur boat, the one where the guide does nothing except right the raft when we capsize. We chose the later, as this would obviously be more 'fun'. We marched down the side of the gorge, with four other victims, to the lower Zambezi where the set of rapids started, and after some playing around in the boat, trying to point in the right direction the guide gave up on us and decided it was time to hit the rapids. We cruised out into the gorger which was stunning, sheer cliffs hundreds of meters high on either side. After the calm came the first rapid called Midnight Diner. A grade 5+, quite a biggy in other words. From the raft it looked enormous, a mass of white churning water. The guide said we need to go down the right of the main channel, which was a joke as we couldn't steer this boat for toffee. We hit the main channel nose on, and the very first wave we flipped head over heels, up went the bow, out we all popped and splash into the white water. I managed to somehow keep a hold of the boat, Joey on the other hand had disappeared, I looked all round trying to see where in the mass of white water she was, when out pops her head about 25m back. I only saw her head for half a second before she was under again, but when i had seen her she did look awfully unwell. Over the next minute or so, I saw Jo appear above the water a few more time, each time looking a little worse for wear. Eventualy the rescue kayak managed to catch her and brought here to the boat. Jo was so disorientated by the experience she did not realise she was back at the boat and I had to grab here before she drifted off again. She looked at me, hacked up some water, coughed for a while before shouting 'That was bloody horrible!'. After safely making it back into the raft she told me how she was churned around, under the boat, popping out the back and then being dragged under, all before catching a breath. Only when she surfaced a while later did she catch half a breath and a lung full of Zambezi. The next rapid was far too dangerous, no one has successfully done it, so we walked around before getting back into the boat for the next 15 rapids. It became a pattern of the guide saying go left/right and we went right/left. Rapid after rapid we flipped, vertically, sideways, and my most memorable being where the raft collapsed in half width ways, popping me and another out of the middle into the Washing Machine. It certainly felt like one, when i had eventually surfaced I found myself in a different raft catching a ride. Jo was too busy waving to the camera on the gorge to notice I had disappeared! She was horrified when she spotted me gasping for air while being rescued by the other boat. I would certainly recommend white water rafting. Its a major buzz, and we and our crew gassed into the evening over some beers swapping our near death experiences. Altough the following day the bruises and aches came out big stylee. During our time in Livingstone we also met Alison (Spillage), Shorene (L'il Bugs) and Paul (Big Bugs). They had been managing a tourist lodge nearby and had rescued three adorable kittens, who were being donated to our camp as they had to hit the road. So we spent time at the camp playing with huckle, berry and finn. before making a decision whether to go to Zimbabwe, or Botswana.