Victoria Falls from Zimbabwe.

At 0600 I’m picked up for the short ride to the border. It’s early; the driver tells me the border doesn’t open until 0700. We’ll drive slowly slowly.

I arrived in Kasane the day before on a flight from Maun, a quick 45-minute jaunt over the veldt. Arriving at the airport I was taken to my lodge, on the banks of the Chobe River. On the other side, a narrow strip of Namibia.

I didn’t do much in Kasane. It was a stopover on the way to Victoria Falls. I sat by the pool writing post cards, chatting with fellow travelers. In the evening, I watched the sun set over the river.

To get from Botswana to Zambia I booked a tour of Victoria Falls. I’ll be picked up at the lodge and driven to the border and then across Zimbabwe to the falls. After touring the Zimbabwean side of the falls, I’ve arranged to meet Dani in the town of Victoria Falls to join her tour of Angel Falls. The tour ends in Zambia, after which I’ll either hitch-hike or call a cab to reach my accommodations outside of Livingstone. It’ll be an active day.

Kasane is asleep. The streets are empty and there are few lights illuminating the streets. We pass shops and a mall and gas stations as we creep east.

Soon the border is in sight. But just as we’re about to reach it a large herd of African buffalo begins to cross the street. There must be over one hundred. The driver tells me it’s a breeding herd. They’ve spent the night by the river and now are heading into the bush to feed. We wait patiently for them to pass, and here, at the border, I’m seeing more buffalo in the span of minutes than I’ve seen the entire time I was in the Delta.

The Botswanan side of the border is open and my passport is stamped quickly. We drive through no-man’s land to the Zimbabwean border. I stand outside with one other individual. One minute, a man tells me as he prepares for the day. He opens drawers, readies papers, cleans the office.

When it’s my turn at the window he asks me for $30US for the visa. I ask him if he takes credit cards. Do you have cash? I had him a $50US bill. He asks me for my credit card.

The driver helps me unload his van and load me into another. Ntokozo will drive me through Zambezi National Park to Victoria Falls where she’ll double as my guide. It’s rare to see a female driver, and she tells me that there are currently programs to encourage women to enter historically male-dominated industries.

She tells me she used to be a high school science teacher but switched jobs because the money is better. She also enjoys meeting people and chatting with them. I ask her how she came to be a science teacher. She tells me she loves animals and originally wanted to be a vet. Unfortunately, the

She tells me the unemployment rate is high but the country has 90% literacy rate. I ask her what the future holds. She’s uncertain.

The morning is beautiful, there’s not a cloud in the sky. I ask her if she sees animals when she drives through the park. She tells me she saw a few this morning on the way to pick me up. We don’t see any on our way to the falls.

We park at a lot across from the entrance to the falls. A man offers to rent me a poncho but I have a waterproof jacket. Ntokozo leads me to the entrance and down a path to the first view point. The park is beautifully preserved, the path well-maintained. We’re one of the first to arrive and it feels as though we have the falls to ourselves.

Ntokozo pauses at our first viewpoint and I’m granted my first sight of the falls. The water thunders down into the chasm sending a huge spray of mist into the air. What does it look like, she asks me, pointing to the cloud above the falls. Like Africa, I tell her. She smiles and nods. Yes. It’s Africa.

We continue on to the end of the path and watch as the river plunges over the cliffs. The sound of it impacting the ground below thunders in my ears.

A statue of Livingstone stands in a small plaza and I pause to take a photo before being led on.

The path winds along the Zimbabwean side of the falls, with views towards Zambia. For almost the length of the walk we have views of the falls, either from unobstructed viewpoints or through the trees.

Lush forest grows around us, shielding us from the spray. Sunlight filters through the leaves, dappling the round pebbles that make up the path.

When we get close to the falls, my view is full of spray. I don my rain jacket to keep myself dry as the mist clouds my vision, blocking the sight of the falls as it rises from the abyss.

Against the falls, the other visitors are tiny specks that dot the landscape. A group of Asian tourists has arrived and we find ourselves leapfrogging each other as we walk from point to point.

Towards the end we see the bridge that connects Zimbabwe and Zambia. In the middle a small building has been set up for bungee jumpers to prepare for their plunge.

Walking further we are presented views of Boiling Pot where a small shed had been set up to offer abseiling down the cliff face to the bottom.

As Ntokozo guides me out of the park we catch a glimpse of wildlife, a bushbuck hiding in the trees.

Outside the park I climb into Ntokozo’s van and we drive to her office in the town to figure out where I’m to be dropped off. She learns that there are others being picked up at a nearby hotel and she offers to drive me there to facilitate the transfer.

At the hotel she waits with me and we chat about her family and the season ahead. Soon a man arrives and leads me to a large bus. After I’ve sat down Dani and her family board. Her daughter is surprised to see me. I guess you didn’t tell her, I say to Dani. She smiles and we hug.

The bus drives us across the border and to the launching point for our trip to Angel’s Pool. The water level is too high now to venture to Devil’s Pool. We are given life jackets and I rent water shoes. A safety briefing follows and we’re asked to sign waivers before boarding a boat that takes us to Livingstone Island where the pool sits.

A guide leads us to the pool and helps us to the edge, taking numerous pictures of us as we post at the precipice. Another guide holds onto our feet. The photographer judiciously crops him out of the picture.

A plaque of David Livingstone sits near the pool and I stop to take a photo as we exit the pool and head back to lunch.

Lunch is served on the island in a covered dining area overlooking the falls. Dani and I catch up on the past few days and chat about the days ahead, once again seeing where we might meet again on the road. We sip gin and tonics as the afternoon wanes.

Back on shore a van waits to pick them up. I ask about taxis, but a man tells me he will take me to my lodge. He’s come to pick up other guests to take them to a hotel near mine and will help me complete my trip. I hug Dani and wave goodbye to her family and their friends and climb into the truck.

Along the way we spy elephants by the side of the road. They’re just down from the hill from the road, slowly moving through the grass as they feed.

At the lodge I’ve booked a garden room but ask if they have anything by the river. The manager has a look and tells me they do. It’ll be a little more than I had originally intended to spend, but having now seen the river I want to stay as close to it as I can.

That night I eat at the hotel restaurant, ordering a pizza while I watch the sun set. Hippos call from the opposite river bank and boats head up and then down the river on sunset cruises.

As I gaze out over the river I think about my day and everything that I’ve done: waking up in Botswana; spending the morning touring the falls in Zimbabwe, the afternoon with Dani and her family in Zambia; eating dinner by the Zambezi in Zambia. It’s practically a dream; I almost can’t believe that it’s real. 🇿🇲