High Adrenalin - Vic Falls Antics - 15 July 2002

Oooooh ya bugger
Booze Blues.
Sccchwingggg

Oooooh ya bugger

I insisted that we had a bit of a wild time in Vic Falls. I mean it would be mad for us to travel all the way down Africa and miss out on the mad activities that are available here. We mulled over he options. The white water rafting is apparently not that good as the water is too high at the moment. Microliting, helicopters and all that jazz were out of the question. We were left with the possible ennui of a booze cruise at cheap rates and gorge swinging and other activities at a considerable higher fee.

Booze Blues.

We opted to take both on. I reckoned that as the booze cruise was payable in Zim currency I would be able to drink value for money whether we saw the promised hippos and crocs or not. We met a charming couple of English/Canadians who were over for a short break and regrettably (for them) got embroiled in something of a teacher moan. ìBloody kids of todayî etc. They humoured us and did their share of drink ordering and so all was well. There was one croc and one hippo.

Back at the camp and fuelled with the alcohol that we managed to get through, Hippy pointed out a warthog in the camp (she is now equipped with super game spotting skills and detected it merely by the snuffling sounds it was making. Oh, and nearly tripping over it.) She pointed this out to me and I of course assumed that this was one of those pink elephants that half cut folk are renowned to see. Of course, she was absolutely correct, but as I lurched over in greeting, it turned tail and fled. I wonder why. In the morning the lawn was somewhat messed up. Itís a good thing Blighty only has moles to worry about.

Poor Hippy went down with a stomach complaint. It must have been something she ate.

Sccchwingggg

Hung over, we traipsed into town and cautiously approached the booking agent for gorge swinging. We tried our usual hardest to get the price down but no joy was to be had. While making negotiations we asked whether they had an accompanying rate as Hippy was not too confident about some of the mad things that they offered. Obviously still drunk, she decided to commit to the full works. (Oh, I do slander the poor girl)

I have to confess that I spent the day thinking ëHelp, what have I let myself in for!í

We took an early night in preparation for our gravitation defying feats of the morrow.

Fred came to pick us up in the morning and arrived 15 minutes early. We were quite shocked as the morning tea had hardly filtered through to give us the pluck that we felt we needed. Hippy was busy with fitting disposable contact lenses having spent ages deciding which ocular approach to take; glasses, contacts, disposable contacts, prescription swimming goggles or nothing at all (so she would not be able to see the drop ergo would not be scared)

Everything was going fine as we passed into Zambia cost free and made our way to the side gorge off the Zambezi where our fate awaited us.

  1. Abseiling (backwards or normal if you prefer)
    Both of us have done it before. We shambled down with little grace but were not over daunted by the 100m drop.
    Piece of cake.

  2. High wire run (sitting down)
    Run off the edge of a cliff in a bosunís chair (OK proper harness really) and shoot across a wire run over the top of the gorge. Dangle around a bit and then get pulled back by some obliging helpers.
    Mildly stimulating.

  3. High wire run (superman position).
    Run off the edge of a cliff assuming that someone behind you has attached a harness correctly. Actually, hanging in the middle of a gorge looking at the view attached only by a couple of wires was amazingly relaxing.
    Getting there.

  4. Abseiling (face forwards SAS style).
    Gazing down the drop was not too terrifying, (Speak for yourself, walking face down over the edge; I was beginning to wish I had gone for the sightless option) Shuffling over the edge was tricky to say the least. Complete floundering display by Watty. Pretty convincing performance from Hippy.
    Got the pulse going a bit.

  5. Complete and utter madness.
    We decided that we would give each other moral support for this one and opted for a tandem approach. OK so there you are arms around each others waists and clinging grimly to a loose line attached to your harness. You back up to the edge of a platform perched over the top of a vertical precipice. Toes only resting on the edge of said platform, you fall over backwards and freefall for fifty five metre upside down (Pat confessed to my afterwards that he had his eyes shut, as for me it was a complete panic blank), until the rope takes up the tension and pendulums you across the gorge (towards the opposite rock face) at 100 miles per hour. At which point Pat was overcome with emotion and held me tight and we kissed as we swung. Hell of a thing to do, to get some romance out of the old bugger. That done, you swing around on your sensitive bits for a couple of minutes ruing the day you ever volunteered to do this. Terra firma is restored by being lowered down to the gorge floor.
    The bollocks.

After an excellent lunch and a celebratory drink we pondered which activities we wanted to repeat. A little forward abseiling and high wire later, Pat had plucked up the courage to do a forward solo gorge swing.

I stood watching from the viewing area. I was not reassured by the instructor pointing out to all and sundry how much my hands were shaking! He approached and retreated. Simply a theatrical ruse of course.

He approached again and stood facing the far side on the edge of the platform. He took a small step forward into oblivion and descended into the gorge. OK, so I had my eyes shut again. He swung back and forth across the gorge like a tiny spider dangling from a thread, as he shouted ëI donít believe it!í Unfortunately, I pondered that our endowment payments have lapsed, so there is no insurance to soften the blow.

That was enough. My inner thighs were somewhat chafed by the harness and walking up out of the gorge a few times had left me jaded. So I bottled, so what?

Resting on our laurels, we gaffed with the management and hoped secretly they would tell us how brave we had been. However, they pointed out that all these activities had been accomplished by; an eight year old child, a 170 kg Dutchman and a 75 year old (a woman at that). So, Dad, how about going for the age record?

This would be the ultimate stag weekend event and we came away simply buzzing. So much so, when we got back to the campsite I insisted in dressing up in the traditional attire of the local dance troop and cavorting on the bike.

I am a little worried about the combination of adrenalin and Patrick.

What a day!