You cannot rely on the naked eye. The naked eye misses the nuance. It misses the hawk, off in the distance, on the pine bough. It misses the precise moment…
I was crouched in the swaying reeds of the Okavango Delta, tracking a rare Malachite Kingfisher. The air was thick enough to chew. I raised my trusty field glasses to…
We were in the old family wagon—a sturdy beast, or so we thought—navigating a pass that looked less like a road and more like a suggestion scribbled in snow. Then,…
I was sitting by a crackling fire in a draughty chalet in the Swiss Alps, nursing a dram of single malt from a flask that had seen more summits than…
I stood on the precipice of the third hole on the South Course at Torrey Pines. To my left, the sandstone cliffs of La Jolla plunged violently into the Pacific.…