Craig R. Saunders, M.D.

After experiencing ancient Egypt and following the Nile into Sudan, after innumerable children shouting “How are YOU?”, women along the road toting bundles on their heads, men on bikes and countless coke stops and roadside markets, after celebrating the halfway point in Lilongwe, Malawi we had now been on the tour over 2 months and were getting a little road weary. Hell, some of us old guys were getting just plain worn out. I, in particular, was having increasing pain in my left hip. I figured I had bursitis or arthritis; it didn’t bother me on the bike, but walking after a day’s ride was becoming increasingly painful. And it wasn’t going away as I had hoped.
Nevertheless, excitement was mounting. We were on an eight-day stretch through Zambia, averaging just under 100 miles daily. We had one rest day, but the thought of Victoria Falls kept us going. At the end of this segment, nearly 3,500 miles into our journey, we were to have a much anticipated three-day rest period at the Waterfront Hotel on the Zambezi River in Livingston, Zambia, just upriver from the world-famous Victoria Falls.

During one of these sunsets, I made a deal that may have saved my life and, for sure, the rest of the ride. Peter from Tacoma was a urologist and was a segment rider. He had only come to ride from Arusha to Victoria Falls and was going home. Readers may recall that I ‘lost’ my own helmet in Mbeya and had been wearing a broken down, ill-fitting helmet borrowed from the crew since then. The only thing this helmet did was fulfill the requirement that everyone must wear one; it offered minimal if any, protection. For the price of a bottle of wine and taxi fare to the airport, I bought Peter’s nearly new helmet.

His dream was not Mars; no, Cecil Rhodes’ dreams were much closer to home. He was an unapologetic imperialist bent on creating a new British Empire in Africa and connecting Cairo and Cape Town by rail. Today, he quite likely would be labeled a white supremacist. Arrogantly, he created Rhodesia out of a massive area in the heart of Africa. In fact, Zambia was known as Northern Rhodesia until the mid-sixties, and Zimbabwe did not shed the Rhodesia name until 1980. Fortunately, his most famous legacy, The Rhodes Scholarship at Oxford, once offered only to white males of the Commonwealth, has, since his death, been amended to include all genders and races from around the world.

It’s called an ultra-light, and I highly recommend the experience. I’ve done a lot of flying in my lifetime. Small planes, big planes, and fighter jets as a USAF Flight Surgeon, but this was, without doubt, the most fun. As we taxied down the runway, we picked up speed. We were airborne amazingly fast before the early morning sun turned hot, sending the wind scorching through the flat African savanna.

A quick left bank, and we were following the river towards the cataclysm that the indigenous peoples named Shungu Namutitima – ‘Boiling Water”. Victoria Falls extended a mile and a quarter beneath us. Broiling cold mist rose from the falls and stung my face as we entered “The Smoke That Thunders.” Then, magically, the sun penetrated the mist, and we flew through rainbows. Seongo or Chongwe – “The Place of the Rainbow.”

Soaring above the rainbows, the boiling water, and the thundering smoke, my mind questioned the world that would replace these beautiful native images with the stogy persona of an aging Victorian Queen.

Just as quickly as the rainbows vanished, the pilot pointed out a series of giant parallel gorges cut into the landscape. They extended from the current falls onto the horizon. These were the remains of ancient falls, where tens, to hundreds to millions of years ago, water had rushed over their edge and into the chasm. He then pointed out where the current falls was eroding and, in a few millennia, a new falls would appear. I wondered who, if anyone, would be around to name that new falls.

Passengers on the Ultralight were forbidden to take cameras, phones, or anything that might fall from their pockets. The tour company, however, had mounted a GoPro on the wing tip, which was pointed back to the pilot and passenger. They recorded this once-in-a-lifetime adventure and were happy to share it with you – for $40 US. My video arrived after I was home, and I excitedly shared it with my daughter Stevie. I ignored it and then forgot that the video was in a time-sensitive file. It has since evaporated from the cloud, much like the mists of Vic Falls.

It was like walking through a car wash.