As tempting as it is to write about taking a balloon flight, I feel more qualified to write about how NOT to go about it. I made just about every mistake possible.
First off, I went up in on a warm summer evening. This is not good ballooning weather. First, it's much harder to maintain the temperature differential between the air inside the balloon and the air outside, and you will exhaust your fuel supplies quickly. As well you'll feel hot with all that fire burning above your head. Secondly, the air was perfectly still. We spent an hour or so and only covered a couple of miles. Finally, the hazy air limits visibility. Hint: choose a cool, clear morning with a gentle breeze. Otherwise, your journey will consist of two parts; straight up, followed by straight down.
We also had a 'loaded' balloon, filled by The Commander, PW, the pilot, and another 'guest' who was introduced to us as a pilot-in-training. It turned out that the so-called pilot-in-training was, in actuality, the girlfriend of the balloon owner's son, and she was just along for a free ride. The extra weight must have had some impact on our flight or otherwise the pilot would not have felt the deception necessary. Hint: review the passenger manifest before agreeing to your flight.
We arrived at the launching area and the balloon inflation began. A gasoline powered fan fills it with air which is later heated. Once vertical, we climb in, and with the application of additional heat, we rise. Hint: wear a hat to protect your head. There's plenty of things to bump, and the heat can get uncomfortable.
The sensation of becoming airborne in a balloon is difficult to describe. We felt nothing. It's almost as if we remained stationary and the ground beneath us receded. Once the burners finished their work, everything became silent. Not the silence we experience on the ground, but a total, perfect, other-worldly, absolute silence. We could hear each other breathe. We could hear our collars rubbing against our necks when we turned our heads. (I thought I could hear fuel leaking, but it was the pilot light - phew!)
As we moved to see in new directions, the basket would creak. Since the pilot paid no attention to these noises, I assumed they didn't mean trouble. We were floating near the city where The Commander spent his childhood, and he began pointing out familiar sights. I found this diversion comforting. I began taking a few photographs. It was evening and the setting sun cast everything in a red-orange glow. I achieved my usual success, one or two 'keepers' from each roll. Hint: bring a well-padded camera case.
The air was calm, and we altered our height in search of some breeze to carry us. We climbed to 3,000 feet only to discover that the only available currents were at ground level. The climb consumed considerable fuel for no benefit as the hazy air limited what we could see of the countryside. The rest of our ride would take place at altitudes kids typically fly their kites.
I was amazed at how well we could hear sound from the ground. A car stopped, the family unloaded, and everyone began pointing at our balloon. Even though we were about a few hundred feet above them, and their talking was taking place in a normal speaking volume, we could hear every word. We travelled parallel to a suburban road and attracted the attention of some kids on bicycles. They began to follow us. Again, we could hear every word they said.
We found ourselves above an empty pasture, the gate was open, and our fuel was nearing depletion. Landing here seemed like a good idea. After a brief radio chat, our chase vehicle pulled into the lane. After searching in vain for a breeze throughout our flight, and finding none, we finally found our breeze as we were about to land. As the basket touched the ground, it tipped over and we skidded across the grass. Ground that appeared perfectly smooth from the air felt like a miniature mountain range. Hint: bring along a pair of gloves.
The kids who followed us on bicycles helped the guy in the chase vehicle bring us to a stop. With so many hands helping, the balloon and basket was loaded quickly. The pilot produced a bottle of Champaign and began the toast that traditionally follows a balloon flight. He then christened the passengers. Hint: wear old clothes. You'll be dealing with soot, wicker basket snags, tumbling across the grass (or worse) and being doused. Loading and unloading help may be expected too.
Our total distance travelled was about a mile and a half. The flight lasted about an hour. Although I'm glad I experienced a balloon flight, I'm not in any hurry to repeat one. I simply do not think we received good value for the money: I spent less flying from Canada to England. I've watched balloons in the air for a number of years and expressed a desire to ride in one. The Commander booked the ride as a surprise for my birthday.
My birthday's in August. Since July's over half gone, I'd better get busy putting out hints. I'll try "Did you see that neat little digital camera from Canon?" and if that doesn't work, I'll call him into my office "Look at this wonderful photograph someone's shared on-line!" (He has a soft spot for cats.)
Anyway, I'm glad you took the time to share your glider experience. These memories last a lifetime. Someone once said that nobody ever claims they should've spent more time at the office when the end of their life approaches. Decades from now, you can fondly recall the day you played hooky and went flying.
Cheers, PW.
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