Barb and Gwendie’s Excellent Hot Air Balloon Ride

Barb and Gwendie’s Excellent Hot Air Balloon Ride

The “release from liability” form required by the Asheville Hot Air Balloon company specifically asked if I was in good health and did not have any condition that could be affected by the balloon ride. Of course I said I was (in good health) and did not (have a condition), which, ahem, was a serious stretch of the truth. But hey, riding in a hot air balloon has always been on my “bucket list”—maybe not number one or number two, but on there just the same. And when a dear friend offered to treat me (as in, pay) for me to go along with her, what could I do? No was not an option.

Another dear friend, dearest Jane of Oops50, volunteered to come and take pictures. Äs it turns out, she also brought along her youngest, Josie, who turned out to be a great camera guru and shutterbug.

So, there we are at sun-up (the moon was still bright in the sky on the drive to the meeting place), a gaggle of grumpy, un-breakfasted balloon riders and followers, waiting for our pilot(s). Actually, there were two pilots as one couple was taking a romantic two-person flight and the other eight of us surmised that an engagement was about to take place aloft.

Here comes the pilot in a big van, followed by two trucks towing wicker baskets. Yes, wicker. Although on closer inspection, there was more steel, upholstery, rope, and fire-proof padding on the inside than there was wicker on the outside. But still, very picturesque.

After a thorough (and amusing) pre-flight briefing, during which the pilot did mention that there was no graceful way for a “lady” to get into or out of the basket---boy, was he right about that—we loaded into the van to drive to the lift-off field. We wound up after many twists and turns on narrow curvy mountain roads at a level grassy field, probably the size of two football fields. The crew was already getting the balloons spread out ready to inflate. I’d have been happy enough just to see this part—the giant fans, the billowing multi-hued balloons, the large propane burners. It was awe-inspiring. But the best was yet to come.

After a very cumbersome and ungainly climb up and into our basket (which held 8 passengers plus pilot)—enough said about that, the pictures tell it all, we watched the smaller balloon lift off and then, whoosh, with hardly a sound and no sense of motion at all, we were off!

Oh, what a sight. What a feeling. Calm, serene, cool, except when the pilot lit the burner to take us higher. It was like floating in the air, exactly like it, I guess. The closest experience I’d ever had before similar to this was on a small sailboat on a calm lake with just enough breeze to move us along slowly. But what a different perspective—to look DOWN on the earth like a bird, and moving sideways at a slow enough rate to see the lay of the land, the cars and trucks on the roads, the hayfields, the pastures, the houses and outbuildings. It was gorgeous. And looking out, there were the mountain tops, and fog, and clouds, and the other balloon. (We soon got word over the two-way radio that the guy had proposed in the other balloon, and she accepted. We yelled congratulations at them but probably they were to busy to hear us.) We could hear dogs barking, but little else except our own voices.

And then we noticed the shadow of our balloon on the ground, and then in the fog, and then, somehow the light and the fog combined to make a rainbow all around our shadow. Miraculous! Even the pilot was taking pictures of this.

We had one little thrill, when the pilot (deliberately) flew us through some treetops—the basket was covered in limbs and leaves, but the balloon was still higher above. Pretty exciting. It turns out they often use trees to slow the balloon/basket down on landing, so the pilot wanted us to have the experience before he HAD to do it.

Well, even bucket list experiences don’t last forever, and we did come down, in a different field several miles from where we took off, and although we did scrape the trees coming in, the bump was minimal. And then the chase crew members were holding onto ropes and the basket and we were climbing out—just about as ungracefully as we entered, speaking for myself, of course.

-Our faithful Jane and Josie were there to meet us, having taken hundreds of photos, many of them spectacular, and our little group went off to breakfast and ooohs and ahhhhs at the photos of our trip.

A once-in-a-lifetime experience for me, I’m sure. I’m old enough and infirm enough and impecunious enough that there probably won’t be another balloon ride for me. But once is wonderful. Believe me.