Aerial photography invites a level of uncertainty.
The ground offers clues but rarely the full picture. Once the view lifts, certain patterns begin to register: peat-dark water cutting through forest, the abrupt change from canopy to cleared land, the geometry of river bends, or mountains rising in the distance. At times, the colors can be startling.
On the ground, the air was thick and hot in the way the lowland tropics often are. The humidity meant I had to be careful with the gear, since lenses can fog quickly when moving from indoors to outdoors. Leaving the drone out, rather than tucked away in a bag, helps. Much of the process is waiting for light or finding the right angle. Clouds on the horizon can flatten everything, or they can break just enough. Weather in the distance may help a shot or force me to pack up early. I spend that time making adjustments, trying to catch a view I didn’t expect when I launched. I often encounter the most interesting views at dawn and dusk.
There are boundaries too. Flying a drone does not grant permission to intrude. I keep clear of people, buildings, flight paths, and wildlife. The aim is straightforward: notice what’s there, and leave nothing changed.
That approach shaped how I worked in Brunei last month, during a brief trip that allowed me a couple of days in the field. The images here were captured in the Temburong District, a quiet, forested corner of northern Borneo, separated from the rest of the country by Malaysian territory.
Temburong’s terrain is low to mid-elevation — undulating hills rather than dramatic peaks — but the ecological complexity is not immediately apparent from the ground. Vast tracts of lowland and tall, majestic hardwood trees of the dipterocarp forest form the backbone of the landscape, with Shorea and Dipterocarpus trees shaping a multi-layered canopy that supports high biodiversity. Buttressed trunks, lianas, and epiphytes are widespread, creating vertical habitats for insects, birds, and arboreal mammals.
Rivers define Temburong’s geography and rhythm. These waterways serve as transport corridors and ecological lifelines, linking upland forests to mangroves and coastal systems farther north. Wildlife ranges from hornbills to gliding lizards. There are no orangutans or elephants here. You need to cross the border into Sabah to encounter those.
You also need to cross into Malaysia to encounter the large-scale forest conversion that characterizes much of Borneo today. What distinguishes Temburong is not just what lives there, but what has largely been kept out. Industrial logging, plantation agriculture, and major roads never took hold at scale, unlike in neighboring Sabah and Sarawak.
At the heart of the district lies Ulu Temburong National Park, which, though remote, is popular with visitors willing to spend a couple of hours traveling upstream and hiking.
For me, working in Temburong was uncomplicated and deeply enjoyable. Flying there was about watching rivers trace their paths through forest, noticing light penetrating the morning mist rising from the canopy, and observing subtle shades of green. It was simply a way to slow down, look carefully, and take pleasure in the view.
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