This was a nation on the eve on independence, a land scorched by sun, by years of bitter war. In these perilous circumstances, Peter Capstick commences what is surely the most thrilling safari of his stories career. He takes the reader to the stark landscape that makes up the Bushmen's tribal territories. There, facing all kinds of risks, members of the chase pursue their quarry in a land of legend and myth. the result is an exciting big-game adventure whose underlying themes relate directly to the international headlines of today.In this first person adventure, Capstick spins riveting tales from his travels and reports on the Bushmen's culture, their political persecution, and the Stone Age life of Africa's original hunter-gatherers. In addition, the author explains the economic benefits of the sportsman's presence, and how ethical hunting is a tool for game protection and management on the continent.Not since Peter Capstick's Africa has the author taken the reader along on safari. In this superbly illustrated book, Capstick returns to the veld with an ace video cameraman and leading African wildlife photographer Dr. M. Philip Kahl. one hundred of Dr. Kahl's striking color photos capture perfectly life and death in the "land of thirst."

    One bike. One tent. One hell of an adventure. Biking from Alaska to Mexico solo is hard enough. But when you throw in bad weather, flat tires, hair-raising roadways, and unpredictable grizzly bears, only a fool would keep going. Fortunately, Jerry Holl was just the fool for this particular two-wheeled odyssey. Coming off a lifetime of corporate positions, he wasn't exactly prepared--his most trusted companion on the trip was a bike he didn't know how to fix. But inexperience and lack of a concrete plan didn't stop him. For fifty-one days, Holl pedaled his way across two countries, encountering everything weird and wondrous North America had to offer. Downhills Don't Come Free takes you through the ups and downs (literal and figurative) of Holl's ride. By turns amusing and reflective, self-deprecating and self-assured, it chronicles every aspect of the journey, from the breathtaking vastness of the Alaskan-Canadian wilderness to the fortitude, generosity, and eccentricity of the people he met along the way.

    They take the reader from the backwoods roads of Georgia, to the high altitude of Ruidoso Downs in New Mexico; from the social decay of Atlantic City, to Scotland, where a pilgrimage for art's sake leads to a surprising encounter with history on a hilltop with a view of a fifth of the entire country. McPhee's writing is more than informative; these are stories, artful and full of character, that make compelling reading. They play with and against one another, so that Pieces of the Frame is distinguished as much by its unity as by its variety. Subjects familiar to McPhee's readers—sports, Scotland, conservation—are treated here with intimacy and a sense of the writer at work.