Water. Not the first thing that comes to mind when you think of Zambia — it’s a landlocked country, after all, with the nearest stretch of coast 1,000 km away. But memories of my trip there are going to be dominated by it. From mist rising off glassy patches of river in the morning sun, to the noise and spray of Victoria Falls, there’s one reason: The Zambezi.
Lusaka, the country’s unglamorous capital, may feel like a long way from the river that gives Zambia its name, but it’s the best base for any traveler here. Six hours by road to the south-west lies Mosi-oa-Tunya (“The smoke that thunders” — the name for Victoria Falls in Lozi); three hours to the south-west are the altogether calmer delights of the lower Zambezi.
I decide to head south-west first. My host, Katy, an adoptive Lusakan, is used to the Zambian roads, and in a 4x4 we set off for Kanyemba lodge for the weekend. The first 150 km or so of road are extremely smooth. After that, it turns into a dirt track and we have to take a pontoon to cross the Kafue — the croc-infested tributary that gives us our first taste of river country. After a boneshaking half an hour or so, we’re there — on the green banks of the Zambezi itself.
It’s vast — more than three times as wide as the Thames in central London — and separates Zambia from neighboring Zimbabwe. We dump our bags in one of six thatched rondavels and walk down to the terrace. There, a motorboat awaits us. We climb aboard and sit in canvas chairs.
The boat glides out across the river, making for the opposite bank. In between are reed-covered islands and sandbanks. Apart from the hum of the motor, the only sounds are the breeze in the grass and the odd exotic birdcall. After the past few days of airport waiting rooms and transfers, I finally feel as though I’ve arrived. One of our party spots the first big animal — we are on a kind of safari, after all — and it’s a huge, mean-looking crocodile, about 10 meters away from us on the edge of one of the islets. Suddenly, it flicks itself into the river, the flash of its tail the last thing we see. There’ll be no dangling of fingers in the water on this trip.
On the sandy cliffs that form the Zimbabwean bank, emerald-green bee-eaters perch outside their nests. Herons, ibises, egrets, they’re all here, and if I was a birdwatcher I would probably have already fainted with excitement. As it is, I’m content to watch the pods of hippos — there seem to be hundreds — and listen to them as they grunt to mark out their territory. There are also elephants, of course, which regularly swim to the islands in search of fresh vegetation. Because you’re on the water, and not in danger of being charged, you can get much closer than on land. And the elephants don’t seem to mind — they just carry on munching.
After watching the sunset, followed by a spectacular moonrise, we return to the lodge in time for dinner, cooked by the chef, Eddison, before choosing our activities for the following day. From a choice of canoeing, walking safaris and village trips, we settle on an excursion to the lower Zambezi national park — an hour and a half downriver. That means an early start, but it gives us the chance to see the river at its most beautiful, as the first rays of sun warm the surface and send wisps of vapor into the still-freezing air.
The park is sandwiched between the hills of the Zambezi escarpment and the river itself. It is home to lions, leopards and buffaloes as well as plenty of hippos, impala and baboons. There are elephants, too, but, sadly, the park managers are currently struggling to deal with a serious poaching problem. The night before our visit another had been shot. Between April and mid-July this year, 17 were killed in the park — the highest level of poaching in recent memory. The guides blame a surge in demand for ivory being used to supply the Chinese medicine trade.
The next day we laze around before getting Riccardo, the Italian-Zambian owner of the lodge, to show us his latest project — the Kanyemba bushcamp, which (despite the name) is definitely aimed at the higher end of the market. It’s located on an island that was once a holding place for captives in the Indian Ocean slave trade and, if you can put that grisly fact out of your mind, it’s hard to imagine a more luxurious back-to-nature experience. The chalet we saw was like a tree house with a five-star bedroom attached. There’s even a bath and power shower with a view out over the reeds. After the stillness of the Lower Zambezi, next up is Victoria Falls, some 500 km upstream. To get there you have to travel back to Lusaka (it would be nice to go by river, but one of the world’s largest dams — the Kariba — blocks the way).
After that it’s an hour’s flight or about six hours’ coach drive to Livingstone, a town named in honor of the first European to set eyes on the falls 150 years ago.
Vic Falls is, of course, firmly on the tourist map and as a result there’s a wider range of places to stay, from the backpacker hostel of choice, Fawlty Towers, to the five-star Royal Livingstone. The conventional wisdom says that the falls are better from the Zimbabwean side — here, again, the Zambezi forms the border between the two countries — but when you’re right in front of the gigantic sheets of water, getting soaked and enjoying the sight of double rainbows, you’re unlikely to feel short-changed.
The remarkable thing about the falls is that, right until it tips over the edge, the Zambezi is still that calm, wide, island-dotted river. And then it plunges into a narrow gorge and changes character completely. To fully appreciate it, don’t just walk along the ridge that faces the falls — go down to the “boiling pot” to see what happens when this huge body of water is forced into a channel only 50 meters wide. This is the roaring, white-water Zambezi, and there are no lazy hippos here.
Back in Lusaka, I’m left to consider the relative merits of the two faces of this great river. The falls might be one of those see-before-you-die sights. I couldn’t have visited Zambia and not gone. But the magic of Kanyemba was something totally unexpected, and for that reason, when it comes to watery experiences, the lower Zambezi wins hands down.
