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Episode:
37
Adventure, Conservation, and Climate Change with Steve Backshall
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This guest was someone I was equal parts terrified and excited to speak with.
Steve Backshall is one of my literal heroes, and I still can’t believe he said yes to being on the podcast.
You may know him as the presenter of The Deadly 60, Lost Land of the Tiger, or Lost Land of the Jaguar. He’s an explorer, naturalist, scientist, presenter, writer, and so much more.
So if you are looking to navigate everything green (or not so green), you have come to the right place.
I am equal parts terrified and excited because we're talking to one of my literal heroes. I cannot believe he said yes. On a whim, I saw that he was in Australia for a dive expo, so I asked my PR lady, “Hey, could you reach out and see if this is a possibility? Even though, of course, it's not.” And they said yes.
So you're about to hear an interview with one of the coolest people in the world. His name is Steve Backshall. You may know him as the presenter of Deadly 60, Lost Land of the Tiger, or Lost Land of the Jaguar. He is one of those—how do you even describe him? He's an explorer, a naturalist, a scientist, a presenter, a writer. He’s amazing. And he has done some really insane stuff.
Brianne: Steve, you hardly need an intro, but for those who may know less about you than I do, who are you and what do you do?
Steve: No, not at all. My name's Steve Backshall. I am a biologist and a broadcaster. My academic specialism is in venoms, poisons, and herpetology, but in my job, it's mostly marine biology. I spend an awful lot of time under the sea with sharks, rays, whales, and dolphins.
I also do a lot of programs for young people, kids, and families, and I've been working in television for 25 years—which makes me feel very, very old when I say something like that.
Brianne: Yeah, I know the feeling. It's scary. How did you go from science to the David Attenborough life, if you like? How did you make that leap?
Steve: I was working as a writer and was finding it really tough just to pay the bills. So I came up with this idea: I got myself a video camera and stranded myself in the jungles of Colombia—which, at the time in the late 1990s, was the most rugged, dangerous, windswept place I could think of.
I went with a friend who was going to be my cameraman, but he got sick and had to be airlifted out. So I had to make the whole thing on my own—five, six weeks in the jungle, filming selfie-style before that was even a thing.
I came back with this incredibly rough material, edited it together, and made it into a film that I sold to National Geographic’s TV channel. They took me on as their Adventurer in Residence—which is still the coolest job title I have ever had—and I’ve been doing it ever since.
Brianne: That's amazing. And how do you even have the—excuse the question—but how do you have the balls to just go off to the jungles of Colombia?
Steve: Well, I’m very, very fortunate that both my parents were passionate about travel. They didn’t come from money, so they worked for airlines to get discounted travel. From a very young age, we went all over the world. But when we got there, we couldn't afford nice hotels, so they’d just find the equivalent of a hostel or somewhere cheap to stay.
That was imprinted in my sister and me from a very young age—that travel isn’t intimidating, new places aren’t something to be scared of, and even if you end up sleeping on a park bench, it's not the end of the world.
So when it came down to it, I just felt very confident—probably too confident, looking back. The things I did in my late teens and early 20s were just dumb. And how I survived them all is anyone’s guess.
Brianne: Okay, what’s one of your favorite stories from back then? One of the dumb things you did?
Steve: Oh, so my first major solo expedition—I tried to walk across New Guinea, across the western half, completely on my own. I had just a backpack, very little money, and no connection to the outside world. This was before sat phones were really a thing.
And I completely underestimated how hard it was going to be. I got lonely, I got sick, I got lost. I spent nearly three months wandering through the jungle alone, and I didn’t even get halfway. It was an absolute catastrophe.
But I learned from my mistakes. I learned what I didn't plan, didn't prepare for, and what I needed to put in place. The next time I did an expedition, I was a little better at it. The time after that, even better. By the time I’d done five, six, seven expeditions, I was starting to almost be an expert.
Brianne: Yeah, amazing. And New Guinea is supposed to be one of the most beautiful places in the world, isn't it?
Steve: It’s extraordinary. Even now, it still has corners where no one has ever been. Vast cave systems stretch through the limestone karst center of the island—places that no light has ever illuminated.
What’s interesting is that when I first went in the late ‘90s, I saw forests that looked like they were going to be devastated. The big hardwoods were being selectively taken out, and it seemed like it would turn into a wasteland.
Then I went back in 2017 to the exact same area, and after the big hardwoods had been taken, the land had just been left. Now there was this pristine, tangled secondary forest, packed with life. It was one of those rare occasions where you expect destruction but return to find nature had rebounded.
Brianne: Well, that's a nice optimistic story because you don’t hear many of those at the moment.
Steve: No, you don’t. But you know what? I think that in my position, as someone who is often broadcasting about conservation—especially to young people and families—as long as there are fish in our seas, as long as there are rainforest trees, we have a duty to be optimistic.
We have to find that positivity and that hope because, particularly with young people, if you can get them excited about an idea, if you can put the tools of change into their hands and make them feel like they have the opportunity to do something big, they get empowered, they get enthusiastic, and they are unstoppable.
If you go too far, if you make it too bleak, if you make it sound as if we are thundering toward a post-apocalyptic world where everything is gone and destroyed, it's too much, it's overwhelming. That young person is not going to be engaged. They’ll probably switch to a completely different topic.
So I think it’s really important that we find the hope, find the positivity, and find the ways we can do something.
Brianne: Yeah, totally agree. What's the saying? Action is the antidote to apathy?
Steve: Yes! That’s a good one. I think you should claim that for yourself.
Brianne: Okay, I’m sold. I’m pretty sure I’m stealing it from someone else. What’s your favorite thing to do—educate or explore? I guess you do both at the same time, but you know what I mean.
Steve: Yeah, do you know what? I would love to be able to claim that I started off doing this out of some kind of altruistic desire to educate a generation or something noble like that. That would be a total lie.
I got into this because I wanted to have amazing expeditions. I wanted to have the greatest adventures, see cool parts of the world, and work with all sorts of amazing animals. That was it. That was all I wanted to do.
But then when I started making programs for kids, and you start getting them coming along to your live shows, and you see these young people—who may not have had particular role models setting them off down this path—suddenly going, Yeah, that’s what I want to do. That excites me.
You realize there’s a massive opportunity there. And also, quite a heavy responsibility.
Because if you can get even one of those young people to think that nature is going to be their thing—that conservation, wildlife, science, diving, or kayaking is going to be their thing—if you can ignite that fire in just one young person, then job done. Life well lived.
And having the opportunity that I’ve had, making programs that go all over the world to 150 different countries, on so many different channels… It’s a massive, massive responsibility. And it’s one I don’t take lightly. It’s also one that I consider a huge privilege.
Brianne: You must have seen the most incredible places. I’m endlessly envious. Where’s your favorite? That’s probably an impossible question.
Steve: No, no. I mean, there are lots of different favorites I have for different reasons.
I love the Arctic and the Himalayas because they are environments that are always changing—minute by minute, second by second. One moment, they can feel like the most tranquil, calm place in the world, and the next, it’s like something is trying to rip you apart with the elements—the wind, the ice, the sheer force of nature.
I love the seamounts of the Eastern Pacific because they give a glimpse of what our oceans were probably like in the past—places that are still bursting with life. You see explosions of huge fish, shivers of sharks hundreds strong, giant tuna fish twice the size of a cow. It’s incredible.
And then there are the rainforests. As a broadcaster, they’re a great place to work because if I go to the Amazon and I want to find a jaguar, but I don’t find a jaguar, I know I’m going to be able to find a bushmaster, or the third-largest snake, or some crazy frog. There’s always something to talk about, which takes the pressure off.
Whereas, if I’m in the Arctic looking for a polar bear and I don’t find it… Well, then, you’re just a bit stuck. Like, what do I do now? I guess I could do a program on the ice…
Brianne: Yeah, not quite as fun, really. Have you ever been face-to-face with a polar bear?
Steve: Yes, a couple of times.
I tend to say that people massively overstate the danger of wild animals. But polar bears are one of the very few exceptions.
American black bears? Grizzly bears? Yeah, they’re big, powerful animals, but they rarely, if ever, show aggression toward humans. You could be stood next to a salmon river with grizzlies pulling out giant fish over and over again, and once they’re done, they’ll just stand up and walk right past you. They couldn’t care less that you’re there.
A polar bear will try to kill and eat you if it gets the chance.
And there are so few animals on the planet you can say that about.
Once, I was out in a kayak in the Arctic, in among the ice floes, and a polar bear started swimming straight at me. It came to within mere meters.
I have never felt more alone, more vulnerable, more stranded than in that moment. It was just me, in a kayak, with half a ton of apex predator that could make a right mess of me.
Brianne: Yes. I’m going up to Norway for the first time in a couple of months. Obviously, it’ll be too late in the season to see bears, but I’ve read a lot about how seriously you have to take them.
I can be a little too cavalier with animals—in a probably stupid way, maybe like you were as a teenager—but I have been told that polar bears are the one animal you never take risks with.
Steve: No, you don’t. It’s tricky, though, because if you spend any time in polar bear territory, the attitude toward them is completely different from what nature lovers like us might think.
If you’re out there, you carry a gun.
And while places like Norway will impose significant fines if you have to shoot a polar bear, everyone knows why you carry that gun. Because if you don’t, and a polar bear finds you first, that’s it.
You just hope you never have to use it.
Brianne: Is that the scariest experience you’ve had?
Steve: It’s definitely up there.
Another one was in the Okavango Delta in Botswana. I was diving, and we had a huge Nile crocodile—four and a half meters—come straight at us underwater.
It swam right between me and my camera operator. Then it hit the bottom, kicking up this big cloud of sand, and suddenly, I couldn’t see anything.
For a few seconds, I was 100% sure my camera operator had been taken and eaten.
I knew his family. His kids. His partner. And in that moment, I thought, This is it. This is the end of him.
Then, suddenly, the croc re-emerged. It had just passed between us. My camera operator had somehow managed to capture this incredible shot.
And then? We panicked, swam in different directions, and got the hell out of there.
Brianne: I thought you were going to have a hippo story, actually.
Steve: Oh, I’ve got plenty of hippo stories.
But, you know, they all kind of end the same way—with us all swimming off very, very fast.
Brianne: They’re so cute, though. They do not seem to match their reputation. It’s very bizarre.
Steve: Yeah, and I see there’s been a pygmy hippo in the news recently in Australia. I can’t remember its name…
Brianne: It means bouncy pork, which is hilarious.
Steve: Oh, really? They are incredibly cute-looking, incredibly cuddly and adorable.
But if you ever see two male African hippos going at it—fighting, tooth and nail, with these giant tusks that are as long as my arm—when you see the blood and the spit just flying everywhere, you will never use the word cute about a hippo ever again.
They are incredibly intimidating.
Brianne: Okay, that’s ruining my feelings about hippos. Moo Deng! That’s his name. Moo Deng. Yeah. Adorable.
Brianne: I think you already answered this, but what’s your favorite dive spot?
Steve: So, I’ll tell you what my favorite dive spot in Australia is—Tasmania.
Brianne: Really?
Steve: Yeah. Oh my days, it’s absolutely astounding.
Brianne: Oh, not Ningaloo?
Steve: Ningaloo is amazing. Don’t get me wrong—it’s fantastic.
But for me, I do love a bit of temperate water diving. Diving with fur seals, weedy sea dragons, down in the kelp forest, with plumose anemones and gorgeous encrusting sponges.
It is sensational and massively underrated.
Some of the most incredible places on the planet—places like Freycinet Bay—are utterly world-class.
So yes, I love the Barrier Reef, I love the Yongala and Ningaloo and all these other much better-known places. But if you gave me the choice? Tassie. Every time.
Brianne: Okay. I’ve added that to the list. Have you ever gone down to the Neptune Islands with great whites?
Steve: Off South Australia? Yeah. I haven’t actually.
I’ve done great whites in a few places around the world, and we tried off South Australia back in… oh my gosh, this is going to date me now… probably 2008.
Didn’t see anything.
Brianne: Oh no!
Steve: Yeah, I know. But I have had the extraordinary opportunity to dive outside the cage with great whites in Guadalupe, Mexico.
It’s something else.
There, you’ve got 50 meters of visibility underwater. You can see the sharks from a distance, assess their body language, see if they’re in a predatory mode or if they’re just cruising past.
And it’s one of the only places in the world where you can relatively safely dive alongside great whites without a cage.
At the moment, it’s closed to outsiders, which is a shame, because it is one of the finest wildlife encounters in the whole world.
And let me say—there is no chance on earth I would dive outside a cage in some of the other hotspots.
South Africa? South Australia? Anywhere where the water has any degree of turbidity, or where you’re close to sea lion colonies?
No. Not a chance.
But in Guadalupe, it works.
Brianne: Right. Okay. I’ll have to add that to the list… whenever they reopen. I have heard they were closed for some reason.
Steve: Yes. Yeah.
Brianne: So, how do you prepare for going to these remote places? What do you do? How do you even decide what’s next? I know you’re old hat at it now, but it seems kind of unfathomable in today’s world.
Steve: I think that now, the process is something I’ve been doing so long that I don’t think about it quite as much.
I’ve got a storeroom at my house with boxes and boxes labeled Arctic, Arctic, desert, desert, jungle, jungle, jungle. Three-season sleeping bags. Four-season sleeping bags.
So I just grab what I need, jam it into a bag, and go.
But what we think about much more now is how we film it.
Because that has changed dramatically—even over the last couple of years. The technology is just so much better.
So now, the big questions are:
Those are the challenges that keep us up at night.
Because you can’t just say, Oh, let’s take that extra camera just in case.
Because then? You have to carry the thing.
So a lot of what we do is working out:
That’s the big stuff.
Brianne: Do you have a big team on these expeditions usually?
Steve: No, no.
The only time we had big teams was about 15 years ago when we did the Lost Land expeditions with the BBC.
We did Lost Land of the Jaguar in Guyana, Lost Land of the Tiger in Bhutan, Lost Land of the Volcano in New Guinea.
Those were huge. We had as many as 40 people living in a makeshift camp in the rainforest.
That was incredible because we were surrounded by absolute world experts. We had people who could pull a net out of a river and instantly identify a new species of fish.
But these days? If I’m working with more than four people, I consider it a big team.
Because when you’re working with animals, you want as light a footprint as possible.
So typically, it’s just me, a camera operator, a soundie, and a director/researcher.
Everyone doubles up.
And it works brilliantly because we’re really close friends. Some of us have worked together for 15, 20 years.
Brianne: Yeah, because you need that trust.
Steve: Exactly.
We wind each other up something rotten.
But we also love each other dearly.
Brianne: That’s the best kind of relationship, isn’t it?
Brianne: I don’t want to belabor this point, because as you pointed out, going on about the downsides—what you're seeing out there with environmental destruction and climate change—isn’t always helpful.
But you do have a unique perspective.
What are some of the obvious changes you’ve seen over the years? Maybe places where you’ve been back twice and seen a difference?
What are some of the biggest climate-related issues you've personally witnessed?
Steve: Yeah, I think that’s the thing that really hits home now—at this stage in my career.
I’ve been doing this job for such a long time that I am starting to see change over time.
And change over time is the thing that really has an impact.
For example, my first expeditions in Southeast Asia—some of which were in Borneo—were back in the early ‘90s. I remember flying over Sarawak and Kalimantan in a light aircraft and looking down to see nothing but rainforest.
Just pristine, untouched rainforest, stretching in every direction as far as the eye could see.
Then I went back in 1997, the year of the Great Burn, when most of Southeast Asia was covered in a thick, dense smog from the fires in Borneo.
It was overwhelming.
In some places, the smoke was so intense you couldn’t see more than 100 meters ahead of you.
Then I went back again in 2005 for another major expedition.
And when I flew over Borneo in a plane that time?
All I saw was palm oil plantations.
This endless, undulating expanse of monoculture. Nothing but palm trees.
And while walking through a rainforest, you hear the extraordinary calls of gibbons echoing over the trees, the giant cicadas, the frogs—this orchestra of sound—when you step into a palm oil plantation, it is dead silent.
Not a single sound.
Because nothing can thrive there.
And that—seeing paradise despoiled—is really, really hard to live with.
You have to find the positives. But sometimes? That’s difficult.
Brianne: Yeah, I mean… that’s a horrific example.
Palm oil is such a complicated issue, but the way we’re going about it is just so wrong.
Steve: Yeah. No, I couldn’t agree more.
And if we were having this conversation five, six, seven years ago, we’d both probably be saying, “Palm oil should be banned! It should be taken out of every single product possible!”
But actually, when you really look at it, palm oil is far more efficient than other oils.
It requires considerably less space to produce than something like coconut oil.
And the trick isn’t necessarily banning palm oil altogether—it’s finding a way to make it properly sustainable.
Because I have visited so-called “responsible” palm oil plantations, and they were your absolute pet subject—greenwashing.
Just utter greenwashing.
But in theory, if we could maintain forest corridors between plantations, allow degraded plantations to properly recover, and absolutely protect the remaining rainforest, palm oil could be produced responsibly.
The problem?
I have never seen that work.
Not once.
Brianne: Yeah. It’s really complicated.
So, I started a cosmetics company that aimed to be the world’s most ethical, environmentally friendly, plastic-free cosmetics brand.
And we were adamant—we were never going to use palm oil.
But in the cosmetics industry?
That’s really difficult.
And as I got to know more about the issue, I started speaking to people from the RSPO (Roundtable on Sustainable Palm Oil). And while I don’t buy into their propaganda—sorry, RSPO folks, I’m sure you’re trying, but I don’t think you’re there yet—when you look at the alternatives, things like coconut oil are four times less efficient than palm oil.
There’s this company—I can’t remember the name—but they’re making synthetic palm oil through fermentation.
That might be the future.
I do think lab-made ingredients are going to help a lot.
Steve: Yeah.
And I think, for me, the thing I’m most proud of in my career is my connection to a charity called the World Land Trust.
What we do is we buy up areas of pristine rainforest and protect them.
Sometimes, we add them to existing national parks. Sometimes, we return them to First Nation peoples for stewardship.
One of the biggest fundraisers I ever did was to buy a chunk of rainforest in Borneo.
Now, because of palm oil, rainforest in Borneo is radically more expensive than other places in the world. It costs a lot to buy a single hectare of land there.
But we raised enough money to purchase a strategic plot of land alongside a river—one that acts as a highway for elephants, orangutans, and proboscis monkeys.
And going back there after playing a role in protecting it?
Walking through that forest, and hearing the life?
That’s one of the proudest things I’ve ever done.
Because palm oil isn’t going away. It’s never going away.
There are vast tracts of Southeast Asia—and now, increasingly, other parts of the world—dedicated to palm oil plantations.
The challenge now is breaking the back of greenwashing and actually making real responsible palm oil production happen.
The companies making billions from palm oil need to put their money where their mouth is and protect what’s left.
There’s no reason why wildlife can’t thrive alongside palm oil.
But we have to make that shift now.
Because the remaining rainforest in Borneo?
It’s dwindling fast.
And once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.
Brianne: Yeah. That story is particularly grim over there.
And what I find galling is how Malaysia and Indonesia are constantly telling the world how sustainable their palm oil is—how it’s all supporting small farmers—when in reality, it’s the same big corporations winning every time.
Steve: Exactly.
When we did our big expedition in Borneo in the early 2000s, I had what I still consider to be one of the biggest wins of my career.
We visited an area of rainforest that was completely unprotected.
As a result of our findings, that area gained the highest protection status any reserve can have in Malaysia.
That was a huge victory.
But I remember handing over our research to the then-environment minister…
And he was also the Minister of Forestry.
And the Minister of Plantations.
So he had the job of both protecting the land and exploiting it.
And, of course, one took precedence over the other.
Because when it comes down to it?
Money, money, money.
It’s something we constantly battle against.
Brianne: Yep. We’re having that problem right here in Aotearoa too.
Super fun.
Governments that just don’t get it, right?
Steve: Right.
Brianne: I was going to ask what your favorite conservation project is, but I guess that’s the World Land Trust?
Is that similar to the Rainforest Trust?
Steve: Yes, yeah, very similar.
I think one of the reasons I back World Land Trust so much is that they do this incredibly simple, tangible thing:
They show kids that for a relatively small amount of money, they can buy a real piece of rainforest and protect it forever.
Brianne: That’s a really lovely story.
I remember looking at the Rainforest Trust years ago as a potential charitable partner for my old company, and I was thinking, Surely, it can’t be that simple?
But it really is.
Buying and protecting land is such an obvious solution.
Steve: Yeah, the most difficult part is actually what you do after you buy it.
Because while in some places, land itself is relatively cheap, the upkeep—the actual protection of it—costs extraordinary amounts of money.
So that’s why we don’t take on the responsibility of maintaining the land ourselves.
Instead, we return it to local communities—often Indigenous groups—so that they can steward the land themselves.
Or we attach it to an existing national park, which is already being managed and maintained by the government.
It’s a neat model.
It takes a lot of behind-the-scenes work—ensuring we have the right local partners, the right legal protections—but when it works?
It’s incredibly effective.
Brianne: Brilliant.
So obvious.
All the best solutions are, right?
They’re simple.
A lot of people know about palm oil. A lot of people know about deforestation.
And obviously, you’ve worked a lot with charismatic megafauna—you’re in Australia, after all.
But what do you think is a pressing conservation issue that isn’t getting enough attention?
Steve: The difficult thing is that, as a scientist, I’m supposed to say that no one individual species is more important than the rest.
That ecosystems and habitats are what we should be protecting.
But after working in media for 25 years, I also know that that’s… kind of naïve.
Because people don’t connect with ecosystems the way they do with charismatic animals.
So the trick is to find a species that, when you protect it, you’re actually protecting an entire ecosystem in the process.
We’ve done this with rhinos, tigers, pandas—species that, when safeguarded, also preserve the habitat they depend on.
But the one group that nobody seems to care about?
Vultures.
Brianne: Vultures?!
Steve: Yeah.
Across India, Bangladesh, the Himalayas, the Middle East, and Africa, old-world vulture populations have collapsed—by as much as 98% in some regions.
And the number one reason?
A painkiller called diclofenac, which is used on cattle.
Brianne: That’s urofane, isn’t it?
Steve: Yes, it’s sold under different names, but diclofenac is the main culprit.
It’s a common anti-inflammatory drug that farmers give to their livestock.
But when vultures consume the carcasses of those cattle, the drug thins their eggshells and causes muscle loss, meaning they can’t fly—and they die.
And vultures are critical for healthy ecosystems.
They help turn over nutrients, they dispose of rotting carcasses that harbor disease, and they prevent the spread of pathogens.
But diclofenac is absolutely decimating their numbers.
Brianne: That’s… really disturbing.
And it’s such a common drug!
Steve: It is.
And unlike some conservation issues, this one is extremely difficult for individuals to do anything about.
It has to come from government policy and international pressure.
There are groups like the Hawk Conservancy Trust and WWF working on vulture conservation, but realistically?
You and I not taking diclofenac is not going to change how much of it is used on cattle in Pakistan.
So this is one of those fights that has to be big picture.
But at a personal level, I always encourage people to pick their battles.
Brianne: That’s fab advice.
There’s no such thing as a perfect environmentalist.
But I agree with you—sharks are my weak spot.
Probably my favorite animal.
Actually, wait—do you have a favorite animal?
Steve: Yes, I do.
It’s orcas.
They are so successful as a species.
They’re creative. They have remarkable pod structures—true matriarchies.
They grieve their dead. They teach their young.
They fall out with each other. They can be cruel. They can be mischievous.
They are so close to us in so many ways.
Orcas are just stunning.
Brianne: Oh, I really, really hope I see them in Norway!
I’m told it’s the right time of year, so… fingers crossed.
Steve: It is! You’ve got a really good chance.
Brianne: Okay, my final question for you.
And I never give people a heads-up on this one because I like to catch them off guard.
If you were Supreme Global Overlord, voted in, of course—no military coup involved—what would be the first thing you’d change to make the world a better place?
Steve: I would take everything from the people who have too much…
And put it all into a mega fund for the animals, the environment, and the people who don’t have enough.
And I’d spread it out.
Brianne: That is the perfect answer.
Steve: I mean, it sounds a little bit communist when I put it like that…
Brianne: No, no. That’s exactly what we need.
We’ve had some very strange answers to this question.
I once said I’d ban raisins.
Mostly joking.
Steve: But you’re right!
Also—sorry, Elon Musk. Your quest for… whatever the hell he’s doing now… is over.
Brianne: Nice.
You’ve been amazing. Thank you so much for joining me!
Steve: Thank you so much.
Brianne: I really don’t know how to wrap this up.
I just feel like… I haven’t done anything nearly as cool with my life.
I’m going shark diving in a couple of weeks in Fiji, but it really doesn’t seem as exciting now.
Steve: Oh, that sounds incredible!
Brianne: Anyway, I so appreciate the opportunity to talk to you, Steve.
You have inspired hundreds of thousands of people around the world to care more about our planet, and I’m ever so grateful for the work you do.
I also have two tickets to give away to your Sydney show!
So I’ll pop up a competition on social media, and if anyone’s keen—keep your eyes peeled for that.
Thank you so much for joining me, and I’ll see you all next week.
Brianne: Kia ora.
And there you go!
I hope you learned something, and that you realized being green isn’t about having a pantry full of aesthetic glass jars or living in a commune.
If that’s your jam—fabulous.
But at its core, sustainability is just about using what you need.
If you enjoyed this episode, please don’t keep it to yourself—drop me a rating and hit that subscribe button.
Kia ora, and I’ll see you next week.
