With extra fuel, an icebox full of drinks, a sizeable quantity of rissole and pickle sandwiches the canine cavalry in the dogbox, ammo, bang sticks, tracking collars, a camera and tripod (my nickname at school) a first aid kit (containing two beers) and with more paraphernalia than needed to make a David Attenborough documentary in the Galapagos Islands, we headed off.
Behind the wheel was my good mate and trusted hunting companion, Neil sporting one big ‘Popeye’ sized arm. He needs to find a girlfriend real soon (so he can suffer like the rest of us). In the backseat, trying to get comfortable was the ‘young bloke’ Keegan, a ripped, lean, muscled machine with a genuine sixpack who’d just turned sixteen. The only time I get close to a sixpack…