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Seeing life from a very different perspective

May 28, 2017

Have you ever been for a flight in a balloon? Jacqui and I have and it was an experience I’m very glad I had, especially as I’m a fully qualified glider pilot and have a natural love of flying. I’m inclined to get aboard anything that is capable of rising off the ground; there’s something quite magical about looking down on the world spread out below you and seeing familiar landmarks from a brand new viewpoint.

We had our flight while we were living in Bath, in the south west of England, a noted official starting point for balloons – in fact on most weekend mornings we would wake up to hear the roar of the gas flames as a balloon took off from the nearby Victoria Park and climbed away right over our flat. I guess it was as much the familiarity we had with these beautiful monsters, as my love of flying that encouraged us to have a go, coupled with the fact that I knew the owners of one of them and I was able to contact him and book a space for ourselves.

We arrived at the launch site at about four o’clock on a fine summer afternoon, to find the balloon already half inflated, so we were instructed to climb on board (not something I’d like to attempt nowadays, there’s no gate in the side of the basket, you have to climb over the top, a height of about four feet), and relax while the final preparations were made. We didn’t talk much at this stage, you’d be surprised how much noise those gas jets make, when you’re up close to them, and how intimidating it is to have that enormous bag hanging over you, looking as if it might crash down onto you at any moment – a feeling that very quickly goes away once you’re airborne.

The first thing we noticed, as newcomers to ballooning, was just how quiet everything was. You see, by its very nature a balloon drifts with the moving air and because of this there is no breeze at all on board. The only disturbance during the first ten minutes or so was caused by the gas burner above our heads, the thing that was giving our ‘vehicle’ the energy to climb away from the earth, and once we got to about five hundred feet our pilot turned that off too and all was peace, the trapped hot air above us ample to keep us at the height we’d attained. One thing I did notice was the sounds we could hear drifting up from the streets below, the noises of cars and motor-bikes, the chatter of people, most of them not even aware that we were drifting over them and the occasional barking of a dog. But all those sounds were somehow muted, as if trapped down near the ground and unable to come up to us with their full power.

A few minutes after our take-off, we drifted over our flat, and then over many of the famous buildings that Bath possesses. Then almost suddenly, we had left the city behind and were flying over meadows and woods to the south, and a different atmosphere developed. Now we were more noticeable than we had been in the city; here we were seen by cows that trotted along below us lowing up at us as they went, no doubt wondering what this monster was that was so silent, then suddenly let out a roar (as the pilot lit the flame occasionally to keep us up). Dogs in particular didn’t like us; their reactions were much more aggressive than the cows, who had simply seemed interested. The dogs chased us, barking wildly, obviously looking on us as a severe challenge to their territorial authority.

We eventually came back to earth near the town of Frome, about fifteen miles (22 kilometres) to the south-east of Bath and an hour after take-off. The landing was actually the most exciting part of the flight – as we came into the field we had selected, a sudden gust of wind caught the balloon and laid it and the basket on their side. We were dragged along the ground (see sketch), clinging on for dear life and collecting a fair amount of dirt in the basket, before out pilot was able to release the flap at the top letting the stored hot air out and allowing us to stop! Then it was off to a nearby pub for a slap-up meal!