No man’s land is always fun, those black holes of the world where you’re not officially in any country.
To my left, a sign welcomes me to Zambia. On my right, I’m welcomed to Zimbabwe, and somewhere below is the raging Zambezi River which separates the two nations.
But I can’t look down. The river is 111 metres below, to be precise, and I’m stood on a bridge with a bungy cord attached to my ankles.
As I stand on the platform, a rainbow attempts to soothe me, the multiple colours spinning almost 360 degrees, hanging in the air above the river. We must be a kilometre from Victoria Falls, yet its spray sails over my head to produce this visual pacifier.
I’m lost in my nerves, concentrating on the magical colours, trying not to look at the rampaging scene of death that will surely devour me when I jump off this platform.
Five, four, three... wait, stop, I can’t do this. But my legs don’t move and the countdown culminates in a hearty push from behind.
The rainbow has gone and my hands scramble for a hold as the river hurtles towards me and I’m screaming, a peculiar sound that can’t possibly be me, and two hours later, when I’m visiting the falls, I’m still shaking.
Waterfalls can be higher, wider and longer. But Victoria Falls are officially the most powerful in the world. It’s estimated that 1,000 tonnes of water drop over the edge every second.
I could hear the roar 10 kilometres away, the water dropping 108 metres and then rising almost double that as it sprays back up. Now it’s rising above the viewing ledge and pouring down on me. Within seconds I’m drenched, the droplets humongous, the intensity unrelenting. It’s like standing underneath a fire hose. And it doesn’t stop, once underneath it carries on raining.
I go by kayak, watching hippos wade into the shallow water, their big, cuddly frames disguising a real danger
Occasionally I find cover under trees, dry space where I can admire the falls. It more than deserves its place as one of the world’s new seven wonders, but it’s the voice of nature that supports its inclusion.
Surely nothing else in the world is capable of such a blatant and unruly show of power.
Stepping out above the Zambezi, once more I’m on a knife-edge bridge surrounded by the voice of nature that makes me feel so insignificant, so irrelevant in our world.
The Zambezi River separates Zambia and Zimbabwe, half of the falls lying within each country’s territory.
While we need passports, the sneaky baboons run around unopposed, chasing tourists with crisp packets and stealing traffic cones – food bribes must be paid to get them back. They hiss and snarl, and they’re not confined by the region’s claim to fame.
Victoria Falls is besides a crossroads, the only place in the world where four different countries meet.
Livingstone in Zambia is the main tourist base, a town with a deserved reputation for being Africa’s capital of adrenalin.
It offers all kind of nerve-jangling activities, yet the town has the relaxed feeling of a rural village. It’s the perfect antidote: go crazy in the day before soothing your soul in the evening.
From Livingstone, cross the bridge to Zimbabwe, where youngsters peddle Zim $20 trillion notes, or head west to Namibia’s Caprivi strip. I decide to follow the migrating elephants, across and west to Botswana and Chobe National Park.
At first I go by kayak, watching hippos wade into the shallow water, their big, cuddly frames disguising a real danger.
Crocodiles lurk beside the shore, swimming in the shallows and sunbathing under the intense sun. But the romance of my kayak is lost when we have to disembark on the Zambian side and take one of the official border crossing boats.
I can see the elephants already, hanging around barely 100 metres from the border. They’re migrating south, coming from Congo, Central Africa and Zambia for water.
Road signs warn of their presence, and huge tracks of uprooted vegetation are the landscape’s stand-out feature.
The rainbow has gone and my hands scramble for a hold as the river hurtles towards me and I’m screaming... two hours later, when I’m visiting the falls, I’m still shaking
Inside the park they’re innumerable, with hundreds and thousands filling my vision. At first I’m snap happy, delighted at coming within five metres of their immense frames.
But gradually familiarity sets in, and our safari truck stops only to get up close and personal with cute babies or giant herds.
The Chobe has dense vegetation, dirt tracks slowly curving through shrubbery and forest. Heads peer over the trees, inquisitive shocks of yellow munching away.
Easily spotted from a distance, the giraffes are as innumerable as the elephants, casually eating their way through life. They’re simple, elegant creatures, waltzing between a feast of greenery. Hippos have also come to the party, chilling in the Zambezi before coming out at night to munch on the sandy grassland.
But where are the predators? They tell me lions are here, and leopards, but the only sign of their presence is a concentration of vultures circling above the woodland, indicating a partly devoured carcass.
When we set up camp in the park, I’m convinced it’s all a booby trap, an open invitation to ensure big cat sightings. And I’m right, as the guide points out leopard footprints just metres from my tent the following morning. We’re on prowl at sunrise, hoping to catch them before the daytime sun has them retreating underneath trees, but the most sought-after safari sightings are not playing ball.
Still, the elephants continue, a new day bringing fresh delight. We take it easy, resting for half an hour beside a water hole to admire their interaction. A gang of warthogs tries to access the water and a two-week-old elephant is charged with keeping them at bay.
It’s a relaxed end to this adventure in a small part of Africa, one remarkably different from the nerve-wrecking platform three days ago.
Adrenalin, animals, natural wonder and odd passport stamps? While the Victoria Falls is the most famous attraction, its location allows the classic African experience to be explored in just a few days.
Returning to the crossroads, I’m full of excited nerves once more; should I try Namibia or Zimbabwe?