The Work of God

We scrub the last traces of ash from our clothes. Our bodies still feel sore from lugging buckets of water around the night before. It’s high time for a little holiday from the holiday and we have booked a room in a fancy hostel in Livingstone. But before we can flop into the pool and frolic in the AC we have one last challenge to master: 90km of dilapidated dirt road. Add a dollop of sand, a tablespoon of corrugation and a sprinkle of trucks and you have yourself a real treat.

We spend a couple of slightly miserable days choosing the “best” path through this failed state of a road. Our only solace is the knowledge that time moves forward and eventually this will pass too. And when it finally does, we howl in triumph and vow never again to take a smooth tarmac road for granted. Later the same day we’re back to grumbling about the potholes as usual.

When we first pull into Fawlty Towers Backpackers we’re immediately surrounded by excited travelers asking about our trip. But once checked in and with the bikes out of the way we are just two more tourists in a very touristy town. What a strange feeling to be overlooked again. We sign up for complimentary afternoon pancakes (!) and head out for the first of many delicious and overpriced meals. Let the holiday commence!

On one of our days off we go and see one of the main attractions of the trip: Victoria Falls. We weave our way through the crowd of curio sellers and the troop of baboons way too accustomed to humans and then there they are: The mighty Victoria… Trickles. The main part of the Zambezi is thundering into the gorge on the Zimbabwean side of the falls, out of view for us. At the end of the dry season on the Zambian side it’s just a couple of smaller falls and a whole lot of (still impressive) cliff.

We chuckle at the slightly underwhelmed feeling and set off to explore different viewpoints. As always Lina insists on a thick coat of sunscreen but this time she forgets to slather her neck and by the end of the day it’s medium rare and tender. A little further upstream we go for the most expensive coke of our lives (7USD for 300ml). The hotel bar is right next to the Zambezi and hippos get drunk there too. Zebras and giraffes are regular guests at the hotel spa, so maybe 7 dollars is a fair price for this mini safari with complimentary coke.

A while ago, when we were looking for places to stay in Livingstone, a couple of fellow cyclists sung the praises of a Christian mission so passionately that we decided to add some extra time off there. So after two days in town we pedal further downstream of the falls on a 10km gravel road to the Overland Missions headquarters. We set up camp with a fabulous view of the Zambezi gorge and join the students of the Advanced Missionary Training for lunch. They welcome us into the community in typical American (and Christian) fashion.

Everyone here seems to have had a religious upbringing and a very personal encounter with God that led them to Africa to spread the gospel. We put our own skepticism aside for a while and join in the daily musical worship. Right away we’re hooked by the catchy tunes. It almost seems like Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran are proclaiming that Victory belongs to the lord. The wind sweeps through the open building and one of the missionaries comes over to pray for us. We are certainly moved (though not quite converted) by the music.

After scampering down and up the 850 gorge steps we pack a bag and briefly comment on how windy it is. Then we head over to the main building for a day of birdwatching on the cliff. After a few hours Ben goes back to the campsite to get his swimming stuff. Five minutes later Lina gets a call from him: “The tent has blown away!” When she comes running down the track Ben is busy salvaging the remains of the tent. All things considered we got off lucky, with only a few holes in the tent inner and no belongings swallowed by the gorge.

Thankfully (and once again) we are in a place full of kind people. They put us up in one of their tents for the night and we set up the repair shop the next morning. After a few hours of work, with Ben leading the charge as head seamstress, we’ve patched up all major holes. Aside from this particular mishap we’ve noticed a general pattern of wear and tear on the gear. Soles detaching from shoes, holes in the clothes, many inner tube punctures and perpetually dusty panniers. We slowly start to look less like fresh faced rookies and more like seasoned vagabonds.

Back in Livingstone we stock up for the next few days at the supermarket. The staff is busy putting up tinsel and Christmas posters, a reminder (if somewhat premature) that the year is coming to a close. We spring for a room one last time as we foresee many nights in our now battered tent in the future. The next day (after fixing yet another puncture) we are whisked away by a tailwind to the border with Botswana. We cross the Zambezi for the final time on a way sturdier bridge than all those months ago in Mozambique. Thank the Lord!