• Going Nowhere Slowly // A Roadtrip in 10 Pictures

    The magic that is Mymering and the beauty that is the open road.

    “Go outside. Don’t tell anyone and don’t bring your phone. Start walking and keep walking until you no longer know the road like the palm of your hand, because we walk the same roads day in and day out, to the bus and back home and we cease to see. We walk in our sleep and teach our muscles to work without thinking and I dare you to walk where you have not yet walked and I dare you to notice. Don’t try to get anything out of it, because you won’t. Don’t try to make use of it, because you can’t. And that’s the point. Just walk, see, sit down if you like. And be. Just be, whatever you are with whatever you have, and realise that that is enough to be happy.

    There’s a whole world out there, right outside your window. You’d be a fool to miss it.”

    – Charlotte Eriksson


    Punk posing ❤️

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    Xanadu at the end of Route 62

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    Waar die kranse antwoord gee..

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    “It’s in those quiet little towns, at the edge of the world, that you will find the salt of the earth people who make you feel right at home.” ― Aaron Lauritsen, 100 Days Drive

  • Carpe Diem in the Okavango Delta

    spontaneous / spɒnˈteɪnɪəs – adjective:

    performed or occurring as a result of a sudden impulse or inclination and without premeditation or external stimulus.
    synonyms: unplanned, unrehearsed, impulsive, spur-of-the-moment

    having an open, natural, and uninhibited manner.
    synonyms: relaxed, unselfconscious, free and easy

    Many things seem to come more easily to our little ones. As much as we try to teach them lesson after lesson, from the classroom to their own room at home, from drawing within the lines to sleeping in their own bed, they teach us. Daily. And not in an insignificant way. I see this constantly with my two bush boys. Now beach boys, being Cape Town rooted. I see their courage in a moment when I might be fearful. I see their “jump first, think later” spirit, their “play like no one’s watching” attitude and I wonder if it’s something we need to work harder at as adults.

    “Why not seize the pleasure at once? — How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!” – Jane Austen, Emma

    On our recent safari in Botswana, the ultimate lesson came from not only my two boys, but one large helicopter levitating before me. A friend surprised us with a chopper ride during our time in the Okavango Delta. We’d have been happy with a mug, Starla. Clean socks. My Little Pony. But a heli ride over one of the grandest waterways in all the world… While I got my mind around the selfless kindness of said friend and this exciting change of plans, Carlos and Renzi were already belting up and getting ready to fly.

    It is a branch in the tree of bravery to be able to leap at new experiences without thought, and it is perhaps one that children climb a little more eagerly than we, the parents.

    It’s a skill life calls for constantly. In the words of Carroll Bryant, “No matter how many plans you make or how much in control you are, life is always winging it.” In the traveller’s life, it is especially essential – the ability to risk security, to throw caution to the wind, to choose curiosity over fear. It is what opens up the world for us, like a fine pewter letter opener, slicing the sealed envelope open to reveal something life-changing inside. Something a lot like this… with all the squeals and smiles of joy that accompanied it.

    Thank you, dear boys, for continuing to teach Mama a few tricks of your own. And thank you, dear friends, for paving the way for those lessons. And smiles. (Boys and their helicopters…)

    Read more about our Botswana safari in our blogs:



  • How To Bring Up Brave Hearts

    I forget where I heard it, or when, but the words have never left me. Fear stands for False Evidence Appearing Real. As a mum, it’s easy to give in to it, to the false evidence, to project our minds into moments that may or may not happen, moments in the future that appear not only real but large and haunting like an evil shadow puppet in a dimly-lit room.

    It’s easy to give in to paranoia, because suddenly we have more than our own lives to protect. We have these precious little beings in our hands and unlike the antelope and elephants of our Animal Kingdom, we need to stay by our offspring’s side long after they learn to walk – an act that itself takes us humans much longer to master. We suddenly have not only our own hearts to protect, but also those parts of our hearts that now pulsate outside of our bodies.

    I have always refused to let fear rule our tribe. At least I have tried my very best. I have tried hard not to let the shadow puppets loom over us. Not only for my sake, for my own peace of mind, but for that of my boys. Living in the wild as we have for many years, and travelling frequently into wild spaces, now that we’re city folk, the possibility of danger has never been far from us. They have often shown themselves, those shadows… in the shapes of crocodiles and hippos lunging at our boat, scorpions beneath the pillow, black mambas chasing our safari vehicle, wild elephants flapping their ears. And then there are the sneakier, less easily detectable threats… like malaria.

    I have never denied that these threats exist. Our tribe is well aware of them. But, from experience, we know better how to predict an animal’s movements. We know which channels in a river to avoid, when it comes to the Zambezi. Mosquito spray accompanies us everywhere. We don’t walk alone at night – although if I keep up my treadmill training I might just be able to out-run our Zambezi hippos one day (a girl can dream). We don’t deny it all, but we don’t let that which has yet to happen, that which is unlikely to happen, take over our imaginations.

    To spend our entire lives in fear of that one accident would be a dishonour to this great blessing of a life on Earth.

    The same way stress is caused by being here, but wanting to be there, fear removes us from the present, from the moment where life resides. It is natural for us mothers to try to predict the future. Constantly. I’m not really sure we can escape that entirely. But the last thing we want to do is pass that stress on to our sons and daughters. Watching them in a playground, running wild and free, is all the lesson we need in being present and seeing the real not the false.

    For my sons, the wilderness has been as much of their playground while growing up as the jungle gyms of the suburbs. And because of experience, because of the freedom I (try) give them to play and explore, they treat both the same. Both Renzi and Carlos are as at home with a wildebeest or elephant herd or a soldier holding an AK47 (oh, the joys of African border crossings), as a flock of penguins on the beach at Boulders or an ice-skating rink in a mall.

    They’re still young. There are more choppy waters to cross… like asking a girl out or speaking in front of a crowd for the first time, because it isn’t only the wild animals of our adventuring lives that they’re going to face. There are those matters of the heart. But I believe that it’s all the same, ultimately. In the words of Eleanor Roosevelt,  “Do one thing every day that scares you.” Eventually… nothing will.

    And is that not the best we can do as Mums? Prepare our little ones for the world while letting them enjoy it, wholeheartedly, at the same time? Without holding back. Without fear.

    Below is a glimpse into the wild things of our recent safari at Wilderness Safari’s Seba Camp in the Okavango Delta in Botswana, with images taken by our friend at Lubella Photography. Follow us on Instagram for more pics.



  • There Are Plenty of Fish in the Sea (& Other Lessons From Nature)

    “The charm of fishing is that it is the pursuit of what is elusive but attainable. A perpetual series of occasions for hope.”

    I love these words by Scottish novelist, John Buchan. I have always felt exactly this about the sport… the art… of fishing, for as long as we have been visiting and living beside one of the greatest places in the world to experience it. To practice and perfect it. The Zambezi, a river that adds even more charm to it all, yes, but it’s the hope inherent in the act of fishing, specifically catch and release fishing, that lures you.

    I’m sure many people think that boys Carlos and Renzi’s age, eight and six respectively, should be in a classroom from sunrise to set, reading about the adventures of other people who fish, while never seeing one in the wild themselves, never understanding what drives a person to stay rod-in-hand, waiting and wishing for a bite for hours.

    I’m sure we have read books just like this… one of those sweet nights when my bush boys have climbed into my bed, climbed onto me, and listened attentively as we made our way through a Mark Twain here and a Hemingway there. But by spending hours in the classroom of life, with the teacher that is nature, adventure, I think they learn more than they ever will at a desk. At least, lessons that matter. Truly matter.


    I watch Renzi patiently casting the line into the dark river water and waiting for a tug, retrieving it and casting it back out… ever hopeful. I see the same look in him that I saw as he sat waiting for the meerkats of the Kalahari to scuttle up to him. I see the same look in Carlos as we amble through the bush on game drives in search of wildlife. Perhaps fishing is much like travel itself… imbued with a hope that never dies. There are plenty of fish in the sea (or river) just as there are always more wild adventures to be had, more wild animals to spot.

    Is hope not the best thing we can teach our boys and girls? Is the school of the wild not the best way to feel it for one’s self? Catch and release fishing is only one subject in nature’s classroom but its lessons are vast and vital. Beyond hope, there’s patience, there’s understanding, compromise, abundance…

    As Ben Fogle wrote in an article recently that is inspiring me as much as those who commented on our Facebook post…”Instead of pumping time and money into exams, we should focus on well-being and encouraging children to connect with the natural world… The wilderness rescued me. I have been shaped by my experiences in the great outdoors. Feeling comfortable in the wild gave me the confidence to be who I am, not who others want me to be. There is a natural simplicity to nature; it is far more tactile and tangible than the classroom. It’s a leveller; it strengthened my character and set me back on track.”



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