P1040543_resizeI look over the side of the basket and instantly get a case of vertigo.  The ground is getting farther and farther away and I have this sudden realization that the only thing that is keeping me from splatting upon it is a straw rectangle.  A rectangle that I am packed in to with nine other people like sardines in a can.  I barely have enough room to shuffle from foot to foot.  This could be a good thing since it would be harder to actually suddenly lose my balance and fall over the side.

Since I’ve signed the waiver in ten different places saying I will not sue should I come to an untimely death, I guess it really doesn’t matter all that much.  It’s hard to believe we are actually moving though, as there is no sense of movement or thrusting forward — we are floating with the wind in a completely timeless way.  I don’t even realize we are going up and down until I spy the other balloon in the distance bobbing up and down like a bobber in a creek.

Looking down to the ground makes me think of those dioramas I used to see at national park visitor centers or museums.  You know the ones — they are like relief maps with the three dimensional mountains and hills, and they have the little lollipop trees glued to them.  We pass over a ridge with lots of trees that makes me feel like I am looking straight down on a diorama, complete with the varying shades of green.

The South Park valley seems endless — mile upon mile of brown.  The mountains are to the west and north, but they don’t look quite as big from the air as on the ground.  The lakes are impressive though — their great expanse seeming even larger as we float over the top of them.

It’s silent except for the occasional hiss when the pilot lets out air or puts in air into the multi-colored balloon.  We have to time our conversation so that we speak in between hisses.  The air feels like a blast furnace on my back, hotter than hot.  But it abates quickly as we rotate and the winds come from a different direction, instead baking the passengers on the other side.

Eventually we descend towards a vacant field, the ground coming closer and closer.  Our pilot instructs us to bend our knees and brace ourselves for the jolt.  Our initial impact is somewhat jarring, but we continue to bump up and down as we skitter along the ground eventually landing near an old dirt road.

We climb out of the basket one a time, from each side of the basket, akin to climbing a miniature rock wall, putting our feet into the footholds along the basket.  As we climb out, we are instructed to line up one side of the basket or the other to hold onto the basket until we are all out.  Finally, the basket is tipped onto its side so our pilot can clamber out.

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Interior of the balloon

After escaping, I walk inside the balloon — it is vast, with parachute thread connecting the various parts.  After a tour of the inside, as a team we begin to compact this incredible vessel of nylon — sort of like packing the biggest tent you ever seen.  We scrunch towards the middle and it soon become a long skinny snake-like bundle which is eventually compressed inside a container — the office balloon holder.

We sit and have breakfast and the Balloonist’s Prayer is read:

The Winds have Welcomed you with softness.
The Sun has blessed you with its warm hands.
You have flown so high and so well
that God has joined you in your laughter
and set you gently back again
into the loving arms of Mother Earth.

Our big adventure is over and I can check that off the bucket list.

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