There were no thundering hooves of fleeing buffalo or barking of zebra this afternoon. Even the coos of the turtle and wood doves were subdued owing to the heat. We gently slid into the mokoro. Kenneth leaned on his long pole, skillfully balancing in the prow, and we silently glided ...
I sit in a mokoro, or African dug-out canoe, my eyes only a metre above the waterline. My feet are stretched out before me, with my camera gear between my knees, and I am resting on a cushion, with the expert poler standing behind me. I have no idea how ...
We were in the Okavango Delta, on the edge of an island of woodland overlooking an open floodplain, sipping cocktails and enjoying the changing sky; the evolving russets, oranges and reds of the sunset. I was with a wonderful family from California - three generations, so there was quite a ...
