Lower Zambezi Canoe Trip

The biggest adventure of our trip was a three-day canoe trip down the Lower Zambezi. Judith had planned this for the three of us, but after her monkey bite at Chimfunshi, she had to fly to South Africa for a rabies shot instead. We were all hugely disappointed that she wouldn't be going with us, but we agreed that her getting rabies would be even more of a bummer.

So while Judith flew to Johannesburg, Mike drove us the two hours to Chirundu, a small village on the Zimbabwe border, where we were to meet up with our tour at the Zambezi Breezers Lodge.

Day 1

When we got to the lodge, we were suprised to find that we were the tour. Kate and I would be in one canoe, and our guide, Timon, in the other. It crossed my mind that maybe we were the only ones fool enough to do such a thing. Three days canoeing through hippo-and-croc-infested waters with someone whom we knew absolutely nothing about, hours from the nearest hospital.

I gave Kate a sidelong glance as we waved to the cloud dust blooming behind Mike's car. "It'll be fine," she mouthed to me, and fortunately, she was right. Our paddling skills were a little rusty, as we headed out around the first hippo pod, but it didn't take long for us to get our river legs, and even less time to feel at ease with Timon. Timon had grown up in the region and had been guiding Zambezi trips for 11 years. He was quiet and unassuming, incredibly knowledgable, and very safety-conscious. He kept a careful lookout for hippos and crocs, and he could name and imitate the sounds of every bird we spotted.

Almost immediately we came upon an elephant, then another, and another. We could glide right up to where they were munching grass on island banks. Once we came up so close to a group that we startled them, and two fanned their ears and faked a charge at us. I paddled backwards in alarm, but Timon assured us that elephants were slow in water and wouldn't harm us. They just needed to assert themselves.

The sun was brutal, and we'd launched at midday. Even lathered with 50 SPF sunscreen, we were starting to burn after a couple of hours. So we stopped for lunch and midday break on a high bank overlooking the river. Timon set up a small table and stools for us, a jug of ice water, and set out the fixings for ham and cheese sandwiches. We munched slowly as we took in the view. Fishermen in dugout canoes on one side and on the other, a large herd of elephants, slowly making their way through the marsh and across the river channel to our side.

After a rest we paddled a few more hours, exploring the quieter channels when we could. The Zambezi is huge, wide as a lake in many places, but we saw almost no one. A few whites in speedboats. Locals in dugouts. And not a single other fool in a canoe.

Canoeing is such a different experience. So peaceful, and your vulnerability gives you a much more intimate interaction with nature. On the banks, we had to stay 15 feet clear of the water at all times (other than getting in and out of the canoe) because of crocodiles. And we kept a careful eye for snakes, but never saw a one.

When the sun was low, we set up camp on one of the grassy islands. Timon had just set up tea for us when he noticed a small "bachelor herd" of elephants (judging by the "fifth leg" as Timon explained) maybe a hundred yards away, grazing in the higher grass. While Timon made dinner for us (a delicious spicy stew) we had our teatime, then dinner, keeping a watchful on eye them. At dusk, when they approached cautiously, apparently wanting our beach access to the water, Timon scared them back by banging pot lids and waving arms. "Elephants are actually quite timid most of the time," he assured us. "It's the hippos you've got to watch out for."

As we prepared for bed in our mesh tent, Timon explained, "At night the hippos will come on shore to graze. And the elephants might come back. But don't be alarmed, they won't bother you. Just stay in the tent, and if you have to go to the bathroom, go right outside the tent. You might hear lions or hyenas, but they won't come onto the island."

We were just getting ready to drift off when Timon spoke to us from his own tent. "One more thing I forgot. Please put your valuables in between you and move things away from the sides of the tent. Those fishermen in the dugout canoes, sometimes they will come and try to steal things from the tourists. They'll use a knife to cut the tent. So if you hear anything that sounds like a person, not a hippo or elephant, call out to me and I'll scare them away."

Great. "Uh, Timon? Do you have a gun?"

"No, but they don't know that."

Needless to say, I didn't get a lot of sleep that first night. I listened to rustling and munching and snorting through the moonless night and wondered how good an elephant's night vision was. I kept my ears perked for smaller, sneakier footsteps. "How on earth are we supposed to get any rest?" I whispered to Kate. But she was already fast asleep, her arms and legs wrapped around our packs like a body pillow.

Day 2

But the time daylight came, I was ready to stop pretending to sleep. The morning light was incredible, pink clouds in the sky, the hills and sand glowing gold. The sun came up over the exact crest of a mountain -- the deepest red circle raking through naked trees. The African sun I'd seen in photos.

Breakfast was a quick biscuit and tea so we could get an early start before the sun and wind kicked in full force. Timon had us packed up and on the water by 6:00. Those morning hours were the most beautiful and peaceful hours of the trip. The low sun glimmering on the water. No one else in the world but us. And the hippos, grunting and chuckling all around us.

Now hippos scare me. They are the number one cause of animal-related deaths in Zambia. Not especially vicious as a group, if they're startled, feel trapped, or are just in a bad mood that day, they've been known to bite a canoe (or person) in half. Stories like these had me pretty anxious around every pod (and believe me, they were everywhere), but Timon was an expert at spotting them and was very good at leading us clear around them.

It was mid-morning when a strong headwind kicked in and we had no choice but to tack across the wide river. The water was choppy with whitecaps, making it nearly impossible to spot hippos. And the wind was so fierce it took all we had to make our way to the other side. I wished we had stopped to put on our life jackets and put my camera away. Finally on an island bank, we ate sandwiches and waited out the wind.

It did calm down eventually, at least enough to get back on the river. Even with the wind, it was incredibly hot (around 104 F), and when Timon led us into a shallow channel and suggested that we "swim" in the Mana Pools section of the river, we were thrilled. "What about crocodiles?" I asked. Till now we'd been cautioned not to even trail a hand in the water. But Timon insisted it was safe. "When crocodiles attack, they roll their prey underwater to drown it. They know better than to go after a human on a wide sandbar."

A crocodile could still do a lot of damage without drowning a person. But I was way too hot to argue. And when Timon doused himself in the shallow water, it was only a moment before Kate and I followed suit. Water never felt so good. Afterwards we shooed away a herd of elephants from the nearby bank and set up our matts for a little rest.

Later in the afternoon, the wind was calmer, and we paddled close to the shore past straw hut villages where women were washing laundry in the river while children bathed. Branches stuck in the mud created crocodile-free bathing areas. It was amazing to see how these people lived here with so little. A small grass hut. Tiny gardens (often trampled by elephants). And whatever fish they can catch. Although they were wary of us white tourists, they called and waved to Timon.

When we came to the island where we were to camp, there was a huge pod of fiesty hippos between us and the shore. We had to make our way cautiously along the bank around them. "Do not panic," Timon warned us. "Just paddle slowly this way." And we were doing pretty good until three or four of the hippos raised up out of the water, gave a huge snorty roar and started swimming at us, and when I twisted around to check on them, I ended up ramming our canoe into the bank.

"I think I'm panicking!" I cried. The canoe turned itself backwards, but Timon instructed us to keep paddling until we could grab onto his canoe and be guided past the hippos safely in general "wussie style."

That large pod of hippos kept us company all night. They watched the sunset with us (their heads all lifted and turned toward the sun). And at night they came onto the land (with loud whooshing splashes) and munched the grass until dawn. Their grunting, snorting, and huffing serenaded us through the next morning.

Day 3

We only had a short way to go on our third day, so we took our time in the morning. I wrote in my journal and watched the sunrise. Kate took photos of hippos and birds. Timon was cooking a full bacon-and-egg breakfast when we all noticed a man standing further down the island. He didn't approach us, but kept a respectful distance. Was this one of those robber fisherman Timon had warned us about? Timon didn't think so, and he went to go see what he wanted. "If he's hungry," I said, "I think you've made plenty of breakfast to share."

Timon came back with the young fisherman who was very grateful to sit down with us for breakfast. He couldn't speak any English, but he did all the dishes afterwards, then left and came back with a large tiger fish to trade for extra vegetables and bread. Since this was our last day, Timon had plenty to spare.

After a late start, we had only been on the river a couple of hours when the wind kicked in again. Not wanting a repeat of yesterday's struggle, we pulled over to the bank to wait it out. We were only an hour shy of our destination, and when the wind got stronger, Kate and I suggested we call it a day. Timon texted the motorboat driver who was scheduled to transport us back. (Amazing that cell phones work out there, when I can't even get mine to work at our local grocery store.) We emptied the canoes and stashed them high on the bank for later pickup.

On the two-hour ride back, we were able to get close enough to hippos and crocs to actually get some decent photos (instead of digging my paddle into the water and trying not to panic). We even took a slight detour to check out some elephants on the other side of the river, actually setting foot in Zimbabwe to try to get a better view. (A big no-no.) Apparently Zimbabwe, in fierce competition with Zambia for tourism, insists that Zambian tours stay on their half of the river and will demand money if you step onto their land or paddle too close to their shore.

We arrived back at the Zambezi Breezers Lodge three hours early, but we were happy to sit and rest in the shade until Mike came to get us. They even had showers we could use to get off the first couple layers of river dirt.

What a trip. An amazing and exhilarating adventure. We came back exhausted, but absolutely satisfied. Only sad that we couldn't have shared it with our pal, Judith.