Australia offers some of the world’s best scuba diving sites, all of which offer an incredible experience in terms of marine life and access to coral reefs.

If you’re not aiming for a particular part of Australia (because you have friends or relatives who live there that you want to spend time with) then the country’s your oyster, so to speak. After all there are more than 11,000 beaches that are located on every side of the country; at least 8,222 islands located within its maritime borders; and this unique country offers access to hundreds of coastal reefs on both its western and eastern sides.

So, once you have arranged your flights and travel insurance, there are many great sites for scuba diving in Australia; these are three of the best.

The Great Barrier Reef
The Great Barrier Reef is located off the east coast of Australia, and is within the territory of Queensland. Well known as being “the world’s largest living structure” the Great Barrier Reef is also “the only living organic collective visible from Earth’s orbit”, as the Australian Government states on its web site.

In fact the only way to really appreciate the sheer size and spectacle of the Great Barrier Reef is to see it from above. It covers more than 300,000 km² or 115,830 square miles, and incorporates some 3,000 individual reefs of different sizes. There are also many islands scattered through the reef area, along with numerous, indescribably beautiful coral cays.

If you choose to dive the Great Barrier Reef, you’ll be assured of seeing a multitude of marine species and other wildlife: from more than 200 bird species, to turtles, dolphins, whales, sharks and more than 1,500 other species of fish, about 4,000 types of mollusk and of course more coral species than you could ever imagine.

Unfortunately pollution (and probably climate change) has had a marked toll on the Great Barrier Reef, and the Australian Government has had to take urgent steps to prevent the situation deteriorating further. With more than 2,000,000 people visiting the reef each year, this is a task that has to be tackled with great sensitivity.

Before you visit the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park, find out where you are allowed to scuba dive and make sure you tread gently. Don’t leave more of a footprint than you need to.

Ningaloo Reef
Located on the west coast of Australia, near Coral Bay and the fishing town of Exmouth, Ningaloo Reef is not anywhere near as well known as the Great Barrier Reef, and so it is less populated – particularly in terms of scuba divers. Nevertheless, it is, like the Great Barrier Reef, a World Heritage Site and many people who have dived both sites often say they prefer the latter, even though it is tiny when compared to the greatest reef on earth!

Identified as the largest fringing coral reef, Ningaloo is an awesome scuba diving site because it caters for every level of diver, from complete amateur to those who are highly experienced. It’s close to the shore, and there are parts where you can literally paddle out and see some amazing fish with the least amount of effort. If you want to get a bit further out to the reef, a number of sailing charter boats offer Ningaloo Reef diving tours.

Highlights of Ningaloo Reef include swimming alongside gentle-giant whale sharks and witnessing their annual aggregation, where hundreds of these incredible creatures gather along the coral reef. Another is turtle spotting, particularly in the mating season when tens of thousands of turtles make their nests along this stunning section of Australian coast.

Scott and Seringapatam Reefs
While the Great Barrier Reef is on the east coast of Australia, and Ningaloo is on the west coast, these stunning reefs are located in the north-west, above the also amazing Rowley Shoals in the Timor Sea. There are as many as four separate reef structures here, and all well worth diving (provided you know what you are dong – it’s not a place for amateurs).

Scott Reef is described as a “coral atoll” and the water around it ranges in depth from 400 m to 700 m (or in feet, from about 1,300 to 2,300). This is one of the most remote reefs you will ever find, and apart from being great for scuba diving, it’s a brilliant spot for snorkeling and for fishing.

This week reform is blossoming across the beautiful country of Burma. We remember the hushed whispers about then prisoned “The Lady.” Two years later that lady is free and this week claims victory to a historic election. Cautiously hopeful a new day is dawning in Burma, here are portraits of the gently resilient Burmese.

Parasol Makers | Inle Lake, Burma

Thanaka Baby | Bagan, Burma

Fisherman | Inle Lake, Burma

The Long Walk Home | Inle Lake, Burma

Cheroot, Burmese Cigar | Bagan, Burma

Boat Driver | Inle Lake, Burma

Giving of the Alms | Mandalay, Burma

Luongi Maker Hard at Work | Mandalay, Burma

Karen Woman | Inle Lake, Burma

Scenes from Inle Lake | Burma

Rush Hour | Yangon, Burma

Lady Shepherd | Bagan, Burma

Street Vendor | Yangon, Burma

Morning Commute | Mandalay, Burma

Baby on Board | Inle Lake, Burma

Café Tortoni

Argentina's most famous cafe - Cafe Tortoni

Café Tortoni’s service is gruff, but always impeccable. You won’t mind that your waiter is not trying to chat you up after ordering the piping-hot churros and chocolate. Waiters expertly serve rich hot chocolate from still richer-looking copper kettles and matching cups. You will need the accompanying milk to relax the thick, lava-like chocolate. After dipping a warm, sugar-coated churro in your hot chocolate, you will feel the guilt that comes with such decadence, but not enough to deter you from dipping again and again.

If you need a jolt after the soporific chocolate indulgence, order a cortado, or espresso, to get your mettle back. Then, take a peak behind the velvet curtains to take in one of the café’s tango shows or head to the back to shoot some pool. Undoubtedly, after such an elegant experience and a look around at the walls of Café Tortoni, you will leave with a better history of the city and understanding of its people.

Café Richmond

Amidst the frenetic chaos of Florida Street, Cafe Richmond is a bastion of cool and calm

The décor is classic 1920’s with old chandeliers casting a warm glow over the long, meandering room. There are places still where a heavy haze of smoke just seems right. Café Richmond is one of them. Although smoking was banned in indoor bars and cafés a few years ago here in Buenos Aires, there are a few loopholes to get around the law. For this and to appease many of its clientele that have been frequenting the café for years, there is a smoking solarium toward the back. The bathrooms of the café are equally impressive in their décor and are worth a gander (seriously) when you patronize the place. Hang out at The Richmond long enough and you might begin to channel the writing voices of two of its leading habitués – Graham Greene and Jorge Luis Borges.

Cafe Richmond on Calle Florida is where Mad Men congregate

Café La Biela

La Biela is where the tres chic Portenos come for their cafe con leche

Patrons of La Biela have the fortune of enjoying their café con leche alfresco. Outside, one can enjoy a favorite Porteno pastime, people-watching. Indulge your curiosities and pass judgment on (or pretend to be totally indifferent to) the many tourists taking in impromptu tango shows, snapping photos of Recoleta Cemetery or admiring the bright white Nuestra Senora de Pilar Catholic church. In cooler months, this is a great place to warm yourself in the afternoon sun; during summer, cool off in the shade if you can snag a table underneath the great limbs of the famed ombu trees with their Wizard of Oz-like appearance.

Patio area at La Biela shaded by the long-limbed ombu tree

Las Violetas

The stained glass windows of Almagro's Las Violetas is more coffee cathedral than cafe

Enter through the gold-plated revolving door on Avenida Rivadavia and you will think you’ve entered a café built by Willy Wonka – the 1920’s version. The first thing you’ll notice are the magnificent glass cases filled with every type of sweet pastry your heart could desire: giant alfajores – mini shortbread cakes filled with dulce de leche and coated with sugar – and their baby offspring, fruit cakes, medialunas, cherry danishes, chocolate pastries, cakes and éclairs.

Like many other cafes of its time that sadly no longer exist, Las Violetas is enormous, having enough space to seat 200 guests at one time. Ceilings flaunting gold chandeliers rise 30 feet above finely-crafted Italian marble floors. The café was made more European during the 1920′s by the addition of French stained glass windows, giving it a bright, airy and open feeling. Female or not, one must head upstairs where the ladies’ restroom is located to take a gander at the café in all of its glory.

In a nod to Arthur Guinness, Las Violetas serves its coffee black as oil and thick as mud with a white, frothy, bubbling top. If tea is more your cup, then look no further than the Maria Cala tea service – an over-the-top spread of scones, finger sandwiches, cakes and pastries, meant for three, but large enough for six!

Bar and cafe at Alvear Palace Hotel in Recoleta

Meet Beijing, where old greets new.

Music: Sigur Ros

Untitled from Cullen Keller on Vimeo.

Morning view of Mt. Kilimanjaro from Moshi, Tanzania

I’m in Moshi, Tanzania enjoying my morning cup of chai. The rooster crowing begs cloud-shrouded Mt. Kilimanjaro to peak out above me, revealing the fresh blanket of snow she received from the storm brewing the night before. I hear the whooshing sound of straw brooms whisking storefronts clean of the dusty roads amidst Swahili calls of “Jambo! Mambo?” from street-side vendors.

As the town wakes up and the locals of this verdant, coffee-growing, banana-planting town start their day, I’m packing up my bags. Gearing up for a long haul on the roads of Tanzania, I prepare for the journey to our next destination. It’s a typical Monday morning for me…only it’s not. This is the kind of travel day I’ve come to know, loathe and love so well, but this one, it’s the last.

Taking in sunset together over the Taj Mahal

On the road for 14 months, travel has become a part of me. With only a week left, I’m overcome with emotion, my head flooded with a million memories. From the bustling streets of Buenos Aires we’ve made our way around the world to the traffic-choked lanes of Nairobi. We trekked through the Alps – both Southern and Swiss – and climbed to great heights to the peaks of the Himalayas. On camel back, we caravanned deep into the Indian desert and bathed elephants in the rivers of Thailand. We biked through rice paddies in southwest China and kayaked through the crystal clear waters of the Fijian Isles. We’ve watched the morning sun peak out over the Taj Mahal and the Great Pyramids and cast afternoon shadows over the Sydney Opera House and Serengeti.

We’ve become well-acquainted with squat toilets and sleepless nights wrapped in mosquito nets and taken more journeys than we’d care to admit on rat-infested trains. We brush teeth under the trickle of our water bottles and share bathrooms with armies of ants. We pop anti-malaria pills like they’re Flinstone vitamins and that little pink bottle of Pepto-Bismol has become a best friend. We carry our closets on our backs and these memories in our hearts.

Embarking on our around the world trip, I was prepared to have my reality turned on its head. But after traversing the globe, I realize I could have never fully prepared for the unforgettable shift of consciousness that was to take place.

The journey was, in a word, transformative.

A New Zealand sunset over Marlborough Sounds

Reflecting on these experiences, I can’t help but think back on the girl I was. I remember packing up my backpack and feeling so uneasy leaving those jeans and hairdryer behind. I remember the cold, hard feeling of the backpack, fully loaded, on my shoulders for the first time, wondering why my business traveler, rolling suitcase couldn’t fit the bill. I remember standing in the airport getting ready to take off on our first transcontinental flight, realizing I didn’t have a phone, blackberry or voicemail to check. I remember feeling free.

And that feeling of freedom, of sheer adventure that comes with the uncertainty of where we will lay our head each night, that is what I think I will miss the most. I will miss when our days were our days, when every minute decision became a challenge. I will miss meeting fascinating people from around the globe – locals and travelers alike – whose stories have inspired and touched me deeply.

Of course there are countless things I miss from home. I miss talking to my mom every day and going on runs with my dad. I miss walking barefoot into the bathroom in the middle of the night. I miss the familiar sound of my friends’ voices on the other end of the telephone line. I miss crisp sheets and the smell of clean laundry. I miss the change of seasons, though I never thought I would.

The challenging part? I’ve begun to feel most comfortable in my skin when I’m uncomfortable. In our ever-changing environment, I’ve become a chameleon, continuously adapting to my surroundings. I thrive on the challenge, the vulnerability I feel when everything around me is unfamiliar and foreign. It’s in this raw, heightened state that I feel most alive, and somehow awakened to everything around me.

Standing proud atop Nepal's Annapurna Base Camp at sunrise

With an experience like this, not a day went by that I wasn’t overwhelmed with gratitude. The crippled Indian boy walking on his hands through our train car sweeping garbage for spare change, that Burmese rickshaw driver all gussied up for a day of waiting in front of our hotel for the chance to make a buck, those twelve precious orphans who captured my heart in Zambia, these are images that fill my head. Reminded daily in these surroundings, I’ve grown grateful for the things I’ve grown up taking for granted. The reality is that no matter where my path of life leads me, it’s not likely I’ll ever have to worry about putting food on the table, a roof over my head and finding clean water to drink. For the thousands of others we met along the way, these thoughts consume their days.

Carrying my little Zambian bundle of joy on my back, African-style

And with this gratitude, comes the sincere appreciation for having someone to share the experience with. Lots of people ask me how I could ever want to spend 400 consecutive days, every waking minute, with my husband. My thought: how could I not? Of course there are days when we’re more on par with the Costanza’s than the Brady’s, but this experience as a couple has been more profound than our thirteen years together combined. There have been so many moments of sheer bliss on this trip, when we pinch each other, knowing we are living our dream. But it’s been the trying moments, the weak and vulnerable times together, that have been the most meaningful. Catching each other’s watery eyes from across the taxi as we drive through the slums of Mumbai, laying awake together at night pondering the plight of the Burmese, a squeeze of the hand as we look down together in the alley at the families in Buenos Aires fumbling through our trash and watching each other coddle the orphans in Zambia as if they were our own, these are the moments I’ll cherish. These are the times when those often hidden layers of ourselves are revealed. Seeing each other react to a kind of helplessness and desperation that we before couldn’t have even imagine existed, it somehow connects us on a deeper level.

My close friends and family who have a real understanding of what this journey has been have expressed a bit of concern on how we will handle getting back. “How are you ever going to adjust to reality?” they ask. The thing is, I guess, our reality somehow seems different. We’ve opened our world and aren’t about to close the book.

My Zambian kids said it best. Gyrating their hips and tapping the water pump to the beat of the latest Zambian hip-hop song, they sang to me: “Bring it back now, bring it, bring it back now!” And that’s exactly what we plan to do. We’re going to bring these lessons, this global perspective, the heightened state of awareness, back home with us. It’s not going anywhere.

A week from now I’ll be standing in an airport again, ready to board that last transcontinental flight. Something tells me that backpack is going to rest a bit easier on my shoulders and those jeans just might feel a bit funny on my hips.

Some people grow up knowing they want to be a doctor or pilot. I grew up knowing I wanted to see the world. After 14 months on the road, I have to say: I’ve only just begun.

Here are true tales from this Botswana journey.

Chobe Riverfront

Elephant parading down to the riverfront for a morning drink

By the time we made it to Chobe, we were pretty well-versed in our safari routine. Up at sunrise to pack up our home (our trusty rooftop tent), we threw down a cup of instant coffee and brushed our teeth under the trickle of our water bottles. It was then time to hit those dusty roads for the sparkling blue waters of the Chobe riverfront.

The morning game drive was a testament to what we’d already read. The area is home to some of Africa’s best game viewing and the density of wildlife is simply mind-boggling. We could hardly drive ten feet without some outstanding wildlife interaction. With each turn more elephants appeared in the horizon before parading down to the waterfront for an early-morning thirst quencher. The white-faced African Eagle stood guard on the tip-tops of trees and Lappet-Faced Vultures hovered overhead awaiting their turn to pounce. Herds of cantankerous zebras leapt inches from our car while statuesque kudus listened to our every word with their conch-shaped ears. Onto the carpet of green we found warthogs, gazelles, bushbucks and wildebeest with tails a waggin’ as they grazed peacefully aside massive Cape Buffalo. It was the greatest show on earth, the circle of life, all around us.

The captivating eyes of a leopard just feet above our car

And the grand finale? That was the leopard’s alone. Not one but two of the typically elusive leopards made a grand appearance in the final hour of our day at Chobe riverfront. Parking our car on the edge of the lush woodlands, we were about to get a lesson on the birds and the bees – feline-style. A male leopard encircling our car tried to catch the attention of his coy, female counterpart lounging on the sturdy branch of the sausage tree just feet above our car. Her ferocious hiss showed us who was in charge and informed us our birds and bees lesson was on hold, at least for now.

Linyanti

Settling into camp in remote Linyanti

Moving on from the well-trodden safari path of the Chobe riverfront, we headed to the area known as Linyanti. For better and worse, Linyanti is way off the beaten track. Out in the middle of the bush in the secluded northwest section of Chobe, there is no other sign of life here but the elephants and hippos who inhabit the area. These are the kind of places that always attract us, but, in this case, we learned we should have come a bit more prepared.

We arrived early afternoon to Linyanti to find the most pristine, unspoiled campsite in all of Southern Africa. We set up camp to the sound of baboons jumping overhead and warthogs snorting gleefully as they munched on the branches leftover from the elephants’ lunch. It wasn’t till late afternoon, however, when we realized these would be our only companions way out here in the bush. No other travelers had decided to brave the drive out to this remote area of the park so here we found ourselves miles away from any sign of human life.

By night, it was thrilling. We were completely on our own. We built a massive fire and cooked a feast before settling up in our rooftop tent. Wrapped up like sausages in our sleeping bags, we fell asleep to the sound of splashing hippos feet away while gazing up at a sky twinkling with a trillion stars.

The sand roads of Chobe, just begging for us to get stuck

But when we woke up, this was a different story. Twenty minutes into our drive back to civilization, we buried ourselves knee-deep in sand. We were out in the open, bait for the hundreds of animals lurking around with no choice but to dig ourselves out. Ryan spent all morning with shovel in hand while I was stood watch for approaching animals. As I mentally prepared myself for camping out in this area where we were told it might be days before another person might pass by to rescue us, Ryan’s new-found 4WD skills saved the day. We made it out of the sand, but this issue presented another problem. In trying to get ourselves out, we’d eaten up loads of gas and were running well on empty. But lo and behold, the angels of the bush must have been looking out for us. These angels came in the form of a caravan of boisterous and well-prepared South Africans with enough extra diesel to fuel a jetliner.

No phone, no GPS and rarely a sign of human life, we were quite naïve being way out here on our own. In Linyanti, it was clear we’d used up our nine lives.

Savute

It was time for the flat expanse of the park known as Savute. The scorching sun of the desert landscape and dead trees providing a limited amount of shade usually transform this place into a thirst-land for animals scrounging for water. We had high hopes of big game sightings in Savute, but instead what we got was a big storm and a surprise reunion with friends from the road.

The calm before the storm at Savute campsite

We’d met two French families during our journey through Namibia. We bonded quickly after learning they too were on similar year-long around the world trips (theirs with kids!). Because misery loves company, our mutual vehicle woes did even more to solidify the bond. We spent the day with our Frenchie pals rehashing bush tales around camp, only interrupted by elephants traipsing around our tents and the afternoon sun colliding with heavy rains.

Hiding from the rain on the tailgate of our car, we paid homage to our hometown on this Halloween night over cans of the classic Botswana brew, St. Louis Lager. Then it was time for one last rendezvous with our travel pals with burgers and baked beans cooked over a roaring fire.

Catching up at camp with our French travel pals

While this day was nearly devoid of game sightings, sharing this night with our Parisian friends was special in and of itself. Quitting our jobs to travel the world had many of our pals back home wondering if we might have a screw loose. It’s so refreshing on the road meeting people like this…who share the same thirst for adventure, who are looking for more out of life than the that nine to five gig and who are willing to take the risk to find it.

Out here in the middle of the African bush, we watched our new pals share these transformative experiences with their kids. And, well, it makes us pretty certain this isn’t the last time we embark on this sort of journey.

First stop on our Southern African 4×4 safari was the otherworldly and postcard-worthy sand dunes of Sossusvlei. Like many others I had begun to associate the entire country of Namibia with these impossibly beautiful giant dunes and the neighboring “Dead Vlei,” a crazy Dali-like formation of petrified trees creeping their way out of a salt flat in the middle of absolutely nowhere. When I picture Hell, this is what I see.

Here is a photographic run-down of our trip to Namibia’s finest attraction.

Sesriem

The drive to Sesriem (car problems withstanding) was incredible. Nowhere in the world had we driven so many miles without seeing a single person, not another vehicle, nor home, nor even a sign of life. The final stretch into Sesriem Canyon with the sun setting over the mountainous sand dunes was a picture of the reason why we came to Namibia. We arrived to our campsite after dark, which is when we discovered a very important problem with the vehicle: the lights didn’t work. Now, not only is it dangerous to drive at night but it’s extremely dangerous to drive at night with no lights!

We settled in quickly and set up camp. We broke bread (PB&J, really) and grabbed a hot shower to wash away the first day’s troubles. Then it was onto our mobile home and bed on the roof of the Land Rover. Camping out under the stars on our tent atop our car, in the middle of the desert, helped to assuage any misgivings I had about opting to travel independently.

Our second day in Sesriem we headed to the famous Sesriem Canyon, a narrow gorge splitting open the earth and running for a mile. The day was scorching hot and we would need plenty of water. The good news is that when you travel with your home your kitchen is never far away. We hiked through the canyon, taking in the desert views and appreciating the crazy rock formations. More interesting is the birdlife and many insects that can inhabit such a forbidding place.

In the late afternoon we headed to Elim Dune to watch the sunset over the Namibian valley. Watching the sun set over the valley floor atop the massive red dune was a serene sight. All around us were mountains of yellow sand glowing red in the fading light of just another day gone by. This was an image that had captured my curiosity from across the world and had drawn me right here to this very spot.

Sossusvlei

The true gem, however, and reason that so many people from around the world are drawn to this part of Africa is the area of Sossusvlei, 60km away from Sesriem. The massive sand dunes of Sossusvlei are best viewed at sunrise or sunset. We decided against our body clocks to start off our day at dawn the following morning.

We woke up early, packed up our rooftop tent in the dark, and headed to Dune 45, a magnificent-looking but poorly-named dune, you guessed it, 45km from Sesriem on the road to Sossusvlei. Hands down, this was one of the highlights of our year. When we arrived to the dune, the rising sun had split the dune in two: the eastern facing half basked in the morning sunlight and the western half cloaked in shadows, still awaiting its share of the sun.

We started up the dune ridge and were instantly entranced by the desert’s dual personality. On the dark side, the sand was cool and felt like I was putting my foot into a pool of cold water. On the bright side, the sand was scorching, even this early in the morning. This felt like my bare feet were being put into a frying pan. The trek to the top took about 40 minutes but the views were absolutely worth it. Taking in the opposite views from the sunset before from atop another sand dune, Laura and I couldn’t help but appreciate the ying and yang dichotomy that takes place here each day. We sat up there for almost an hour, watching the sun creep its way northward and begin to warm the day before we decided the time was right to slalom our way down the dune and head to Sossusvlei’s other otherworldly landmark – Dead Vlei.

We drove 15km to the Dead Vlei entrance. It was here that we’d first get to put our 4×4 gears to work. It’s a 5km drive through some seriously thick sand to get to Dead Vlei. All the 2×4 vehicles had to park their cars and 4×4 taxi their way there, but not us. Laura was rightly nervous, as I had no previous experience driving a 4×4 nor any vehicle through thick sand, but I was determined. We had rented a Land Rover for a reason I said.

So, I popped the newly-named Sand Lover into 4×4 and put it in second and began to wade the car through the sand. I say wading because that’s exactly what the car does. You give the car some gas and the momentum creates a quasi-wave that carries you through the sand. Several times I felt the vehicle begin to lose momentum and sputter so I had to throw it in first for a jolt and then back into second. This was nerve-racking but the sense of accomplishment a man feels when he reaches his destination is indescribable.

We made it to the entrance of Dead Vlei and began the arduous trek through already searing temps to Hell on Earth. The pictures here will do better than any description. We’ve been to many surreal destinations on this trip, but truly none more so than this place.

The experience of visiting Sossusvlei certainly met our insanely-hyped expectations and, alone, merited our visit to Namibia.

It was then onward and upward to the German town of Swakopmund where we would begin a legendary credit card dispute with our 4×4 rental company and find out the importance of being earnest.

Sunset over Moremi Game Reserve

Under this African sky littered with stars, I’m fighting off mosquitoes while journaling to the flicker of a citronella candle. We’ve just set up camp for the night, pitching our tent on the roof of our car. Two massive t-bone steaks sit beside me on a smoky braai (bbq) while our puny fire attempts to ward off the cacophony of sounds that surround. Hippos snorting, elephants trumpeting and lions roaring intermittently in the distance, it is the raw, rugged Africa we dreamed of. Deep in the African bush of Botswana, we realized we’d made it.

It didn’t take long for us to realize Moremi Game Reserve is a special place and quite unlike any wildlife park in the world. Encompassing 5,000 square kilometers in northern Botswana, it’s part of the inland river delta expanse known as the Okavango Delta. In stark contrast to the thorny forests and desert-like terrain of many of Africa’s great game parks, the Okavango Delta consists of a network of streams and marshland sustaining vast quantities of wildlife. The Moremi Game Reserve, however, is the only part of the Delta officially sectioned off for wildlife preservation, creating a flourishing oasis with the highest density of wildlife in all of Botswana.

Pitching our tent for the night in Moremi Game Reserve, Botswana

Aside from mass quantities of animals here, the exclusivity of the park helps add to its appeal. Accommodation is limited to those willing to fork out up to $1,000 a night for the handful of high-end luxury lodges or those experienced or brave enough to embark on a solo-4WD bush-camping expedition. This means absent in Moremi are those massive tour groups traipsing around the continent and crowds of people looking for their taste of the bush.

Experienced we were not, but armed with a, now reliable (story on this saga coming soon), 4WD vehicle, lots of guts and maybe a naïve sense of confidence, to Moremi we were bound.

There was a lot we couldn’t be prepared enough for. First off were the roads. We’d just wrapped up two weeks of bush adventures in Namibia where there was lots of talk about how nice and smooth the roads were. We didn’t know where the hell this reputation had come from as they were quite possibly the worst and most dangerous roads we’d ever seen. There we’d been the first to arrive to the scene of a fatal accident and had several close encounters ourselves. Once we arrived to Moremi, however, we got it. Roads here hardly exist. Tracks in the reserve are made of clay and sand. And boy is it ever thick. Like a Zamboni machine floating over ice, you’re not really driving, but just steering as you hover over the sand, weaving around windy paths of the forest.

Facing deep water on the roads of Moremi Game Reserve

The deep sand roads are reason enough to require a 4WD vehicle to enter the park, and then there is the water. Driving through the Delta meant we often came across marshland where water stood in our tracks. And it wasn’t just puddles of water we encountered. In some cases it was more like a river – waist-high. We had no choice but to test our wheels in the croc and hippo-infested water while crossing fingers we didn’t get trapped in the clay floor bed.

These were some trying moments, no doubt, but without them it wouldn’t have been the experience it was: the raw, rugged Africa we came for.

Now that I’ve painted a bit of a picture of the challenging conditions of the park, let me tell you about the beauty.

Marshland envelops Moremi Game Reserve

We arrived to our campsite mid-afternoon to begin our three days in the park. We were staying at Third Bridge Campsite, named after the third log bridge you pass from the South Gate entrance. Rustic would be an overstatement for the condition of the bridge over the idyllic Sekiri River, but picturesque would be an understatement for our locale. The campsite consisted of 10 isolated plots of land interspersed in the forest equipped with no more than a small stone slab on which to build a fire. Ours was number 10, way off in the distance in the most isolated section of camp.

The rustic log bridge over idyllic Sekiri River

Upon checking into our campsite, a hard-headed Batswana woman gave us a reality check on our surroundings: always be armed with a strong flashlight, build a big fire and don’t get out of your tent for any reason in the middle of the night. Midnight bathroom breaks are strongly discouraged and in an emergency we were to go together, right next to our vehicle and be on a guard for hyenas and big cats lurking. Confirming we were, in fact, flirting with a bit of danger way out here in the bush, Ryan declared this was the best check-in rundown we’d ever gotten.

Before concluding our check, the woman added, “Oh by the way, there was a kill today just up the road.” Within seconds we were off weaving down the sand roads and over dilapidated bridges to get a glimpse at our first kill and first real taste of Moremi. No more than 15 minutes away from where we were sleeping, we came across a male and female lion feasting on an enormous buffalo. It was just the two of us in the wild with two lions just feet away. We could hear their roaring purr and the crushing sounds of their jaw breaking the buffalo’s bones as well as the heavy, almost exaggerated, panting from the day’s work. Out there on our own with no one else around but the king of the forest with his lady and cub, we could hardly believe our eyes.

Female lion and her cub snack on their latest kill

Male and female lions cuddle up after noshing on a buffalo

This was the first of many spectacular wildlife moments in Moremi Game Reserve. We spent the next three days jaws dropped in complete awe of all that was around us. Morning and afternoon game drives brought us to all corners of the park. We watched giraffes graze on branches of trees where monkeys gathered with their young. In the shallows of rustling reed beds, we witnessed a ballet staring every hoofed mammal on the planet. There were kudus, impalas, gemsbock and springbok galore. Wildebeest, jackals and the ever-comical warthogs were plentiful and even a momma rhino and her baby made a debut. And splashing hippos were sure to make their presence known , with one trampling through our campsite one night amidst his thunderous snorts.

A male kudu proudly shows off his warrior markings

The king of Moremi takes a break from the sun

Ever-comical warthog grazing the grasslands

Hurrying back to camp each night after our sunset drives, we raced to beat the falling sun so we could set up camp in the comfort of the last light of day. One night we didn’t quite make it. But this was for good reason. On our way back to Third Bridge, we experienced, quite possibly, the most beautiful moment of our trip. Driving into the unrivaled African sunset the sky was adorned in a symphony of colors as we drove directly into a herd of 40 elephants.

Elephants fill the horizon against the unrivaled African sunset

At first startled by their mass presence, we started to veer our car elsewhere. We’d been taught to be on guard as the African elephant can be extremely aggressive, in some cases actually chasing down cars and tipping them over to protect their young. But this incident would be different. The approaching herd was nothing short of peaceful, graceful and magnificent, throwing the earth’s red dust into the air amidst the sinking hot sun. Now out on the top of our car, we looked at each other in pure amazement and were reminded again why we travel.

Taking in the breathtaking sunset in Moremi Game Reserve