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Michael Leach uncovers the hardened and sometimes unglamorous truth behind the life of a wildlife photographer.
From the back cover:
After three weeks in the rainforest my clothes could probably stand up by themselves. I smelt like a yak's armpit. A drifting raft of unidentifiable miscellaneous debris formed a deeply unattractive blanket across the entire width of the river. A wash in this water would have been completely pointless: I would have come out even dirtier than before, having contracted at least two diseases previously unknown to science. I was bone-tired, hungry, had aches and pains in the few places that were still capable of feeling. I was covered in bites and was almost certain that something was living in my beard - and people have the nerve to tell me how lucky I am to do this for a living.