ZAMBEZI EXPEDITION
Sailing & sketching this iconic river
Read & shop

It would take us three months to go upstream and we had three weeks. In Africa, adaptation to local conditions is key to success and so we decided to sail downstream from Ngonye Falls, rather than in search of Ngonye Falls. We jokingly called it a "quick jaunt." In reality, with the powerful August winds either blowing against us or not blowing at all and with the river running low, it was a expedition in every sense of the word. We have the scars to prove it. This is the story of the expedition. →

Every expedition we do starts off with an inspirational thought. Granted, these expeditions are undertaken to test our new products, but there is always a greater idea, a dream. For this trip, the more we looked into where to go and what we wanted to do, the more the inspirational ideas piled up. Over a few beers, Steve and artist-explorer Brent Dodd asked question after question of one another: "Is there a river we love more than the Zambezi?" "Why do expeditions always go downstream when the great African explorers all went upstream?" "Why are all expeditions recorded using video and photography only when the traditional way is to record the expedition through the medium of sketches and paintings, again as the explorers once did?" "Has anyone sailed the Zambezi - or at least a section of it?" "Do you know that there is an spectacular waterfall upstream of Victoria Falls called Ngonye and that this was the waterfall David Livingstone first encountered in his search for Victoria Falls?" "Why are we still sitting here? Lets go exploring!"

Over the weeks and months which followed, that afternoon sitting on the deck of a pub in KwaZulu-Natal and these questions provided us with guidance for what to do next. And so the seed was planted to sketch and sail the Zambezi, linking Victoria Falls to her petite, pretty, long-forgotten sister, Ngonye Falls.

A trip linking these two major waterfalls in celebration of the exploration of the Zambezi by David Livingstone and the Portuguese explorer Serpa Pinto before Livingstone just had to be done.

We found that the more research we did, the more significant Ngonye became in our mind's eye. Very few people have heard of this vast waterfall, situated 400km upstream of Victoria Falls. Not only is Ngonye a mile wide, but it is also the first major waterfall discovered by →

Braving crocodiles, Brent leads the way.
The Zambezi is often shallow and fast-flowing, leaving no other option but to pull the Hobie along. A little further downstream, we were washed over a small waterfall, adding a broken mast and outrigger to our broken rudder woes. I jumped in to save the mast and had the rather uncomfortable thought - as I was under the waterfall, gasping for air and with a bleeding leg - that this was exactly the sort of spot where I had seen crocodiles hunting for fish.

Ngonye Falls, sketch and words by Brent.
I wanted to convey a contemplative element in this drawing. We were about to embark on this epic adventure on a monstrous river. It was wonderfully ironic, in hindsight, that there are delicate waterfalls in this sketch when, in fact, we were hit by the full force of the river only hours later. The work of Thomas Baines as an artist recorded moments in his explorations. The essence of my journey through pictures in this expedition was to try and do exactly that - catch moments.

No more talk. Time to sail
With all the planning done, it was time to try our plan our and sail the Zambezi. Watched by local Zambian women who were busy with their daily laundry in a sort of extreme wash-day routine (given the presence of crocodiles) we set off from above the Ngonye Falls. Would the Hobie withstand the rigours of the Zambezi and would we actually be able to sail? We were not entirely sure, but that was a large part of the appeal. We explore, after all, to experience our own unknown.

Worn like a tribal headdress.
Brent carries the now-broken portage wheels and bits and pieces of the boat and our gear. The wheels which were meant to assist us in portaging around Ngonye Falls and other major rapids en route only lasted about a kilometre or so as we had underestimated the weight of the boat and the equipment we had packed. We spent a full day carrying the pieces of the Hobie and all our equipment around the falls. It was heavy going, with the sun and thick sand testing our stamina. As for the rapids downstream, we now had no other option but to hit them head-on and run them - in a craft meant only for the breezes of a California dream on flat, cool waters.

Oscar the Mekoro-guide. Sketch and words by Brent.
The roar of rapids. You hear it long before you see it. Which direction should we take? Which path will be the clearest path that is deep enough not to smash the hull again? We couldn't predict the nature of the river; there just didn't seem to be any consistency in the flow or the course. We spotted a settlement of sorts on the south bank and decided to pull up and take a walk down along the rapids to see if we could get a better idea of the safest path. Fortune favoured us as we bumped into Oscar, a resident to the area, and he said he'd pole his mekoro with us and lead us through the rapids. He was brilliant - until he left us downstream again, to fend for ourselves. The roar reared again and we were unable to exit the river. It was carnage. When Steve suddenly lost his footing in the surge and disappeared underwater, I realised we had lost control.

A beach on the Zambezi which would make the Seychelles proud.
Just downstream from the Ngonye Falls, our portage ended at this beach on the Zambezi. The sand is fine and squeaky and the setting, well, breathtaking. The remote beauty of the place is startling and often unexpected. This little-visited part of Zambia is made for those looking for something a little bit different and perhaps more subtle for their adventure.

Sleeping rough - very rough
Having ditched our tents to try keep the Hobie as light as possible, we very quickly learnt just how cold our nights were to be. Despite the cold, the mosquitoes were very active and seemed to have watched their fair share of James Bond classics. These whining, winged insects did everything to bite us on the expedition, including crawling along the sand to creep under Brent's mosquito nets and under the sail I was forced to use as a makeshift mosquito net. It led to restless nights. Neither of us would do any expedition without a tent again as escaping the elements, even for a few hours, does wonders for the rest and the regeneration of one's spirit.

This photo was taken after we had struggled though a rapid upstream which had broken bits off the boat, much in the way as a child takes chunks out of an unsuspecting gingerbread man. With the sun setting, we limped down a side-stream of the Zambezi and found this muddy resting place. We were both thirsty and so Brent went off to gather water. Brent, unfortunately, drank from a pool frequented by baboon and other game and ended up with a serious stomach infection. Over the next few days he fell very ill and lost 10 kilograms by the end of the expedition. Not once did he complain, nor stop peddling or paddling Ulundi - a trooper in every sense of the word.

Bovu Island classroom. Sketch and words by Brent.
Coming from a teaching background and it being an absolute passion of mine, it was so, so very rewarding to get into one of the classrooms. I found the frenetic enthusiasm of the learners - sharing chairs as they all piled into one classroom, scratching away with the pencils on paper as they followed the drawing I was doing on the board, chanting nouns as we shared languages - one of the magnificent highlights of this expedition. This particular sketch was a moment where a boy jumped up and high-fived to a victorious drawing. We had made stick figures of boats and people and wavy water with sticks as fishing rods. Sometimes its not about what you draw; it's just the fact that you're drawing.

Sailing under a satellite
We mapped our route using the Suunto Ambit3 watch. Our longest day on the water was over 80 kilometres. The map shows clearly why the predominantly easterly wind at that time of year was not ideal for sailing. It also gives a good view of the remote region through which we travelled.

Eating and 'cheating'. Over the first few days of the expedition, we would stop off on the river bank to eat and stretch our legs. We then came up with a plan: not to stop and carry on peddling and sailing while we ate. While the lunchtime miles felt like stolen miles as we pushed on through midday, it meant that, on the longer days, we struggled to stand up and get out of the Hobie, with our legs stiff and our backs as bent as a gnarly old Shepherds Tree.

White water and white knuckles
Just past Kazangula lies five kilometres of big white water and, as we learnt afterwards, a famed 20-foot crocodile called Gustav or Gunther or some similar name in the pools beneath the rapids. The sun had set and we were unable to find a place to camp amongst the thickly-reeded banks. With the sound of the rapids nearby - of which we had no clue, nor time to recce - a rather uninviting reminder of how badly this could all go wrong in the fading light, Brent turned to me and said "We are on an expedition, right? What are we waiting for? Let's go for it. Lets run the rapids now!"