life-changing-stories – Page 2 – Biosphere Expeditions: blogs from the frontline of wildlife conservation and the fight for a more sustainable planet

08/03/202508/03/2025

‘I’ve always had it in me – but when are you going to get the chance, sitting in the office?’

In his fifties, Neil Goodall felt the familiar urge to get away from it all and out into nature. Yet when he took the leap into expeditions, Neil discovered more than a new world – he found a new path, and a new lease of life.

Neil Goodall never expected to find himself in an acacia bush.

‘We were tracking leopards in Namibia, and had to set traps,’ Neil explains. ‘So I volunteered to crawl into the bush, and put the smelly carcass in the trap – and I thought, I’m an accountant!’

Since his first expedition in Namibia, Neil never looked back. Thailand, Malawi, Tien Shan: Neil traversed swamps, crossed deserts, and returned with a different perspective on life. ‘The contrast between this and working at my desk all day was just amazing. My colleagues couldn’t believe it. Gradually I became known as the Scat Hunter!’

Yet he wasn’t always an adventurer. Like many people, Neil found himself isolated from the natural world.

‘I always liked nature but never found the time for it,’ he says. ‘I was in my early 50s. Busy life. Two kids, family, and a very busy job – as a finance director for a public organisation.’

To get closer to wildlife, Neil followed what seemed to be the only option – safari, spending five days in the Serengeti.

‘Afterwards, I thought, I loved that, but a couple of things nagged me: you’re a tourist, you’re stuck in a vehicle, you can’t interact, and when you do see wildlife, they’re surrounded by tourist vehicles…it all felt a bit contrived.’

Signing up to be a citizen scientist with Biosphere Expeditions gave Neil the immersion in the natural world that he couldn’t reach in his everyday life – and then some.

‘It was everything that I’d hoped for: structured, but with a sense of liberation. We could go out into the wild, and as long as we did our tasks, we were free to do as we pleased. Wildebeest, giraffe, springbok – all close enough to smell them.’

Yet there was a crucial distinction. Neil wasn’t just close to the wildlife; his participation in the expedition enabled him to contribute to their conservation, shoulder to shoulder with dedicated scientists out in remote wilderness. On his first expedition, in Namibia, part of the project’s purpose was to change the narrative.

‘The farmers blamed the leopards for killing their livestock. Our work was helping to protect the cats. Collecting data, but properly in the wild – it’s such a purposeful interaction with wildlife.’

Part of what makes the expeditions so meaningful is because they’re not a holiday – they’re challenging, as Neil attests.

Neil (right) entering data with a fellow expeditioner in Malawi

‘It’s hard work,’ he agrees. ‘You’re up early, active from the off, but when you look back at the end of the day, shattered, you think – but what have I done? All day in nature, encounters with wildlife, collecting data with a team of people who were strangers a few days before. It’s hard, but it’s also one of the best things to experience because it connects with a lot of deep drivers that are rare to find in everyday life. But Biosphere Expeditions gives you confidence: you’re well briefed, well fed, and you know what you’re doing: solid foundations to go out of your comfort zone!’

And, like many expeditioners, Neil found himself not just out of his comfort zone, but far beyond it. His experiences across the world have been so out of the ordinary that they’ve changed how people see Neil as a person.

‘On my third expedition, I went to Peru – the first person in my family ever to go to South America. I found myself taking the boat from Iquitos down the Amazon, and I remember pinching myself – literally pinching myself – going, I’m on the Amazon. How!?’ Neil says, laughing. ‘People at work see me as the accountant. But it changes people’s perspective of you. They react ‘Wow, you did What!?’’

Neil (middle) with fellow expeditioners in Amazonia

Judging by his stories, this amazement is justified.

‘One night, in a remote region of Malawi,’ Neil begins, eyes lighting up in recollection, ‘We were observing a goat carcass to see if it attracted predators in the dark. We set a camera trap 10 miles from camp, but on the way back, we got stuck in the rutted road. Imagine: three of us, in the pitch black dark, somewhere in the middle of Malawi…and we had no choice but to get out of the car and push it out of the ruts. And you feel the danger,’ Neil admits. “We could radio for help, we knew we were safe, but it’s so far beyond everyday life. You come back and think: Wow!’

Ultimately, though, Neil’s experiences on expedition have given him more than just memories. They’ve given him new skills, opened new opportunities, and have made him an active protester for change. Inspired to put his new skills to use, he attend his first protest march – Restore Nature Now – in London in the summer, alongside 60,000 other nature lovers. Neil says, “I thank Biosphere Expeditions for giving me the confidence and the compulsion to protest for what I believe is a just cause, something I had not done before in my 68 years. And I will do the same again if the march is repeated.”

‘It changed my idea of what’s possible,’ Neil reflects. ‘I’ve always had it latent within me – but when are you going to get the chance, sitting in the office?’

Sixteen expeditions later, Neil the office accountant, has been transformed – and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. So who has Neil’s new sense of purpose influenced most? Neil bursts out laughing.

‘My sons – who see me as a boring old dad – they can’t believe what I’ve done!’

27/02/202527/02/2025

‘You’re right on the frontlines of conservation – and you see life differently.’

As biologists, Gary and Sandra Hogben have always been fascinated by the natural world. But when seeking a way to get stuck into some fieldwork, they began going on expeditions together. From tiptoeing past sleeping elephants to learning how to use the village water pump, it’s been an even richer journey than they’d imagined.

Sandra (left) and Gary Hogben (right) on their elephant expedition to Thailand in 2023.

Gary and Sandra never imagined they’d end up stranded on a dirt road in Malawi, miles from anywhere, bus broken down, no immediate way of moving. But that’s exactly where they found themselves. Rather than the struggle, however, they remember the laughter and camaraderie that came from taking responsibility for their own fate. ‘You’re really pushing yourself,’ Sandra says. ‘You learn your limits.’

Their story starts back in 2013, when the couple undertook their first expedition to Namibia. It proved a turning point in how they saw themselves—and their holidays. Both are biologists by training, but as Sandra notes, ‘It’s microbiology, not macro, so we wanted a broader perspective. Something that let us get back to what we used to do: proper fieldwork.’ A classic game drive wasn’t enough; they wanted hands-on involvement, real interaction with wildlife, and a sense they were contributing to something bigger.

So they signed up for a Biosphere Expeditions project in Namibia, discovering that expedition life is intense in ways they never anticipated. ‘I felt anxious about what I’d signed up for,’ Gary admits, recalling the dossier’s instructions on braving remote desert roads and uncertain conditions. But from the start, that same uncertainty became an addictive challenge. ‘I love to travel, but because of the climate crisis, I felt guilty,’ he says. ‘This wasn’t just a holiday though — it had a purpose, a way to give something back.’

Over time, they ventured further: Malawi, Arabia, Costa Rica, Thailand — each place tested them physically and emotionally. They’ve dodged tsetse flies, tiptoed past elephants at night, and faced torrential storms checking on hatcheries every fifteen minutes. Yet for all the trials & tribulations, both speak with a sense of wonder. ‘You come back feeling that you’ve overcome a challenge,’ Sandra says. ‘And very glad to have done so.’

Gary & Sandra (from right) and their 2018 Costa Rica sea turtle expedition team.

Sandra digging an incubation nest for leatherback turtle hatchlings

Gary constructing a protective basked for leatherback turtle hatchlings

Gary & Sandra on their 2018 Costa Rica experience

Meeting local communities helped them see their own routines in a new light. In Malawi, they learned to pump water from a village source, twenty liters at a time, or no shower. Back home, they realised their perspective had changed. ‘You see it a bit differently,’ Sandra reflects. ‘It shows you what’s possible.’ Gary now chairs a clean-water advisory group, inspired by the stark realities he encountered. ‘You’re right on the frontlines of conservation,’ he explains, ‘seeing the difference you’re making.’

Gary on his 2019 Malawi experience

Perhaps the biggest surprise has been the friendships they’ve forged. ‘We’ve stayed in touch with people from our first expedition,’ Sandra says. ‘Helen from Australia visited us in the UK, and Georg from Germany — like-minded folks who keep coming back for more.’

‘If someone asks whether they should do it, I always say: ‘Go for it. You won’t regret it,’’ Gary says. ‘I used to think being stuck between hippos and elephants was something you’d watch on TV. Now it’s part of our reality.’ And for both Gary and Sandra, that reality is far more compelling — and life-changing — than any other kind of holiday could ever be.

26/02/202526/02/2025

‘You could just feel that no-one wanted to leave…’

Tired of feeling passive, and yearning to get closer to nature, Martyn Roberts swapped safari holidays for expeditions – and learned as much about himself as he did about wildlife.

Martyn Roberts on the Azores whale & dolphin expedition in 2024

Martyn Roberts never forgot his first safari in South Africa – it left him wanting more. He loved the thrill of being close to wildlife — but as he put it, ‘I wanted to get hands-on. I wanted to make a difference, to do something more demanding that allowed me to express these beliefs, ideas and interests.’ Those hopes lingered until 2002, when a chance encounter led him to Biosphere Expeditions and a life-changing trip to Namibia.

At the time, Martyn had just come out of his first marriage and was ready for something new, something bold. His earlier safari was too short, too passive. So when he discovered Biosphere Expeditions and heard about an upcoming two-week project in Namibia, he took a leap of faith. ‘I wouldn’t call it the hard sell,’ Martyn says as he recalls his first conversation with Matthias, the expedition leader, ‘but he insisted that I join. It was an encounter with the unknown.’

For Martyn — who had always travelled with friends, family or a partner — heading off by himself to find the meeting point in Windhoek felt like a huge step. ‘Yes, it was the first time I’d travelled on my own,” he remembered. ‘I wasn’t overly worried, but I was apprehensive. What would it involve? It was a leap into the unknown.’

What he found in Namibia wasn’t at all what he’d expected. ‘The country itselt … just how wild and desolate it was,’ he marvels. ‘So much bigger than I expected. The cheetah was the species we worked with – I was a bit surprised how well it all ran!’ He still laughs about his first meeting with another big beast: Matthias, in a Windhoek café, when Martyn realised his expedition leader was nothing like the ‘old man with a big beard’ he’d imagined.

Gruelling hours, hard physical work and pushing comfort zones: Martyn discovered much more than animals alone. He and his team had to maintain vehicles, drive out into remote areas, check camera traps, and spend hours in hides. ‘Everyone was silent when Matthias asked who wanted to drive,’ Martyn says. ‘I stuck my hand up and said, ‘I’ll give it a go,’ driving people I’d never met, hours out of town, in a foreign country, at times when you’re tired can be challenging. But you do it.’

Martin driving in Namibia in 2002 — Martyn driving in Namibia in 2002

That first two-week expedition changed the course of Martyn’s life. He kept returning: Altai, Sumatra, Brazil, drawn back again and again. ‘As each expedition happened, you could sense a change,’ he explains. ‘I thought, ‘I like this. This is good. We’re giving a lot and getting a lot.’ And you could feel no one wanted to leave.’ Simply deciding to go – and accepting responsibility for getting himself to the rendezvous point, no matter how remote – was a challenge in its own right. But he relished it. ‘It’s the first test to see if you’re independent and can take responsibility.’

Of all the expedition he’s been on taken, Sumatra in 2015 stands out as a defining moment. Heat, humidity, dense jungles, the exhaustion of wading through waterlogged terrain – it tested him like nothing else. ‘We had base camps with WWF, rats in the night, someone set up a camera so we got rat TV every morning,’ he chuckles. ‘But the expedition work was seriously challenging. I approached the expedition leader talking about quitting – I was in my late 50s and finding it tough. A couple of days I didn’t go out because it was too hard, and I felt I was holding the group back. But I got back in the end!’ It’s a point of pride that he persevered. ‘Even with Wellington boots, boggy ground, up and down, thigh-deep in water … it was unpleasant. But I managed,’ he says. ‘It’s addictive. Can’t get there from here? You can, you can, because you’re part of a team.’

Martyn (foreground left) asking local people about tigers in Sumatra 2025 — Martyn (foreground left) asking local people about tigers in Sumatra 2015

Returning home after each of these experiences has been its own kind of challenge. ‘It’s a bit like the post-holiday blues,’ Martyn admits. He’d come back buzzing with stories: Muddy boots, extraordinary wildlife encounters—but maintaining his passion at home wasn’t easy. Still, that energy proved infectious for friends who saw just how transformative the expeditions had been for him.

In time, Martyn also realised that his once ‘rose-tinted view’ of wildlife charities had grown more nuanced. “Before expeditions, I supported charities like WWF. You think everything runs smoothly. But then when you do it yourself, helping professionals, you realise how difficult it is, how many challenges you face — it’s not as easy as you might think,’ he muses. The fieldwork – hauling camera traps, trekking through punishing environments, collecting data – deepened his respect for conservationists. ‘I do it two weeks a year, and it’s made me realise money isn’t everything. Commitment, courage, consistency: that’s critical,’ he says.

Martyn’s convictions haven’t dimmed; they’ve evolved. His adventures have taken him across continents, from desert scrubs to humid jungles, always in search of something more meaningful than a fleeting holiday. Each expedition tested him in a new way. Each time, he rose to the challenge. Now, he can’t imagine who he’d be without those experiences – or the confidence they’ve given him. ‘For some people, this might be a one-off. But I realised I relish it,’ he says, bright-eyed with the memory. ‘It’s rare in life. You give a lot, but you get a lot back, and that changes you.’

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