Have you ever toyed with the idea of taking a flight in a balloon? Just perhaps to see what it is like to drift slowly, peacefully and mostly quietly in the air. I did and it turned out, so had a number of my friends, all like me members of a loose coterie we self described as the ‘white knuckle crowd’. Collectively and/or individually we engaged in a myriad of outdoor activities. Downhill and cross country skiing, english and western horseback riding, scuba diving, white water rafting, kayaking, canoeing, four person bobsleigh,** hiking, climbing, sailing and salt water single seat sculling. We decided it was time to add ballooning to the list.
Whilst it requires some physical effort to rig and ready a balloon for flight and after landing to de-rig it, once in the air the pilot has only to concern him or herself with adjustments to altitude there being no control of lateral movement other than by changing altitude in search of a different wind direction. The balloon is at the mercy of the wind. That said, the higher the altitude typically the higher the wind speed and the greater any associated turbulence so low altitudes are the norm. The balloon travels with and thus at the speed of the wind pure and simple.
Regardless of the intended type of balloon flight be it a local joy ride or at the other extreme say an altitude or distance record attempt, there are three gaseous candidates via which to give lift to a balloon and fly. Hot air and two of the lighter than air gases, helium and God forbid, hydrogen — think the Hindenburg dirigible explosion and inferno in 1937. Nobody in their right mind would consider highly flammable and explosive hydrogen these days. Neither initially did the German owners of the scheduled atlantic crossing service flown by the Hindenburg. The Americans however would not sell them any helium.
Helium is difficult to mine and thus expensive. It is found deep in the earth alongside of natural gas and was needed at the time of the Hindenburg for US domestic requirements. Hot air was not practical for transoceanic crossings since the passenger capacity would have been severely limited by how many heavy propane cylinders the craft could carry along with the associated burners. This not to mention the additional weight of a specially built Bluthner grand piano in the Hindenburg’s case! Unfortunately at the time it was hydrogen or nothing with of course the tragic result.
Hot air was the lifting agent of choice for the first balloon flight to carry humans. It took place on June 4, 1783 manned by the french Montgolfier brothers Joseph and Etienne. Two hundred and thirty eight years after that first flight, in the aviation world these days I discovered, hot air ballooning is considered to be an incredibly safe form of flight. Accidents are uncommon and fatalities very rare indeed. Thus emboldened, I eagerly rounded up some of my ‘white knuckle’ friends and booked a one hour flight out of Langley airport in the Fraser Valley, about a one hour drive east inland from Vancouver, BC.
Balloon flights take place either early morning or late afternoon through to early evening this to accommodate the absolute need for light winds. Balloonists in general do not take off per se unless the wind is light and expected to stay that way. Some commercial hot air balloons accommodate up to 15 – 20 and more passengers. For safety’s sake stay away from them. What few hot air ballooning accidents that do occur almost always involve this type of ‘maximize the profit’ operation. Our craft carried six passengers and the pilot. He flew Boeing 747s in real life! We were in good hands.
As a group we white knuckle aficionados sought out activities we could to some extent get hands on involved in rather more than just being dormant and passive onlookers. We were encouraged to arrive early for our flight and to help with the rigging of the balloon which indeed we eagerly did. We picked an 8:30 am first flight and arrived at 7:30 am keen to learn from scratch how the balloon was inflated and prepared for flight. Six of us would take this first flight myself included, the other six a second flight having first ‘worked’ as part of the ground crew’s balloon chase and retrieval team for ours. We six would then of course help ‘work’ the chase for the second flight.
The envelope, that is the massive bag that retains the hot air, was laid out deflated on the ground alongside of the unoccupied and at that point horizontal basket. A compressor then pumped air in. When the pilot judged there to be enough air in the envelope he directed the burner flame into the mouth of same. As the air inside heated up and expanded, the envelope slowly rose and took it’s classic somewhat teardrop flying shape and gradually rose above and thus righted the basket which had of course earlier been anchored by the ground crew using a mooring line.
Once satisfied with the preparations, the pilot stepped into the basket hand held VHF aviation radio in hand and did a radio check with the Langley tower. This to be sure the radio was fully charged and working correctly. He then invited the first group of six of us would be balloonists to climb into the basket. The other six then went to join the chase crew which entity would follow the balloon by car and truck ultimately de-rigging and retrieving the craft on landing. One by one we clambered into the high sided (about six feet) and very robust basket. I remember being impressed in the moment with how extremely difficult it would be to fall out. One would have to deliberately jump. Just as well as there were no seat belts! The chase crew went to their vehicles and our pilot radioed the tower for take off clearance, not of course from a runway but from our quiet grassy corner of the airfield.
Once cleared for take off and after a short blast from the propane burner we could sense and physically feel that the craft was ready to fly. On command the ground crew let go the mooring line which we reeled into the basket. It would be required on landing wherever that might be. More heat was applied to the air and very slowly and smoothly we lifted off. Licensed as a ‘single engine land’ private pilot myself, a vertical take off was novel to say the least. I happened to be looking straight down as we lifted off. Momentarily, my mind decided the earth was moving down and away from us, not the other way around. It was a strange if fleeting feeling. I of course adjusted to reality very quickly. We were airborne, gaining altitude and slowly moving away from the airfield carried on a very light warm summer breeze.
The terrain we were over was flat farmland with lots of minor roads. Good for the chase crew who could easily keep us in sight. Once clear of the airport our pilot applied more burner heat to gain altitude and we marveled at the tranquility ballooning offers notwithstanding the periodic noise from the burner and from the dogs. The dogs? Yes. It turns out that world wide, if a dog sees a balloon going over, especially at low altitude, it will bark at it and sometimes give chase. Being over a rural scenario there was no shortage of unleashed dogs.
After perhaps fifteen minutes of almost motionless lateral flight at about 300 – 400 feet, our affable and accommodating pilot said he would take the balloon higher than usual winds aloft typically being reliably stronger than those close to the ground. We had a lot of trust in his judgement figuring if he could handle a 747 he must be able to pilot a balloon. A Boeing747 typically cruises at around 30,000 feet and is capable of going to 45,000 feet. We presumed in this case by higher he meant perhaps a few hundred feet. He did and radioed the Langley tower to that effect. A few short blasts of the burner and we were quickly considerably higher. Looking down we expected to confirm an increase in airspeed. We didn’t. We stayed over the same landmark we had been over for some time — an automobile junk yard in the middle of an industrial estate. Not a pretty site. Considerably more heat and hence altitude was quickly added but to no avail. We were out of luck we had picked a virtually windless day.
Not wishing to put us off ballooning per se, the pilot suggested we call it quits and land. He would he said give us a partial refund which we all quickly told him would not be necessary we were having fun anyway. Releasing some of our hot air, he started a slow descent and looked for a likely and safe landing area downwind if indeed there was a ‘downwind’. There was just, however the lateral movement was barely noticeable. We inched our way lower and slightly away from the junkyard.
Landing a balloon we were to discover has a few issues not the least of which is that some people do not like balloons landing on their property sometimes to the point of open hostility. Taking out any kind of crops, flowers or other vegetation of course is a big no no and thus a further consideration. After some time and being extremely cautious not to drift any where near power lines — always a very serious danger flying at low altitude in aviation of any type. If needs be the issue is quickly resolved in a hot air balloon by ascending via an immediate application of heat from the burner. Our man figured he had a good and safe target landing zone in sight. It was the large grassy back yard of an imposing country house. No people, crops, dogs or other animals were visible which was an added attraction. At this point, I was given a job.
The landing etiquette is simple. On touching down, the balloon is kept readied for take off if immediate hostility to it’s presence is encountered. In the absence of such, my ‘job’ would be to go knock on the door of the house, tell the responder we had landed and ask permission to de-rig the balloon in-situ. If that was not acceptable I was to immediately bid a cheerful adieu and climb back into the basket. A quick blast from the burner and we would be out of there pronto. Why me for the job? I was the little guy. Losing my minimalist weight would not cause the balloon to lift off prematurely when I made my exit from it. Oh and one more thing. If permission to stay on the ground and de-rig was granted, I was to mention we had chilled champagne aboard and invite whomever to join us for a celebratory glass thereof!
We gently ghosted to a smooth touch down with the balloon safe and secure looking like, well like a fully inflated, brightly colored hot air balloon in someones yard. I jumped out and sure enough the balloon gave no indication of being on the point of take off. We were at the rear of the house and I made post-haste for the nearest door. The many large windows offered no sign of life so I knocked loudly thinking the occupants were perhaps in another part of the house. I knocked again. Nothing doing. I went around to the front and knocked. Almost immediately a woman opened the door.
I went into my ‘balloon in the back yard’ pitch and asked for permission to de-rig and have the balloon removed by our by then en-route and closing in chase crew. She initially did not respond, as in at all. After a number of go arounds trying to explain the lets face it unlikely reason for my presence, the lady finally spoke — in German! My German being limited to achtung, Gott and, from music scores, schnell (quickly) I again tried speaking English this time very, very slowly. She said ‘no English’.
I tried a different tack. The ballon was visible from the front of the house looming large from the back yard and high over the roof like a technicolor visitor from perhaps Disneyland if not from space. I could see it but she of course could not. I pointed up way above the roof and using sign language 101 beckoned her to step outside, turnaround and look up. She might well have decided I was a mad imposter, she might have quickly stepped back further inside shutting and locking the door and then calling the police to report an intruder. She stepped outside and took a look.
I have rarely seen someone so quick to fill with joyous enthusiasm. Holding off on the cart wheels, a performance of which she seemed to be on the brink of, she was utterly delighted, nay ecstatic that we had chosen to visit her by balloon. Clearly we had made her day. It occurred to me at this point that generally most people speaking a continental European language have at least a working smattering of another one if not of several. I tried my barely remembered schoolboy quasi French. **** (from school in England eons ago.) I mentioned the chilled (il fait froid) champagne awaiting her. Fortuitously this news caused her to hold off further with the cart wheels and conceivably even perhaps a few backflips that I by then had begun to also anticipate given the level of her wild enthusiasm. Somehow I was able to dredge up enough marginal French to explain the need to deflate (faire deminuer) and recover (enlever) the balloon to which she unhesitatingly agreed. Shortly thereafter she joined us having grabbed some cookies as her contribution to the celebration.
The ballon was subsequently taken back to the airfield by truck, quickly to no surprise since we had not traveled very far. We swapped places with our buddies and they flew as we chased. The wind continued to be almost absent so the second flight was more or less a repeat performance minus the German lady. They landed fairly soon in an open field with nobody in sight, not even a barking dog. We first flight neophytes and the professional chase team members packed up the balloon while our buddies drank their champagne. A good time was had by all of us. I highly recommend hot air ballooning as practiced by our operators and by any known to be safety oriented not ‘max the bottom line’ focussed, pilot and support team.
** See my story ‘The Most Exciting Minute of my Life’
**** “Je parle francais comme une vache espagnole” i.e. “I speak french like a spanish cow” – an expression taught to me by a friend from France long ago and which I use when appropriate to humorously describe the french proffered by the likes of me.