We descend steps and walkways made with concrete and small chunks of stone that are slippery from condensation. The air is beyond humid and breathing is hard. It feels like a layer of dust is physically clinging to the inside of my throat. We get to the first overlook on the mainland. Mist billows around us. My raincoat is zipped up as high as it will go and the hood is pulled as tightly around my face as possible. (I look like the ultimate dweeb.) We hit the bridge and water is hitting us at enormous speeds, water is seeping in under my chin and in through my pockets.
Halfway across the footbridge we turned around and saw a rainbow which was almost a complete circle with the bridge going through the centre of it. We arrived on the island and walked around trying to find the perfect picture for Gwen and Chad.
Scenic Outlook #1: Came across a guy sniffing white powder. We beat it out right quickly.
S.O. #2: I was brave and went off the path to see the mighty Zambezi roaring off into the distance… saw the bridge where other people are really, really brave (stupid?!) and jump off.
S.O. #3: Water cascading down the hill toward a square of paved stone jutting out into the abyss of mist. I was afraid the current would pull me over the edge so I looked at the mist from afar.
S.O. #4: More jutting out pavement with no railing around! I had a conniption for you Mom!
On the bridge back over to firm solid ground the wind driven ‘mist’ seriously tried to launch me into the gorge, so I felt it necessary to walk with feet planted wider than shoulder width apart, hand clenching the moss covered steel bars (placed @ 4”o/c), hunched over as to lower my centre of mass and with eyes pinned on each anticipated step forward. I hear a throat being cleared. I look up. I have, quite unconsciously and very adeptly, blocked off the bridge to those wanting to traverse the opposite direction. I apologized profusely and pried my fingers from one side of the bridge long enough for the traffic jam to clear.