Hot Air

From my mid-thirty’s to my early fifties I was really involved in Hot Air Ballooning, both as crew-chief and as a beginning pilot. I was lucky enough to travel from the one end Florida on interstate 10 clear though to the California end. I was very in demand as a crew-chief getting not only the prettiest but the smartest crew I could find. I traveled with different commercial ballooning outfits to events countrywide making the pilots look good in front of their clients and the general public. At one event in California for a major brokerage house once we had the balloon set up I organized the crowds into a manageable line helping the women get in the balloon without worrying about the fact that they were wearing skirts. Because I was working freelance I could generally get the time free and it was one of the way’s I could make good money and could perfect my competitive skills as well.

Once I helped crew for the Disney Balloon Team and their “Mickey Mouse” balloon. Most of the balloon people in San Antonio were there and it was a big deal to crew for the balloon. I and my friend George Maxfield made up one team the idea of which was to follow the balloon as it made it’s way over town and then to be the first team to be on site as the balloon landed and help with the deflation. George and I followed that balloon with me as the spotter and George driving, we followed that balloon through town and out to countryside were it was beginning it’s descent. Because I knew the area pretty well I knew that the pilot was having to make quick decisions on the best place to land a thee-story balloon. I though that this looked like the likeliest place but all the other teams decide to go on further. I screamed for George to turn in here and my heart was in my throat at the thought of being wrong but as we rounded a corner I was so happy to see the balloon beginning to lay over and we were the only team there to help them. I got a major kick out of that moment of pride as we watched the other teams drive up moments later, but we were number one and all without benefit of a radio! Bye the way, did I mention that I’m very competitive.

George and I traveled together sometime and we became great friend’s, it didn’t matter to me that he was older and had a son my age. Chasing after a balloon early in the morning brings you closer to someone and traveling together make you tight. I had about four pilots who were giving me lessons on piloting a balloon, each had a special skill that they brought to flying. George was my favorite and he was nice enough to give me more time in the balloon than anyone. One morning after we had gotten the balloon inflated I was pilot in command and it was my job to take off and land. It was a great morning and I had a great launch, we even flew close enough to pick leaves out of the tops of trees as we made our accent. We were about twenty minutes into our flight and everything was going so smoothly then I spotted an airfield and decided to try a touch and go. I checked with George and he said give it a shot. Now a touch and go is really that, you bring the balloon down, touch the airfield and go off again. To have any control over the balloon you heat the air to rise and let some air out to bring it down. Sounds simple but it take great finesse to do the job right.

So I let some air out of the balloon and countered with a short blast of heated air to begin my descent, the airfield was still a ways away and I was right on course and we were descending well. I let out some more air, bringing the balloon to within about thirty feet of the ground then I felt a cool breeze in my face and we began to drop like a rock. Just as I began to burn George yelled burn which meant to put hot air in the balloon. We kept dropping like a rock, George yelled burn again two more times and we kept dropping. As we fell to with in feet of the ground I turned to George and told him how sorry I was as he yelled burn aging. We got down to within inches of the ground before the heat reached to top of the balloon and we started to rise. Let me make two points here, an older balloon is more porous than a newer balloon. It leaks more air so it can take longer for the heat to cause the balloon to rise. Also the joy of ballooning is there is no sensation of air around you because you move with the wind, so feeling cool air is very unusual. I immediately turned over command to my friend George because I realized that this was very tricky air we were in and I was really spooked. So on we flew looking for a good place to land.

Exactly the same thing happen at least two more times as we tried to land, we’d get a cool breeze in our face’s and the balloon would drop again and we hit hard then the heat would get to the top of the balloon and we’d rise again. Once went we hit hard enough that the balloon went over far enough to touch the ground and drag us a few yards and as it rose I saw a tree dead ahead. Well we hit that tree about two third of the way up and then the heat in the envelope lifted or ripped us up through the tree limbs and George yelled to get down. I ducked to the bottom of the basket as my friend laid over me but he was looking up at the balloon to see if it was getting ripped to shreds. And then we hit the ground again as George said fuck it we’re down and pulled to top out of the balloon so we stayed on the ground. As we crawled out of the basket and surveyed the groove we plowed into the field George told me he had to pee and I told him that I already had. Then we had to walk about a mile to the road to find our chase-crew to cart the balloon out. By happenstance that ended up being the last time I was pilot in command. I went on to fly many more times, even in Colorado at Thanksgivings before ballooning lost it’s draw for me. I meet a lot of terrific people and got to know them well and I’m grateful for their companionship so early in the morning.