Devil’s Pool is for those thrill seeking adrenaline junkies. At 108m above the Falls, it's the highest natural pool in which one can go for a swim and still come back alive. While the very idea of taking a plunge into a pool, perilously perched on the very precipice (x4 fast go!) of the mightiest falls in the world may seem foolhardy to some, there's an undeniable thrill in tempting fate as anyone who has gone bungee jumping or skydiving will tell you.

Still high off my microlight flight I made my way to that 5-star colonial monstrosity that is the Royal Livingstone Hotel, to meet with the next adventure operator. Taking advantage of my lavish surroundings, a quick detour was made to the Men's on account of a dodgy braai the night before. With plenty of time to spare, I leisurely went about my business before relieving (heh) the stall of its spare roll of luxurious three-ply. Let me be clear: I am not proud of this. But as they say, "desperate times..." By way of justification, one must understand that the single-ply supplied at my hostel simply couldn't... er... hold it together. To ease my guilty conscience, I ordered a gin and tonic (what else?) and tipped the barman $5 in recompense for my toilet transgressions.

Attending Devil's Pool is a question of timing as it is only accessible during the dry season (April to October) when the flow of water is deemed weak enough to not be thrown over the side on a one-way bungee jump to oblivion. "Weak" here is a comparative term, because the currents seemed plenty strong as my fellow adventurers and I dove into waters of the Zambezi, only 100m from the edge, and told to swim to the pool just a ways off. This was prefaced with a perfunctory "are we all strong swimmers here?" Safety first. Silently thanking myself for religiously attending my swim classes last year, I swam alongside our guide, making damn sure to place him between myself and the falls.

#^&%3@ me!

The "Pool" in the name is a bit of a misnomer given its size. Although quite deep, its actual size is closer to that of a very large hot tub, although "Devil's Hot Tub" doesn't quite have the same ring to it and may attract an unscrupulous crowd.

Jumping into the pool is an exhilarating experience; still invigorated from the swim, you take the plunge and lower yourself into the water where a strong current takes you to the pool's edge where you're confronted by a wall of white mist and thunderous sound. It takes your mind a minute to overcome all the chemicals your adrenal glands are pumping into your bloodstream, and another two to restore any semblance of equanimity. When it finally does, you start to notice the little things: the multitude of rainbows iridescent in the mist, the thousands of tiny waterfalls cascading down the opposing wall, and the tourists waving cheerily to you as you hoot and holler, high on life. Taken together, it all amounts to a bit of sensory overload, which is a good thing because the water is diabolically cold and the threat of pneumonia imminent.

After being given the opportunity to dangle over the side for the requisite photo-op, you're asked to make way for the next group and swim back the way you came. All-in all about a half hour including the swim. You're then treated to a lovely breakfast on one of the many Zambezi islets before returning back to Livingstone.

Livingstone Museum left me with only one predominating thought: If my wife looked like that I'd have fucked off to Africa for 40 years as well!

Mary Moffat, wife of famous English explorer David Livingstone

My favorite of the lot, Angel's Pool was absolutely sublime

Having swam in it and flown above it, it was time to finally explore "The Mist that Thunders" on foot. Although Zim side may boast better views, it is the Zam side that has all the activities, including the underadvertised Angel's Pool.

Indeed, it wasn't until I started chatting with a local on the subject of his bold sunglasses that I learn of its existence. As we were talking, I watched as two figures made their way back from the edge of the opposing waterfall, completely sodden as if they had just gone for a swim. My raised eyebrows prompted a quick explanation, and fifteen minutes later I was making my way towards what would become the highlight of the entire day.

The way to Angel's Pool is an involved affair. With absolutely no signage nor infrastructure, the only way is a meandering trek through flowing currents, 100m from the Falls' edge. It requires sure-footedness, plenty of patience, a dash of crazy and, above all, a sense for adventure. A knowledgeable guide that is able to save you from being swept over the side (thrice!) is not mandatory, but highly recommended.

Tired of being hectored by locals, I decided (foolishly) that I would find my own way to the Pool. With perhaps more enthusiasm than sense, I began picking my way across the slippery rocks, but with no clear path, it's an exercise in trial and error. You may invest 20 minutes setting down one way, only to be confronted by a dead-end or a greater risk than you're willing to take. You'll then have to backtrack through strong currents, rocks slick with lichen and waist high water only to start anew down a different path. A setting sun, impending park curfew and a few close calls only served to frustrate matters.

After 45 minutes, I almost gave up. Thank God I didn't. Spurred on by the twin nephews of Regret, FOMO and YOLO, I persisted, and was rewarded by what I can only assume is the benevolence of St. Christopher.

Jon a.k.a. Saint Christopher

Unbeknownst to me, an off-duty guide had seen me set off on my own and, probably assuming that I was about to get myself killed, decided to follow me. Waving me over, he informed me that I was going the wrong way and, without looking to see if I would follow, told me to follow him as he set off.

One thing about travelling is that sometimes you have to just trust people. It's not easy, but opening yourself up to complete strangers is one of travelling's most rewarding aspects. You need to silence the cynic inside telling you that they're after something or just want to rip you off. Sometimes, people just want to help.

So with that we made our way to Angel's Pool. Having been there and back, I can say that there was no way I would have made it on my own. The route required traversing three sections of particularly strong currents and was fraught with slippery stones and deep water. I almost fell in a few times and Jon had to quite literally lend me a hand to get across.

But to the brave (or stupid) come the spoils. Set six meters below the main cliff-line, the Pool is about 10 meters in diameter and just as deep. Water overflows on the farthest edge of the Pool down another 100 meters, forming a kind of "stepped" waterfall. Navigating to a small outcrop of rock which forms a platform, Jon and I took turns leaping off with abandon, yelling and screaming. Above, the sky was ablaze with the setting sun while all around us the sounds of the Falls reverberated off the canyon walls. The best part was that we had the Pool entirely to ourselves!

Satisfied selfie after a day's adventuring

Not wanting to leave, but mindful of park curfew, we made our way back and although it was never once discussed, I made sure Jon was well compensated for his trouble.

My buddy Alex's favorite campsite of our Iceland trip. We camped in some guy's backyard and woke up to this view.

My favorite thing about the whole experience was that it was completely organic. When I went 4x4'ing around Iceland last year with two friends, the best experiences were unexpected: setting up our tent in complete darkness only to wake up to views like the one above, happening across a flowing river of thermally heated water and diving in, beers in hand and camping in rock quarries during which the sun never set. The most rewarding kind of travel is the spontaneous kind.