My friend Tarun Tahiliani (the quintessential Pied Piper) and I share this fascination for “flight”. So when he suggested this trip across South Africa on a cross-country microlight safari, I immediately agreed. Two other birds joined the formation — Nadine, a French dream analyser, living in Delhi, whose last port of call was Mongolia where she visited the Shamans, and Adam Levin, a writer, activist and arts entrepreneur from Johannesburg.

But I had no idea of the experience that lay ahead. And so I found myself — nose, hands and feet frozen — 5,000ft in the air, awkwardly trying to remove a glove, tuck it in safely, carefully unzip my camera without letting it go in the gale, and shoot a photograph that took in the aerial splendour along with my fluorescent orange socks.

A microlight essentially looks like a motorbike (3-wheeled hence also called a Trike) or an open autorickshaw, with an over wing and an engine at the back with a propeller.

The wing, originally developed by NASA for the re-entry of satellites into the atmosphere, was then adapted and developed for hang gliding. Subsequent experiments, test flights and lost lives later (over 20 years), has led to the current design of these aircraft, whose flying speed is usually between 40 and 80 miles per hour.

Still, after three sleepless party nights at Durban Fashion Week, the sight of the four-lopsided neon moths, with large propellers on their backs, was a surreal image from a Dali painting.

Our minimalist baggage — we were trying to travel light — had to be stashed into two pouches one on either side of the trike.

The pilots got together the gear and we layered up. Flying suits, neck socks, balaclavas, gloves, goggles and a headset. A bit to our dismay, we learnt the weather was bad and we had to change routing from going south over the Wild Coast to northwest into the country. Gusts of wind were threatening to flip over the microlights and the pilots seemed rather alarmingly casual about fastening random cable ties, tightening steel cables and radioing around to establish a new fuel stop route.

But all togged up, I began to feel like Biggles, the First World War flying hero about to take off on a sortie. Tarun’s celebrity status ensured that this first flight of the fledglings was being recorded by Paul, a bleary-eyed fashion cameraman from the fashion week crew, who suddenly has a longer outdoor runway to shoot. And as we took off one after the other, waving down at the camera I found myself humming, “Those Magnificent Men In their Flying machines….”

One hour later I felt more like a bedraggled chick clinging on for dear life, nose running, eyes streaming, teeth chattering, and my hands and feet losing sensation. The constant chatter of the pilots among themselves on the headsets however kept me from falling into a dozy state of hypothermia. Since the weather was difficult, we were flying high at 5,000ft above sea level and in a ‘V’ formation like migrating birds (though unfortunately not to warmer climes).

The landscape of the Highveld below however was spectacular, vast and barren, resembling the surface of the Moon or Mars maybe. The Valley of a Thousand Hills suddenly appeared in full splendour and momentarily distracted me from the biting cold. Tiny Zulu huts and round crop circles started to dot the landscape; peeping through the tufts of candy-floss clouds. A river looped itself into a perfect heart-shape as we swooped around as one of the pilots inspected the terrain for a possible emergency urinary landing.

Two hours later we descended thankfully for our first refuel at the Estcourt Shell Ultra City, a large petrol station complex on the N3 highway with attached restaurant complexes. The landing field was a strip of grass between the highway and the petrol station. We were the local entertainment for all the passersby who were driving up to the petrol station in their cars as our trikes were being wheeled up to the pumps for fuel as well.

Hysteria then encompassed us for having survived this first stretch. We fell off the aircraft and tottered in to get hot coffee and food. Adam was sternly warned not to drink too much coffee as we still had three possible bladder hours to go. We also layered up with extra socks, T-shirts, pants and scarves — and started to look distinctly like stuffed toys, slugs or earthworms maybe, still oozing snot and tears.

The next stretch was distinctly warmer and shorter. The Drakensberg mountaintops are all flat as a tabletop, as if someone has taken a giant knife and sliced off the tops. Contours appeared sculptured like beautiful paintings as the sun started setting, becoming sandwiched here and there between the tabletops and the clouds, silhouetting the other microlights now and then. We took a short stop and landed at a rough field on a farm to visit a pilot’s friend, waiting with his beautiful hound. A beautiful white wild horse posed obligingly near the microlights as we clicked away.

The last flight stretch of about 30 minutes was one of the most memorable experiences of my life as the sun set. We were flying quite high and I quite understood what Icarus must have felt like when he flew very close to the Sun. Inspired we almost overshot this medieval-looking lodge with turrets, at Dundee where we were staying. We were now at the heart of the battlefields of the Anglo-Zulu and the Anglo-Boer wars. We thawed thankfully by the fireside before falling into bed.

We awoke at the crack of dawn, encompassed in a thick fog. We finally took off at noon and headed towards the Ithala Nature Reserve. En route we refuelled at the Vryheid airstrip where the controller’s wife kindly made coffee for us while sewing sequins onto satin pillow covers. Vryheid, a coal mining and cattle ranching town is Afrikaans for ‘freedom’ or ‘liberty’. Ironically a heart-wrenching image of Vryheid is that of the many abattoirs we flew over that afternoon.

As we approached the Ithala Nature Reserve the landscape changed dramatically. The game reserve is in the rugged rock formations of the mountainous thornveld of the Ngotshe Mountains. I spotted wildebeest and zebra grazing, a herd of elephants meandering through the shrubbery and giraffes sticking out like maypoles in the landscape. Inspired we set off on a safari as soon as we landed, to inspect this magnificent array of wildlife at close quarters. As it became dark, Theo, our guide showed us how to beam out torchlight to catch the reflective gleam of animal eyes.

We stayed that night at the Ntshondwe camp in chalets. Dinner was outside at a bonfire where the pilots warmed up with a stream of microlight stories — accidents with electric cables, failed engines, crash landings, leaking fuel, flight romances — which Tarun and I were immensely excited by, having always wanted to be aviators. Adam’s attempts at changing the subject were inexorably and gently blocked by the crew.

The next morning, after a short fog delay, getting airborne was heaven. Anton, my pilot, swooped through the clouds and circled and did short stalls, which made my stomach lurch as when on a rollercoaster. I had my first lesson on how to fly the microlight as I manoeuvred the control bar. Going through the breaks in the clouds, the shadow of the microlight on any cloud was always ringed by a magical rainbow.

We cut east across to the ocean and Sodwana Bay, not far south of the Mozambique border and Swaziland, where my microlight nearly landed on top of some horsemen crossing the track. I finally got a chance to inspect the massive round fields for crops, so formed because of the rotary irrigation systems. They looked very alien and I almost felt that I could be David Duchovny investigating an X-File.

The last flight stretch was the most magical thus far, taking us down along the coast all the way to Durban. It was a sunny day and we mostly flew low over the beach, sometimes skipping down as low as 5ft off the sandy beach right next to the scuttling crabs, pirouetting turtles and waving sunbathers and fishermen. Leaping dolphins and enormous whale sharks in the translucent water of the Indian Ocean completed this out-of-body experience.

We looped around an old shipwreck before forging on to Richards Bay, our last fuel stop. Lake St. Lucia, Stanger, Tongaat, Umhlanga Rocks and we were well on our way back into civilisation. After swooping through the skies, it was back to reality with a bump.

We just about made our flight from Durban to Johannesburg. Sitting in the aircraft to Johannesburg was claustrophobic, with the complete insulation from the elements that I had grown to love. I now feel like an inveterate explorer and discuss avidly with Tarun where and what our next big adventure is going to be. But it will be tough to beat being as “Free as a Bird”!