Annie Shoberg: Rafting the Zambezi River for Christmas

When Mark announced that he had purchased us a 1 day rafting trip down the Zambezi River, I was nervous. I kind of knew we’d be rafting, but the Zambezi is a Class 5 River, and ever since the near death experience I had on the Shoshone Power Plant Run, I’ve had a hard time rafting anything other than a float. I’ve done it (Clear Creek, Royal Gorge, Kicking Horse), but I’m so anxious getting in the boat that it’s all I can do not to pee my pants. Today was no exception. I didn’t pee my pants, but I did bawl my eyes out. I kept it together as we hiked the descent into the canyon, kept it together all the way to the shoreline, but when I saw the river, I lost it. My legs were shaking. My heart was beating. My eyes were watering uncontrollably. I was just plain scared, not scared enough to not raft, just scared. I didn’t want to be ejected from the boat, didn’t want to drown, didn’t want to be eaten by crocodiles or hippos.

Tembo, our guide, asked “how are you doing, Darling?” “I’ll be fine; I’m just scared,” I replied through tears. We loaded the six of us into the raft and pushed off the canyon. And from there I was fine. It’s just getting into that damn boat. Once I’m in, I’m fine. Right out the gate, we hit a class 3 rapid which we handled well. Mike, a rafting guide from Colorado, got ejected from the front of the raft but quickly recovered. Another group capsized straight away. Up above, there were bungee jumpers bobbing off an enormous arched metal bridge that connected Zambia to Zimbabwe. I started to relax and loosen up. The water was warm, there were three raft guides on board (and a trainee), and there were 24 rapids ahead. I was ready to have fun.

The canyon was impressive. The black basalt rock walls were high through the entire run. Small sandy beaches appeared occasionally. The rapids were perfectly spaced; we’d paddle hard through a giant series of waves then catch the current and hang out through a glassy stretch. On rapid #8, Tembo asked with a smile if we wanted the hard way or the harder way. We went for the harder way, a class 5. I knew going in that we were going to get dumped. And we did. The raft fully flipped over leaving all of us scattered like a yard sale. We quickly recovered, and it was fun (although, I did acquire a fat lip in the process, compliments of Mark’s paddle).

We had an absolute blast. It was among the highlights of the trip thus far (there have been so many!).

My fat lip (paddle to the face when we capsized)