I board the Island Spirit in Peterburg, a small fishing community of the Alexander Archiplago of Southern Alaska. We leave port on the evening tide, sailing up Frederick Sound at a leisurely 10 knots per hour. Within minutes, any hint of human encroachment disappears. All that’s left is pristine Alaska immensity. Distant snowy peaks sparkle in the clear dusk light.
In Cappadocia, or “Land of Beautiful Horses” in the language of its Bronze Age Hittite settlers, history is hewn into the rock, by the elements and the various human waves that have inhabited it since pre-Hellenic times.
I land at Istanbul Atatürk Airport and immediately find immersed in the mystique of the millennia-old oriental city. Fortunately for visitors, successive dynasties of Byzantine kings, Roman caesars and Ottoman sultans conveniently settled themselves within and on top of their predecessors’ seat of power, in the Old City neighborhood of Sultanahmet.
“Once the red dirt of Africa gets into your hiking boots, you will never get it out.” The place was Kuyenda, a tiny bush camp in the heart of Zambia’s remote South Luangwa National Park and the first stop on my first African safari. The year was 2006. The soft-spoken words came from a man who knew what he was talking about.
La Route des Vins, the 170 kilometer itinerary that meanders north to south through the legendary Alsatian Vineyard abound with villages and towns filled with picture-perfect half-timbered facades and window-boxes of cascading red geraniums. Along the way, a proliferation of noted eateries dish out the succulent specialties for which Alsace is renowned.
With its four Porini Camps, (Porini is Swahili for “into the wild”), Amboselli Porini, Porini Rhino, Mara Porini and Porini Lion, Gamewatchers Safaris offers innovative small tented camps on private conservancies located in close proximity to the renowned Amboseli and Masai Mara National Parks.
The four-seater Cessna drones on for an hour over the flat, featureless terrain of the Kalahari desert. This is the Makgadikgaki, one of the largest saltpans in the world. Suddently the barren eternity is interrupted by an improbable line of fan palm trees. “Jack’s Camp,” my pilot volunteers as he begins his approach toward the oasis’ dusty landing strip.
In the midst of rolling highlands on the southeastern border of the Serengeti National Park, the three million year old Ngorongoro crater is all that remains of a once massive volcano.
I was barely in my teens when travel became a driving force in my life. Now as a travel writer and photographer, I have visited over 45 countries in some of the most photogenic corners of the planet, taking tens of thousands of pictures along the way. With my work, I thrive to capture the natural… and cultural uniqueness of each area I visit. Get to know me better…