"As a long-time resident of Denmark, it was exhilarating and eye-opening to see from above our small town and the vast forests and farms that surround it. On a perfect afternoon, with only a scattering of clouds in a sky washed clean by morning rain, we circled the township before heading out over Wilson Inlet and the Nullaki Peninsula. A rippling grey sea foamed against the edge of the cliffs. In the late afternoon sun, we watched the sea change colour from grey to navy to teal. We flew north along the coastline, watching the waters turn emerald at Greens Pool, swirling in fractal patterns through scattered granite. My flight companions spotted a whale’s tail by Stanley Island beyond Point Hillier. I arched my neck, but it was gone again, and so I marvelled instead at the complex lacework of granite, salt-water, farmland and forest laid out below us. Circling inland, we toyed with the idea of heading towards purple Porongorups, but decided to save this treat for another day. We flew back over Karri forest, wetlands woven brown and green with soft mossy edges, tufted fields, furrowed fields, ponds and streams glinting silver. This is a land of many waters – not only the sea and the inlet. Nose down, swinging gently from side to side in the wind, a leafless tree reached up like a craggy hand pulling us back to Earth. As we taxied home, a field of sheep grazed calmly beside us. That night I dreamt I was teaching my children to fly - without wings, without a plane - and strangely, it was just like swimming."
N-J le Breton
