Drag the slider to compare high and low water levels.  Photo 1: The falls in the low season, November 2013: Photo 2: The falls in May 2018
 
After continuing along the bridge we made our way through Zimbabwe customs, a bit hectic but only 20 minutes or so and we found ourselves in another country, just like that. 
 
Zimbabwe is a fascinating country, and the town of Victoria Falls, is one of the longest visited tourist attractions in Zimbabwe, with people coming to see it not long after it’s “discovery” by the first European to set eyes on it, David Livingstone.
 
Zimbabwe’s longtime ruler Robert Mugabe, president since 1981, has just been deposed last fall and a new man, Emmerson Mnangagwa, from the same party and one of Mugabe’s old henchmen, is in charge. Zimbabweans and Africans are holding their breath a bit to see if change is in the air, or if he will be just the same with a different name. We weren’t able to talk to any Zimbabweans about this, but in South Africa many seem skeptical, but to me it almost seemed self protective, to insure against hope being squashed again, and there is a quiet underlying sense of optimism about the future.
 
Another ½ km or so past the border and we found ourselves at the entrance to the park for Vic Falls. Entry is $30 USD pp for Americans (less for SADC members or Zimbabweans), which seems steep, but considering that Vic Falls is a one of a kind is well worth the price of admission. There is a decent curio shop, small cafe and restrooms near the front of the park. After that it is on to the falls.
 
Depending on which portion you are along the falls are about about 100m high, and are a staggering 1.7km wide. So they are not he tallest falls, but with these dimensions and water continuously hurling itself into the chasm it is hard to fathom the scope of what we were witnessing. It’s also completely impossible to see it all at once from the park, as the spray is so thick and so high that at this time of year it obscures the view of the whole falls from any one point.
 
There is a thriving helicopter tourism business going as from the air is really the only way to take in the sight of the whole falls at once, but they are so successful that all of the town of Vic Falls and the parks on both sides is perpetually subject to the whine and throb of helicopter and ultralight engines, which becomes annoying after a while.
 
As we walked closer to the falls the vegetation becomes denser and greener and there is a mini rainforest that has developed along the edge of the falls, fed by the continual blanket of spray. The spray also continuously showered us. In the beginning it starts like a wet fog, then a fine spray. We got our first view of the western edge of the falls and it is a heart stopping wonder to behold, and we had seen it before. Christian had gone to the Zambian side the day before and was very impressed, already thinking that the view from this side was much better.
 
As we went along the face of the falls to each viewpoint we became subsequently wetter. The fine mist became spray, then spray became rain. Then the rain came from all directions, from up and down and sideways, as the huge volume of water drives swirls of air out of the gorge. At one point the spray is driving up at you from below, like a shower head pointed up, and after that we got so wet it was comical. At the various viewpoints sometimes we had a good view and sometimes it was such a wall of spray that you cannot see anything, not even the edge a few meters away, like being drenched with a fire hose.
 
We were laughing as we went along, as we couldn’t have been more wet if we’d jumped in a lake, so we squished along in our shoes and wrung out our shirts and laughed and enjoyed the spectacle. There were not many other tourists, and some were in a partially effective rain coats, getting wet with their sweat in the humid conditions instead of the spray from the falls, and others just as wet as us.

Thoroughly soaked we were ready for a bite to eat and to sit down, so we thought we’d attempt to have lunch at the Victoria Falls Hotel. The Vic Falls Hotel is an institution, the oldest hotel in the area, and with deep colonial roots has been visited by the Queen, other royalty, heads of state and no doubt an endless list of celebrities. It’s upmarket but also old fashioned, so not the chic eco chalets you can find throughout safari destinations. A colonial outpost in the very west of Zimbabwe in Victorian style. With it being so classy and us being dressed in now soaking wet t-shirts and shorts we weren’t sure they’d let us in, but it seemed worth a shot. No one gave us a passing glance, no doubt in part due to our white skin, a somewhat uncomfortable privilege. The sprawling lawn was before us, and behind that the Victoria Falls Bridge, the perpetual rainbow from the spray and the huge tower of mist above the falls were all visible as we sat on the verandah in front of the hotel, and we had one of the best gin and tonics I’ve ever had (Botanist gin, Fitch and Leeds tonic, with lime and a thyme spring, but perhaps it was just the setting?). Spectacular. Lunch was excellent, and expensive, and we finished with a similarly wonderful coffee. Feeling rested and fortified we headed off on our walk back across the border.

There is a trail from the Vic Falls Hotel towards the falls and the border, and when Jenny and I had been here before 5 years ago a security guard from the hotel had escorted us along the trail, to shoe off hawkers and provide security. On that walk, about half way down the trail we came around a corner and he said “Elephant. Run!” I didn’t see it at first, and responded “What?” Looking around, I spotted the elephant at the side of the trail about 10 meters from us behind a bush, and the guard had already run into the bush, leaving us behind. So much for security! But it was good motivator, and Jenny and I dashed after him and the three of us hid behind a bush as the guard told us that “This one is an angry one.” We waited a few minutes and a local came coasting down the trail on his bicycle and the guard shouted out a warning, in the local language so we don’t know exactly what he said, but judging from the cyclists reaction it must have been something along the lines of “Lookout dumbass, you’re about to be killed by an elephant!” With a surprised look on his face the cyclist promptly crashed his bicycle, left it in the trail and ran for cover to hide with us behind the bush. It seems the locals have a fear of elephants, and this is justified. We learned that within the last year where we are camping a security guard had been killed by an elephant on the way to work, and in a separate event two tourists had also been killed, probably by the same elephant. I write this in no way to reflect poorly on Maramba River Lodge, but to illustrate that these animals are indeed wild and need to be accorded respect and caution, and also to show again the difficulty of coexisting in an area where wild animals are so prevalent. We enjoy this un-sanitized arrangement where we need to be responsible for ourselves, and we certainly don’t want wild animals to be culled on our behalf. For our part we’re prepared to be alert for their presence and to retreat to our vehicle or behind the closest handy tree to give them their space. I should also note that most elephants are peacefully munching on vegetation, not attacking people, but occasionally an angry old bull or a mother protecting her young will act aggressively. This normally results in people retreating, accomplishing the elephants goal, but on occasion there is a more violent outcome. This time our walk down the trail yielded no elephant, and we made our way towards the border. Along the way a hawker joined us trying to sell trinkets. He introduced himself has Tomato (pronounced “toh-mah-to”) and proceeded to give us the hard sell, dropping his prices the closer we got to the border. It became tiresome and he was incessantly patient in hearing our refusals and persistent in continuing his offers. For about the seventh time I made another refusal to buy, saying something along the lines of “Look Tomato (foolishly pronouncing it in the American way, To-may-to) we aren’t buying anything” and he laughed hysterically, “My name isn’t To-may-to, it’s Toh-mah-to” again, laughing at my foolish error. It was pretty funny, and it took him awhile to get over this, and he kept giggling about it, but he then returned to his hard sell. Finally he gave up and attacked another group of tourists, and we were free. Border formalities on the return were swift, there was no one else there, and at the end of our trek our vehicle was where we left it, unmolested. We retreated to our campsite at Maramba River Lodge and planned our next leg, to the Lower Zambezi National Park and surrounds.  Logistical Notes: -Livingstone Guest House – Christian stayed at the Green Tree Lodge in Livingstone before meeting up with us, host’s name was Andrew. He was extremely knowledgeable and helpful, and a fantastic cook. Restaurant at the lodge was fantastic, including home made desert pastries. Bungalows were ~$80 USD per night, great low key place if you need a guest house. -Camping – we stayed at the Maramba River Lodge, between Livingstone and the Falls. Great place, icy cold beers and a nice campsite right on the river. Good food though the menu was not all available. Camping was $15 pp/pn, I think. Firewood was extra, but reasonable. Power point and lights at the campsite. Ablutions were a bit of a walk, but clean and nice w/ hot water showers. -Nico Insurance in downtown Livingstone was able to sell us COMESA, which may or may not actually cover us as a South African registered vehicle. This insurance business is messy and still a little uncertain, but here is what I know:-We have primary comprehensive coverage for the vehicle through TuffStuff/Ream Insurance in South Africa.-We are still required to purchase 3rd party liability in countries other than South Africa, though as I understand it in Namibia this is covered via a fuel surcharge, so is not an issue there.-In Botswana 3rd party insurance is paid at customs and is easy.-At the Kazungula border on the Zam side we bought 3rd party insurance, at the fixed price of 162 kw from an insurance company that I’ve forgotten the name of. They said they could provide COMESA as well, but after finishing most of the paperwork they made a call and said they no longer sell it to South African vehicles. This was somewhat annoying, the bait and switch, but I had read that it may be the case that SA registered vehicles cannot be covered by COMESA, so perhaps that was proving to be true.-We went to Nico insurance in Livingstone and they would sell us COMESA, but only as a sort of “rider” on their own 3rd party insurance. This meant that if we wanted the COMESA coverage we would need to purchase 3rd party cover a second time. I was concerned about finding insurance in future countries, and so it seemed worth the extra cash now to avoid hassle in the future, and also reportedly COMESA is very common in the rest of East Africa and thus police officers are expecting to see it, so we hoped this would speed our passage through any checkpoints.-COMESA coverage is based on duration and number of countries covered, so we paid for “3+” countries to maintain flexibility for 60 days of coverage, coming out to 330 kw (roughly $33 USD).

The Ferry Crossing

708km, 10hrs 15min total transit time, all tar via Mafikeng border crossing into Botswana

We started on rural roads, “R” roads in South Africa on the map, and made our way north.  The R roads, in our limited experience, are great, as there is minimal traffic and the roads are of reasonable condition.  There are less trucks to get stuck behind, as the trucks can only drive 80 kph, but the speed limit is often 120 kph.  However, there is no shoulder, and the roads are narrow, so overtaking or meeting large trucks can be somewhat harrowing.

Eventually we passed through Kimberly, famous for it’s diamond mining history, and onto Vryburg where we managed to fill our cooking gas bottles and grab some snacks, and also importantly stock up on biltong, the South African version of beef jerky.

Biltong is a big deal in South Africa (religion?) and comes in many different forms, a sort of Oberto style meat stick, sort of flat beef jerky type, chili, spiced, beef, kudu, and also finely shredded, for putting on breakfast cereal, among other things.  There are many other forms, resulting in the need for specialty biltong stores, found at nearly every shopping complex.  We’re partial to chili biltong ourselves.

The day before leaving Hendrick was concerned about the security situation at our chosen border crossing.  Mafikeng (actually Ramatlabama is the border, but Mafikeng is the town before the border) was the most direct, and it is not a main border crossing and thus we hoped would be less busy.  However, Mafikeng had experienced rioting very recently, and the border had been closed.

Wisely Hendrick made some calls and got ahold of a security company that had experience in the area.  For now they said it is quiet and the coast was clear.  He gave us the phone number to call and verify all was well once we were closer, but we were advised that it would probably be obvious if there was trouble, as there would be police, roadblocks and the like.  We had an alternate border crossing that wasn’t too much of a diversion picked out if need be.

As we made our way further north South Africa became a little more like the Africa some at home might picture in their minds.  The shopping malls and car dealers and chain restaurants thinned out and the small towns started looking a little scrappier.  Occasionally we’d see a donkey cart along side the road, and the traffic through towns became less organized.  But all was very civil, and the long drive proceeded smoothly.

Approaching Mafikeng we started to see odd piles of wire by the side of the road, and then we passed by a petrol station and garage that had obviously been the site of rioting and looting.  Smashed out windows, bare shelves inside, damage to the building, debris everywhere.

This sort of snuck up on us, as we thought we had a little further to go before reaching town.

After that we put together that the strange piles of wire by the side of the road were the remnants of burning tires, with just the steel reinforcement left after all the rubber had burned.  We were on high alert, but the few police we saw seemed at ease and we sailed through town without trouble.

The best part of town was when we saw a butcher with a huge sign advertising “WE ARE LISTERIOSIS FREE!”, but as business usually don’t need to clarify to their customers which diseases they aren’t at risk for when shopping at your establishment, it was a little unconvincing.

We arrived at the border.  African border crossings conjure up all kinds of images.  The chaos of delays, bribes, pushy border officials claiming you have the wrong paperwork, unanticipated fees, touts and fixers promising a smooth transit across, prostitutes and hawkers and lines of trucks waiting for who knows what.

However we will disappoint you.  Even in our uncertainty of the exact procedures, and that we didn’t have the right currency for the one very modest fee, we were across, complete with bathroom stop, in 30 minutes.  I’ve had to wait longer at customs to get back into the United States.

All the border officials were courteous and patient, and really I got the impression that maybe we weren’t fast enough for them, opposite of the usual complaint one reads about border crossings.

The last hour to Mokolodi was a pretty easy drive, but it had been a long day on the road and we were ready to be done.  If we had been more prepared (with lunch, not needing to hunt around to fill gas bottles) we could have shaved an hour or two from the journey.  Regardless, in the final stretch we got stuck behind a long string of cars all patiently driving 60 kph on a 120 kph road behind one solitary car taking its time, with 20+ cars behind it.

We have found this is a peculiarity of driving in South Africa and Botswana, that a car that looks to be relatively new will proceed at serene and gentle pace down the road, resulting in a long line of cars performing daring overtaking maneuvers trying to get around it, threatening the safety of all.  But patience usually wins out and you can find an easy stretch to pass on to continue on your way.

We arrived at the Mokolodi Nature Reserve just south of Gaborone at about 1800, sundown.  Late, as usual.  After checking in and a minor mix up at the reservations counter we were off into the park to camp for our first night properly on our journey.  After such a long day on the road I was tired and ready to get out of the car, so the first sip of beer around the fire was spectacular, we had made it.

Logistical Notes:

Border crossing procedure for Mafikeng

1. Park on the left.
2. Building on the right, make any declarations to South African customs, such as electronics.  I had read about this, that one should bring a typed list of all electronics and corresponding serial numbers for customs to stamp, but I had not taken it seriously when running out of time to prepare for the trip.  Turns out this is a thing!  The customs officer patiently typed up a list on their computer using their form, with me reading off serial numbers.  I confess that in our haste (we were late) we did not declare every last item, so hopefully this will not come back to bite us.
3. Stamp out of SA customs.  All in the same building.
4. Get waved through final check point.
5. Drive no mans land, maybe 1km?  I don’t remember
6. Park on the left.
7. Enter Botswana customs and immigration building, fill out the form provided, get stamped in.  Proceed to the next window to show vehicle paperwork (which they didn’t really look at, just to see that we had some).  The fee was just over 150 pula (152, 156? Something like that).  We went to the exchange booth around the corner and got a terrible exchange rate, so we only changed a little more than we needed.
8. Use the near spotless bathrooms if need be.
9. Drive through the last checkpoint, with a short “where are you headed” and we were done.  Easy.