There comes a stage at which a man would rather die cleanly by a bullet than by the unknown terror of the phantom in the forest.

As a travel writer I've specialized in gritty, fearful destinations, the kind of places that make a reader's hair stick on end.

Spend sixteen weeks in the jungle and you being to question your own sanity, especially when you are the one goading everyone else ahead.

A little imagination goes a long way in Fes.

In Morocco, before you even get to the matter of the sale, you have to coax the owner to sell.

The desert was bad, but nothing could compare with the horrors of a tropical rain forest.

One senses that, in these conditions, no amount of wet-wiping could bring true hygiene.