‘I loved every perilous and beautiful moment’
To conquer her fear of flying, Sacha Dench embarked upon an epic journey, witnessing the world from a bird’s eye view
As the sun was rising, a pink light skimmed the clouds. I was flying over northern Russia. The land below was too cold for trees; just vast frozen plains as far as I could see. I was braving temperatures of -25° in a motorised paraglider to follow the migration path of swans. It was a journey that had been years in the planning, requiring courage that had taken many more years to muster.
A childhood admiration for David Attenborough led to my career in conservation. It took me around the world studying turtles, sharks and pollution. It also led to a near-death experience when a six-seater plane I was travelling in was engulfed in a thunderstorm.
It was a terrifying experience that left me with a chronic fear of flying. I knew nothing about flight, and I realised in order to conquer this fear I would need to immerse myself in it. So I started paragliding. For my first few flights I insisted on flying tandem with a trainer. But it wasn’t in my nature to let fear win. Gradually, my fear gave way to exhilaration.
A new job with the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust led to my interest in Bewick swans, a species in decline. Something about these graceful creatures took hold in my heart. I decided to join them in the skies in a motorised paraglider, to follow their migration path from Russia, over eastern Europe, over the English Channel, all the way to Gloucestershire. I would track their progress, talk to locals, and raise awareness of their plight.
In September last year I started my journey. I would be accompanied by a team, but I would be alone in the sky, with only the swans for company.
Flying is like entering an alternative reality; disorientating, mesmerising, liberating. Nothing could have prepared me for the spectacular sight of the changing landscape from the sky, the swirling colours, the winding rivers. At one point, a flock of geese flew with me in formation, tucking in as if I were the lead bird. And during a nasty patch of fog, I circled up above the clouds into the sunny peacefulness to discover flocks of swans all over my horizon. It was pure magic.
Three months into my trip, as I flew towards Calais, the White Cliffs of Dover came into view. Emotion overtook me and I burst into tears. I had loved every perilous and beautiful moment, and didn’t want the trip to end, but those famous cliffs seemed to be smiling at me, reminding me it was time to come home.
Flying is like entering a new reality… Nothing could have prepared me
for it