Here's something that I struggle with when it comes to fear: flying. This fear has only developed in my 30s. I used to be afraid of nothing (except spiders) but after years of covering news, and Cessna plane crashes with no survivors, I become pretty nervous during take-off and landing.
So, something you have to brace yourself for on safari, is riding in teeny, tiny airplanes. The first flight we took to Botswana was in this itty bitty plane (above) that is apparently an Australian version of a Cessna. There were only six seats and I stupidly sat directly behind the pilot and could see everything that was going on.
The irrational fear feed in my mind went like this: I am really not ready to die yet. I probably should have just stayed home. Wonder what it will feel like to crash. Is this pilot any good? He looks really young to be flying a plane... and so on... The embarrassing part was that tears just started running out of my eyes as we taxied for take-off. I looked out of the window and James politely patted my hand a few times. We made it but I was sick to my stomach the entire time. I did some deep breathing and kept telling myself that I was not going to vomit in front of James' parents and our guide. I didn't!
Our next three flights were in larger planes (thank goodness) and I didn't have to cry or throw up. Winning.