Although I had blanket approval from the Director of Native Affairs in Brisbane, it was still necessary to get permission from the Super-intendent at Palm Island before visiting that settlement. I wrote, explaining my linguistic project. And waited. Finally I was able to get through on the telephone. Yes, certainly I could come, whenever I wanted (they seemed surprised they hadn't replied). There'd be room for me in the male guest house but no, I really couldn't bring Alison and Eelsha.

Bush Pilots flew a plane three times each week from Townsville to Palm Island, leaving at seven in the morning. It took six passengers and there was room for a seventh – me – in the co-pilot's seat. At least the plane had two engines. The pilot hadn't been to Palm Island before, and as a bad storm had come up over to the east, he decided to fly up the coast some way and try to cut in round it. Eventually we came to a straggle of islands – the Palm group – but the pilot wasn't exactly sure which was Great Palm. There it was – it must be that one down there to starboard – comparing the shape with that on the map. No, it can't be, there's no landing strip. One of the other passengers had been there before, and he came to our aid. Now the landing strip was plain to see, across the south-east corner.