Into the wild with no map, no water, and no clue (Part 2)
The truck was stuck in the Kalahari. Eighteen people. No water. No plan. A boy’s hand crushed under the truck. The driver was shouting. The guests were melting down. The Kalahari was swallowing us whole. And I — furious with disbelief — walked into the desert, alone. I wasn’t afraid. I had walked alone in the Sahara, and had tracked through the Congolese jungle. But that day, we were on the wrong road. The sun had betrayed me. Only a miracle — a road grader and a leathery old man — brought us back.
That trip didn’t break me. It woke me up.