Lake Eyre (Marilyn)

My eyes adjust to the sun glistening off the salt crystals. The shadow of the plane is beneath us.  From where I sit, it looks like a toy.

My family fits in nicely. Nicholas in the front with the pilot, Peter and I in the middle, Ryan and Jackson in the back row.

We fly low.  The pilot rattles off the names of the land marks. Bays, gulfs, inlets, cattle stations, roads, lookouts, the dingo fence. He says camels are hard to spot.  We see a herd; he circles low so that we can take photos.

Nicholas looks comfortable with his head phones on.  A large array of controls and gadgets flicker and blink in front of him.  He has prime spot.  The look on his face tells me that this experience will stay with him.

Ryan is the designated photographer. Lots of pictures of the horizon; trying to capture the shadow of the plane; working out where the camels are.

Jackson in the back is uncharacteristically quiet.  It’s his first experience in an aeroplane. His voice doesn’t return until the end of the day.

Peter sits next to me, his eyes scanning the scene before him.  We hold hands.

The day is sunny and fine, it is clear and not too hot. One of the many consequences of massive flooding in Queensland in 2010, is water in Lake Eyre in 2012. The water has receded in the last 12 months, but there is still water. We fly over salt plains, desert and water. 

On this day twelve months ago I was in a small windowless day ward at Maroondah Hospital being educated on the ins and outs of my imminent first dose of chemotherapy.. Today I am seated in a single engine Cessna full of windows and light.  And I am soaring.