The first glimpse of the sea, the anticipation as you headed down to the beach for the first time with the salty ocean air in your nose and the sand between your toes. 

The van started slowing as we rounded a blind corner and we all knew what that meant. We had been expecting this for some time already so it was no surprise. Except perhaps to our driver who muttered to himself as he processed the incoming data. We had run out of fuel 30 kms from the Kariba Marina on a blind corner in a wild National Park on the narrow, dangerous and busy highway between Harare and the copper mines of Zambia. "What do we do now" I asked helplessly. When

Surfed and turfed. I have fond memories from childhood holidays in KwaZulu Natal. Of Ice creams and sand castles on the hot brown sand before braving the waves on a blow up raft/lilo. Now, 30 years later on our first morning in Umhlanga, I confidently take Tristan by the hand for some body surfing in the strong, warm Durban surf. KwaZulu Natal is very much “between the flags” swimming and it is of particular importance at Umhlanga where dangerous black rock reefs run diagona

“Dad lets go fishing” Fishing. I have dangled a hook in all kinds of water, salt, fresh, running and still, from land and from boat but have yet to “fish”. My definition of which is to actually catch one. Of all fishing torture Fly fishing is the cruellest. How much slack line is required? Too much and it wraps around your feet, too little and the fly doesn’t reach the water. When does the rhythmic artistry of the cast become a frenzied staccato swatting, with the hook flyin