You Can Sit on the Edge of the World’s Largest Waterfall

Water rushes around me as I scoot closer to the rocky edge. I’m lying on my stomach, peering down through the mist as the Zambezi River thunders 300 feet into the craggy chasm that unfolds below. I let go and stretch my arms out, expanding to fill just a little more of this giant space. My tour guide holds on to my ankles, ensuring that I don’t also catapult over the ledge. My heart beats in sync with the roaring water.

I should be scared. I am, after all, lying on the basalt lip of Victoria Falls, the largest single-sheet waterfall in the world. But the adrenaline coursing through me carries only pure joy. I’m smiling as wide as the crisp rainbow framing my view. Bucket list: Check.

Victoria Falls—originally named Mosi-oa-Tunya, or "the smoke that thunders,” by the Kalolo-Lozi people—straddles Zambia and Zimbabwe in Southern Africa. It is comprised of five separate falls that combine to span approximately 5,600 feet, reaching around 360 feet tall at their highest point. For most of the year, it’s off-limits to swimming as 33,000 cubic feet of water plummet over the gorge every second. But during the low season, generally August to December, the Zambezi River slows enough to form a natural infinity pond called Devil's Pool. Of the three largest waterfalls in the world (the others being Niagara and Iguazu), Victoria Falls is the only one you can swim on the lip of. And it’s surprisingly accessible: adequate swimmers can reach it after a short walk and paddle through the waterway.

I’d felt the power of a waterfall up close before. When I was 11 years old, my parents took me on a boat tour of Niagara Falls. I got drenched. But I never imagined you could swim atop one until an adventurous friend I met while traveling in my twenties enthralled me with tales of the Devil’s Pool. (For reference, Victoria Falls is about twice as wide and twice as tall as Niagara.).

Over two days in Zimbabwe, my husband and I experienced Victoria Falls—one of the seven natural wonders of the world—from nearly every angle. First up: a 15-minute helicopter ride that allowed us to gauge the true scope of this massive crack carved into the landscape by the plunging and churning water. From that bird’s-eye vantage point, the individual falls were delineated and even at that great height, one could easily see the “smoke” the local tribes described. We also walked to the viewing points spread throughout Victoria Falls National Park for a head-on perspective. (Though the waterfall straddles two countries, the most expansive view is afforded from the Zimbabwean side.) Even in the low season, we were dusted with a light spray; I couldn’t imagine the roar and gush that befalls tourists when the river is running at its peak.

Nothing, though, beat actually swimming in its waters.

That adventure began well before we dipped a toe in. Devil’s Pool is located on Livingstone Island, in Zambia. We were staying in Zimbabwe, at the Ilala Lodge Hotel (where we were warned to lock our patio door while out because of “problems with monkeys”), so we had to cross the border, and two passport control offices, in order to reach the island. Because of the danger that comes with playing in a waterfall and the sacredness of Livingstone Island to the indigenous communities, Devil’s Pool is only accessible with a guide (we used Tamuka Travel). My husband and I were grateful for ours, as he helped us navigate through the throngs of locals also shuttling between the two countries and for whom lines were nonexistent.

Once through the border mayhem, we were dropped off at base camp for the obligatory safety briefing. Then we boarded a speedboat for a short, zig-zaggy ride along the Zambezi. Along with a mini safari: We spotted zebras feeding in the grass, and the heads of hippos rose in the water like Whac-A-Mole.

At Livingstone Island, our small group stripped down to our bathing suits and walked the sandy, rocky path to the river’s edge. Goosebumps popped up along my arms as I swam upstream and crab-walked over shallow rocks. Within a few minutes we reached the jagged outcropping that marked the entrance to the Devil’s Pool. After clambering down, I only had to paddle a couple of strokes to reach the ledge and lie down.

I flipped over and pushed myself to a seat, my arms—and my smile—once again spread wide. Tiny fish nipped at the soles of my feet, tickling them. “Keep your legs down,” the guide reminded me as I shifted around. (Safety protocol point one: If you let your calves float up, the current may take the rest of you with them right over the side.)

Too soon, it was time to head back. I floated away from the ledge, but as I put my hands on the slick rocks to get out of the water, I hesitated. The current was strong, making it difficult for me to push against it and haul myself up. But that wasn’t the problem. I simply wasn’t ready to leave.

When Scottish missionary David Livingstone (for whom the island is named) first set his eyes on the natural wonder that he rechristened Victoria Falls, he proclaimed it “the most wonderful sight I had witnessed in Africa.” More than 160 years later, I was walloped with the same sense of awe. It had taken me 15 years and 9,000 miles of flying to get here, but I had made it. I turned around to take it all in one final time and let the smoky wisps of the rushing river fall over me, anointing me with their strength.

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