Click Here to view a series of pictures from one of our near death experiences rafting.

We meet our driver at 8:00 AM for a quick mini-van ride to a nearby hotel for our safety briefing before descending the steep cliffs on a series of iron ladders and stairs into the Zambezi river valley. As we descend the bridge connecting Zambia and Zimbabwe guards the river gorge between us and the misty Victoria Falls plunging from Zambia into the no-mans land that is the Zambezi river between Zimbabwe and Zambia. Half an hour after applying our sun screen and practicing our maneuvers for avoiding flips and wraps, back paddling, hard forward paddling, turns and aggressive swimming we began our descent on the river towards our first of 19 rapids: Morning Glory, a massive class 5 standing wave six feet high. (not the biggest but an effective wake up call).

Our hearts pound in our chests and a twinge of guilt flashes over me for introducing my bride to the magic of white water rafting a class 5 river, the mighty Zambezi. Our guide, Tozi, explains the strategy for conquering this rapid. With two white water rescue kayaks flanking each raft we accepted our fate, relinquishing control and abandoning preconceived notions of self preservation. A roll of the dice not unlike taking a cab ride in San Francisco on a rainy Saturday night.

Within the hour, we have tamed the first half dozen rapids. One rapid, the "Stairway to Heaven" catches most of us by surprise when we fail to paddle aggressively through a standing wave and instead the water pulls us along a crease and dumps us sideways into an eddy five feet below our intended path over the haystack. Lisa's first swim on the Zambezi. All remain close by the raft as the wreckage floats downstream into a calm stretch. We all learn the value of following Tozi's instructions to paddle "hard forward".

After stopping to share our lunch with a troop of vervet monkeys along the river, we eagerly cast off for the next dozen rapids. Tozi's instructions for a series of large rapids numbered 12a, 12b, and 12c: ("The Three Sisters"): "Don't fall out of the raft early because you will not be able to catch the raft before the next rapid. There are three and they are big. This is not where you want to take a "long swim" because the kayakers cannot navigate in between these big rapids." The words "do not fall out of the raft early...." are fresh in my mind as I am launched from the raft. It happens quick and, later, no one else is able to explain where our efforts went astray. I am looking to my right and there is nothing but air and then looking down I see someone below me. I am confused by my orientation to the raft. I feel the life line strain in my hand and then I am under water with no sense of which way is up.

It seems like minutes tumbling through the water before I am able to gasp for air. I am exhausted as I finally become aware of the rescue kayak moving towards me quickly. With surgical precision he is next to me in seconds asking if I am okay. I cannot not tell him I am all right because I did not know whether I am. But slowly awareness is returning to me. He looks at me with intent eyes and I am sure my eyes betray my thin mask of bravado. My real thought is that if I have to go through that again I will not be all right. "Tell me what to expect," my eyes plead. I cannot speak as I cling to the front of his kayak and we slip buoyantly over the top of the current. I have swallowed at least a liter of water and as soon as I catch my breath I can feel my cheeks blow out as my gag reflex begins to churn the river water up into my throat. I fight back the urge to vomit as the rescue kayaker turns his attention down river and then back to me. "The Mother rapid is coming up and I cannot go through it with you on the kayak if we are sideways. You must let go if we are sideways." I nod timidly, unable to say anything with a throat welling up with brownish-green river water.

My eyes are mere inches above the water and he has the advantage of a perspective two to three feet above me. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," I am able to purge the words. A moment of intense study for him of the rapids ahead and another breath of precious air for me. "You need to let go. We are sideways." The disappointment of those words drains my body of relaxation and I am instantly tense knowing that I am going for yet another "long swim". I unclamp my legs from the underside of the kayak which I am hugging from the bottom like a velcro handed lanky-armed monkey. The current tugs at my legs as they swing like a pendulum in slow motion through the water into the current below the surface. "I'll meet you on the other side, you have to let go now" the rescue kayaker says with a sense of urgency. I release my grip on the kayak and my head sinks into the water until my eyes are a mere inch above the water. He darts off as I face downstream and wrestle my legs from the river current to align my body with my legs in front of me downstream. A bump from a submerged boulder and I steady my upper body as an under water eddy on the lee side of a boulder gives my legs a good tug and pulls me under. My life vest takes the cue and brings me back to the surface as I try to untwist my legs and sluggishly aim them downstream. Then the water becomes fast and calm and I can take a breath without ingesting foam and water. I slip through the water as it accelerates into the face of the submerged boulder that is the inspiration for the rapid named "The Mother" (Rapid 13). I exhale a defeated breath as I stare at the face of the standing wave cresting at the top.

Unexpectedly I am drawn even lower into the trough of this standing wave and an unseen current grips at my legs, pulling me down. My nose and mouth are submerged as I look up at the cresting wave. I can feel myself accelerating. I force my head back to draw a breath of air and seal my mouth with a bit of the metallic tasting water as my face slams into the crest of the wave and I am propelled over the haystack into a weight less free fall surrounded by a random mix of air and water. My body is rolled, folded, twisted and contorted like an sock monkey. I have to guess when it is safe to draw a breath of air. I open my eyes to confirm my suspicion and purchase a lung full of precious air along with my gift with purchase, an ounce or two of delicious river water. "I am all right as long as I don't choke," I tell myself. By now I am scared of drowning. At some point this "long swim" stopped being fun. The fear quickly ebbs when I see the kayak almost on top of me. This time there is no attempt to exchange dialogue. The kayaker grabs the back of my life vest and pulls me up onto the front of the kayak with one arm. I am safe...for the moment.

I am delivered to a straight line of the river's path with small rapids. I am commanded to relax and swim to the rafts below. Again he disappears. Who was that kayaked man? I don't know but I could use a silver bullet right now to wash away the flat metallic taste of the sewage-laden brownish-green Zamebezi river water. I never did find out which of the rescue kayak guys became my island for those moments but as soon as I was pulled into the raft, I wanted him to be my new best friend. I felt like I owed him something, after all.

After feeling the solid sides of the raft, exchanging several dozen lungs full of air, and quelling the urge to vomit with violent wrenching coughs, a sense of guilt flashes over me again. What have I gotten my wife into? Where is she? This being Lisa's first white water river rafting trip. Unaware of how swiftly the river had swept me downstream away from our raft I scan upstream searching for Lisa and notice the river is littered with "swimmers" and kayakers darting around to supervise the rescue attempts. Several seconds later I make eye contact with Lisa. She is safe in the raft and I have never been so happy to see her beautiful smile.

"Are you Okay?" Lisa asks while laughing. "I'm all right" and with a kiss the remaining terror is melted away. Moments later my mind starts relabeling the terror and fear "excitement" and "rush". We float a fair stretch towards our next battle, # 15, the "Washing Machine" and points beyond with names like "Judgement Day", "Boiling Pot", "Gnashing Jaws of Death" and the "Terminator". Somewhere after the washing machine we spot the first crocodile sunning on the rocks next to the river. "He's not big enough to do much damage, maybe a foot, hand or arm," Tozi casually mentions as his previous warning of no swimming in still water takes on a whole new meaning. The most challenging rapid, number 18, "Oblivion", pictured here in the web site would be our most formidable opponent. But by then we were seasoned battle-hardened white water warriors. We cannot help but smile from ear to ear as we eagerly listen to Tozi's precise instructions on how were going to successfully navigate the next rapid.

"Oblivion" won and all of us, including Tozi, went for a "long swim". Tozi's account for the yard sale amounts to this: with insufficient forward speed we stalled on the face of the standing wave and the raft folded in the middle until it explosively reclaimed its original shape flicking all of us in random directions.

The walk out of the river canyon is gruelling. It takes us a good forty minutes to climb the steep stairs cut into the canyon walls. We are beat up, bruised, exhausted, shaken and stirred as we arrive on the canyon rim and begin recounting stories and comparing developing bruises and cuts over luke warm Zambezi Lager waiting for our truck to fetch us back to town. Most people fell asleep on the ride home. I cannot sleep because my smile hurts too much.