Travel Writing Library

Cycling west out of Kathmandu in the post monsoon humidity, my clothes clung to me like a wrapper to a lollipop. I had gingerly negotiated my exit of this ancient city through the cacophony of traffic, pedestrians and livestock.

“This bus is awesome dad!” exclaims my 10 year-old son as we board the overnight-sleeper coach to Hampi. The other passengers have already spread themselves out so liberally it’s like scrambling through an obstacle course...

The Omo Valley of Southern Ethiopia is one of the most isolated places on earth.

A wave of heat engulfs us as the cabin decompresses. Outside the airport it’s difficult to spot a taxi through the crazy assortment of people clattering their luggage.

It’s the middle of the night over the middle of the Pacific. Thousands of miles from even Hawaii, which is thousands of miles from everywhere else. We’re twelve hours from home, barely finished with the meal service...

The sound of the siren’s ‘All Clear’ would prompt sighs of relief but on that particular night I recall my mother’s face remained empty, her movements flurried.

'Water is a problem, make sure you have enough.' The warnings resounded as we prepared to cross the Central Kalahari Game Reserve.