Africa. Just the word itself conjures up images of a sunburned landscape. Of wild animals and even more wild tribes...
As a boy I'd read many books on the Dark Continent. Then, as a young man, I'd travelled in the footsteps of my heroes. Burton, Speke - and my favourite African adventurer, Samuel Baker. I had trekked overland from Cairo to Durban in an epic 13 month journey during my early twenties, relying on my wits and sometimes, naive innocence to get me through situations which arose.
Twice since then I'd revisited the continent on hunting safaris with my daughter, Taygen. As a hunter there was, however, one quest which had thus far eluded me. M'bogo. The Cape buffalo. And the most romantic place for such a hunt in my mind, the Selous region of Tanzania. When I say romantic it is in the quixotic sense, rich in tradition, painted in ritual, a hunt of dreamlike proportion. It was with me, like an itch which could not be scratched, until finally I succumbed to its pull. The only self-imposed proviso, that I hunt as the old hunters, those stalwarts who'd trekked this very same veldt before me. On foot. A real safari...