I was afraid - of something I never used to be

I realised that I was scared this time - which was new and unwelcome - I’d done this before, quite a few times, described it as one of my absolute favourite things. So, what was going on this time? 

I’d recently written about fear and now, here was a new situation that I hadn’t anticipated. 

As these thoughts flitted through my head, the huge wall of water reared up in front of us and we headed straight into it…the sound was deafening as the water surged around the raft and came crashing down on us. 

We lurched precariously on the edge of this inflatable boat - seemingly so sturdy and heavy on land - now looking absolutely minuscule as the sides of the 150 metres deep gorge surrounded us, and the immense river with its huge raging waves left us in no doubt as to how small and insignificant we were…

We were white water rafting down the Zambezi river - which many tourists do (in usual times) - and the rapids ranged from grade 3 to grade 5, and also grade 6, but we didn’t do that one as it is classed as too dangerous for novices. (If you’re not familiar with rapid grades, suffice to say that the water here is truly enormous and grade 5 is more than enough for most of us!). 

I’d first fallen in love with white water rafting almost twenty years ago on my first visit to Australia. We’d spent my first day hurling ourselves down the Tully river in Queensland and I’d declared it one of the best things I’d ever done, and did it in a few other countries since, hoping to replicate that euphoria of the first day. 

But today, there was none of that feeling. Unusual nerves had begun to grip me earlier in the day on the way to the gorge, and I’d noticed it briefly, then I’d ignored it. 

However, the nerves got worse, and were not helped by the last part of the journey to the boat. We had to walk down an extremely steep ladder and makeshift steps, all the way from the top of the gorge, and, as many of you will know, I am extremely scared of heights [I have written about my experience of dealing with them in a previous blog]. 

Also, since horrifically breaking my leg a few years ago, falling from a height, this had compounded the fear of falling, and I was struggling with the combination of insanely steep, rickety ladders, loose boulders and trying to take it slowly whilst wishing for it to be over. 

I placed each footstep with as much care as I could, aware of how slow I was being and feeling guilty for holding up others. Clambering further along the slippery rocks at the waters edge, we finally reached the raft and I sat, on a scorching hot rock in the searing heat, dangling my feet in the cool river as the guides made the final preparations.

I was sad to be missing out on the excitement and pre-rafting buzz, and perturbed at this change in me. And I was puzzled.

As soon as I realised I was scared, I decided to go into observation mode (ever the coach!), and watch myself and my thoughts rather than simply reacting to them. There is a technique relating to fear that I was aware of that I decided to try. Instead of focusing on how scared I was feeling, I would tell myself that this feeling was excitement. 

“I’m excited”, I said to myself. “I’m excited”

I began to smile as I said it. “I’m excited”, I repeated again. It definitely worked to start with, and then any time something interrupted it, I was thrown back into the fear. 

So what was going on? I decided to give my brain another task, which I could contemplate in the moments when the adrenaline wasn’t as high and the flat stretches of water meant that we were paddling steadily and rhythmically, perfect for thinking. 

I listed the reasons that I thought it might be, and, as I wondered, more of them came to me - and it was an interesting combination of both known and unknown fears:

I’d never rafted in a river with dangerous wildlife before - crocodiles did live here, and we saw a small dead one as we started (rather comically floating on its back, its short legs sticking up towards the sky) - confirming that they were definitely here. Also, a few days before, a British tourist had been attacked by a crocodile whilst on a swim break from rafting*

I remembered that one of the times I had rafted in Australia the river was very big after lots of rainfall, and it was a great fun, extreme day, but…the raft had flipped (and I’d been in flipped rafts before), and this time I got trapped under it. It wasn’t for long but it was quite unnerving at the time. This incident that I had forgotten in the memory of a great, fun, day, now appeared back in my consciousness.

It had been a while since I’d rafted such large rapids (I think the last rafting I’d done had only been up to grade 3, perhaps 4 at a push). I couldn’t remember what the severity meant, relatively speaking, to the enormous masses of swirling water that we were encountering. 

Rafting is hard work - even in a full boat of 8-10 people and this time we were the only guests, so they’d had to get another two staff to help. So there were only five of us. Even as a guest paddler its tiring - and the guides work ridiculously hard. They are so fit, and they have to be, these rafts have enormous oars and they are responsible for steering and giving instructions to the rest of us. With only a half-full boat I wondered, would we be able to manage the rapids? Or was there more likelihood of capsizing? And also, with my relative inexperience in the face of the incredibly powerful force of water, my safety was firmly in others’ hands - I was mostly powerless should anything go wrong, was this a factor in my fear?

I wondered if age played a part. No, I am not ‘ancient’ by any means, but I am almost 20 years older than when I first did it, and much had happened in life since then. I have occasionally found myself more fearful as I get older, and have tried to continue despite this. Not pushing through, but working through it. Is this a natural thing for everyone as we age, or simply a reflection of many of my life experiences? As referenced regarding my leg break, the body remembers trauma and attempts to prevent it happening again - is this what some of this fear is? My body trying to keep me safe? 

Observing these thoughts as we navigated the rapids, for the first few rapids I was still nervous. As we progressed through them, some much higher grade than others, I began to enjoy it more.

But the river is always keeping you on your toes. On a couple of the rapids our fellow rafters went flying - literally - a different one each time. The raft plunged into the massive waves and we saw them bounce high into the air and over the side. We’d had a briefing on how to rescue, and I lunged forward to grab him. The other rafter also leapt across the raft, and we hauled him out using his life jacket. Reunited with his paddle, and the raft still speeding down the river, there was no time to rest and he resumed paddling hard.

On another occasion, as volumes of water poured over us from every direction, slapping us in the face, I swallowed a vast amount. It was as if I had fallen in - I was coughing it up like mad and spluttering for a good few minutes afterwards. It certainly woke me up but, as you know, that sensation of swallowing so much water isn’t a pleasant one!

Before too long I was enjoying it a great deal - each rapid approach brought excitement rather than trepidation - and once you’re in the thick of the rapids there is no time to think. The guide yelled “hard paddle” and we would all paddle double time as fast as possible. Arms aching, heart rate rising, and often, the paddle thrust out would simply meet with air and the raft flew up and down through the water. Often it felt as if each stroke was simply a hope of connecting with water, and perhaps that would carry us through. 

In fact, I came to prefer the rapids to the flat water as when it was flat, that was when we had to constantly paddle - which was tiring! Pretty unfit from months without proper exercise, despite it being hard I enjoyed the physicality of it, even as my arms were burning.

We had moments to enjoy the incredible scenery of the gorge, the steep orangey-brown walls rose above us, dramatically jagged rocks creating beautiful sculptures, grey boulders the size of houses were lined in and along the river’s edge, having fallen many years before, and now the edges were carved smooth from the constant erosion of the water. We were the only ones on the river. Occasionally on the banks we would see a lone fisherman, but other than that, the river was ours. Or, perhaps more accurately, we belonged to the river.

A little over 20km of paddling, 19 rapids and a few hours later we were finished. Exhausted but thrilled. We had arranged to view the Victoria Falls later that day, which, having paddled downstream of them, I was excited to see. 

As we drove back to the base, I reflected on the experience -  which many, many people do, and some of you reading this might be thinking that’s a bit tame and confused as to the fear. And so would I have done - and here’s the thing: things change. We DO change. Often, without noticing. And then we’re surprised.

Experiences like this give us a chance to revisit what we think to be true of who we are. None of us are actually the same day to day - and nothing is an irreversible truth.  We can relearn and stretch our limitations and relive our joys. Fear can creep up - but it can also be dealt with anew.

And there is no shame in that. There is no shame in fear. And, we don’t have to stay that way if we don’t want to. We can observe, we can work with it, we can change again. It’s all within our power. 

I was grateful to this lesson and reminder of our continuous evolution. And it certainly keeps things interesting!

All in all, it was a day of many emotions, as the Victoria Falls - Mosi-oa-Tunya - entirely took my breath away. I almost cried, in a combination of astonishment, awe and deep gratitude. 

The name Mosi-oa-Tonya means ‘The Smoke that Thunders’ and never have I heard a more appropriate name. And what beautiful poetry there is in this title. 

Soaring above them in the helicopter (and extremely grateful for such a wonderful opportunity, which was a birthday gift from John), I watched the mist rising, marvelling at the rainbow that was created as the sun hit the water.

It was a way to get a real appreciation of the true scale, and see just how tiny everything human and man-made is in comparison.

After the flight, we also visited them on foot - stopping at many viewpoints, and getting drenched by the spray and a timely downpour, which made for great pictures!

I cannot do them justice with my words so I will borrow some of the most famous:

"No one can imagine the beauty of the view from anything witnessed…but scenes so lovely must have been gazed upon by angels in their flight." (Livingstone)

It is one of THE most spectacular sights I have ever seen - and I’ve been very fortunate in what I have seen throughout the world. 

It’s 100% worth the hype, the cost, (and in our case, the massive administrative hassle to get here). 

I could not stop taking pictures. Some people scoff upon ‘touristy’ sights - and is it a shame it’s so ‘touristy’? 

I don’t think so. Whilst there is sometimes a magic in some less well known (if not quite ‘untouched’ places), I’m delighted that so many other people get to enjoy this, and also delighted that local people benefit as a result. They are - rightly - incredibly proud of this natural wonder (even those words don’t seem adequate for them) and many people’s living depends on them. The town of Victoria Falls was the first to be vaccinated and has a very high vaccination rate, as they were very keen to be able to reopen as soon as they could. 

There was a nurses conference in town whilst we were there, so groups of domestic tourists were visiting at the same time. Joyful and friendly, they would invite us for selfies with them in front of the falls, taking picture after picture with us, which was a lot of fun. Occasionally, we’d be at a viewpoint by ourselves, and I would simply stand, silently, with the roar of the water drowning out all other sounds, and wonder how it was something so magical could exist and that I would get to be here.

We had hoped to spend longer in Zimbabwe, but, due to covid restrictions that were announced (10 day quarantine for people entering) it wasn’t possible. Although, we were informed that no one was enforcing them, and that certainly seemed to be the case. I will definitely be back. 

Next up, we’re off to Namibia. An entirely different prospect and many more thousands of kilometres to drive, with Christmas and my birthday being spent there. 

To all reading, I wish you a time filled with rest and with love, and hope that you are able to celebrate or observe this period as you wish, without disruption. 

Merry Christmas, and a very happy New Year.

*the link to the news story is here. Having read a few accounts and spoken with the local rafting guides, it appears that the tourists were swimming in flat water during a rafting break after asking their guide if they could jump off the rocks into the water. Apparently, crocodiles aren’t found where there is faster water and rapids, only still water. It’s very sad and a terrible incident for everyone - and I’m so glad that the victim will be ok. What is also sad is that perhaps it wasn’t the wisest thing to do, and tourists tend to trust the guides, and the guides always want to please tourists as so many livelihoods depend on it - particularly in this time - so perhaps they might say yes to requests which aren’t fully a good idea. Happily, this is the only incident in the 40 years rafting has been taking place on the Zambezi.