I'm trying to find out what's actually true, which is nearly always something, if not a world of things, that you can't read in books.

I remember surfing in Fiji, Samoa, Tonga, even Madeira, when local fishermen had never seen a surfboard before, and refused to believe that we could ride a wave on one.

It's so much harder than it looks - to conjure a fictional world that some passing wolf of skepticism can't just blow down in one breath.

I'm trying to find out what's actually true, which is nearly always something, if not a world of things, that you can't read in books.

You're after something - not a story, but a certain, exquisitely intense encounter with beauty - and the only way to find it is to tiptoe past the dragon's cave.

The differences between the received wisdom, the standard version of events, and the facts on the ground may be subtle or they may be stark, even profound.

Memoir is a weird genre for a reporter. You end up investigating your own memories, reporting out your past.