Victoria Falls, on the border of Zimbabwe and Zambia, is a breathtaking natural world wonder. Having witnessed sunset from viewpoints along the top of the gorge, I also wanted to really interact with the waterfall. Not to be put off by its slightly dubious name, I decided to visit the Boiling Pot, a natural pool at the bottom of the Falls. As everyone around me signed up for rafting and paragliding, the Boiling Pot seemed like a safe and undemanding way to experience the Falls. However, the day did not go the way I expected.
The Descent
Keen to avoid the heat of the day, three friends and I set off early in the morning. The first thing our guide did was fit us with helmets, life jackets and an oar. I’d been under the impression we were headed to splash around in a shallow pool, especially due to it being dry season, but this kit soon set me straight.
It had also not occurred to me that we would have to get to the bottom of the gorge somehow. “Somehow” turned out to be a series of metal ladders and staircases down the side of the cliff. Some of them were nearly vertical and I clambered down slowly, gripping my oar and grateful for my helmet. I had been sitting on an overland truck for 5 weeks and my legs were shaking with this sudden exercise.
Once we reached the riverbank we edged along the shore, passing a series of rapids tumbling down the river. Eventually we reached an inflatable raft, and we paddled up the Zambezi to the Boiling Pot.
As we rounded the corner we saw the Falls properly for the first time. It was still early, and there was a vast rainbow low in the mist blocking the whole gorge. I’d now appreciated the Falls at sunset and sunrise; the way the light created rainbows in the mist at both times of day was equally stunning.
After debarking from the raft, we tore our eyes from the rainbow to scramble over the boulders separating the Boiling Pot from the rest of the river. This involved leaping from rock to rock and squeezing through holes, decked in nothing but our bikinis and lifejackets. The entire descent was far more physical than I had anticipated, but upon reaching the Boiling Pot it became worth it.
The boiling pot
Having attended more than a few game drives while in East Africa, I’ll admit I was expecting the Boiling Pot to resemble a shallow watering hole. In reality it was a ginormous natural pool, surrounded by rocks, with its own waterfall. The pool was still, the only ripples emanating from where the waterfall met the water. As it was still early we had the entire thing to ourselves.
The large boulders heaped around the pool prevented it from being visible from the main Zambezi River. My more adventurous friend convinced me to jump off the rocks into the water; it was surprisingly cold and deep. Startled, I accidentally swallowed some of the water—it actually tasted great!
I can understand why the Boiling Pot would be inaccessible in the rainy season; even in low season the pool was deep and the waterfall had a lot of force. We dived under the waterfall, allowing the Zambezi to take our breath away as it cascaded over us. We floated on our backs in our oasis of calm away from the main tourism of Victoria Falls. We even persuaded our lovely guide to humour us with a photoshoot while we had the pool to ourselves. It was so peaceful and private; I felt like we were the only people that knew it was there.
The Ascent
The sun rose higher over the Zambia side of the gorge, light stretching slowly across the Boiling Pot, and we decided to make our way back. My damp feet dried quickly as I clambered over the boulders, which were now hot from the sun.
As my friends stepped back aboard our raft, I paused to watch a nearby boatful of people prepare for white water rafting. They had orders to follow, and were practicing being thrown over and hauled back in. There was also a kayaker hovering nearby, ready to scoop them back into the raft if they got swept away by the rapids.
One of the reasons I’d chosen to visit the Boiling Pot was to interact with the Falls without any danger. White water rafting is something I’d always wanted to try, but, knowing me, I’d spend the whole time worrying so much I wouldn’t enjoy the experience.
“Could we white water raft back?” my friend Kelsea asked our guide jokingly as I stepped into the raft.
“OK!” he replied happily.
Before I’d really registered what was happening, we were heading towards the rapids. Two of my friends looked as stunned as I did, but luckily Kelsea’s enthusiasm was infectious and emboldened me not to pipe up in objection.
The first rapid approached so fast I didn’t have time to feel nervous. We paddled right into the middle of it; it was pretty terrifying watching the walls of water meet and crash in front of our faces, and it seemed to stretch ahead of us forever.
To my left, one of my friends was already curled in the brace position. I focused all my energy on not falling out—I definitely didn’t want to be the only one to go overboard, especially as we had no kayak to scoop us up again.
Eventually the water became calmer and we exited the rapid, soaking wet but still onboard. No sooner had we caught our breath than the next rapid loomed, smaller, but still formidable. Two channels of water met in the middle of the river, creating a break as they smashed together, and it was straight into this that we paddled. I clutched my oar as if it were my lifeline, and once again we made it out the other side intact.
I suddenly began to feel more confident. We hadn’t capsized. I reckoned I could do this. Bring on the Class 5 rapids!
Unfortunately—and to my utmost relief—we had reached the ladder to ascend the gorge. Disembarking from our trusty raft, I felt pretty invincible. Never mind that we had a steep, vertical climb ahead of us—I had just white water rafted down the Zambezi River, with no preparation whatsoever! I had wanted an interaction with the Falls, and they had not disappointed.
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