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Standing in a wicker basket high above the ground
Inside, my heart floats with the balloon
Like an intricate quilt, the landscape lays below
The chase van is going 70 over the bridge, and yet
from my colored chariot rising towards the clouds
it's just a Matchbox car being pushed by a child
Conversation is lost in the roar of the burners throwing
blue streams into the heart of the balloon
making colors at the top wobble unsteadily in my visionToo soon, our ride is over as the sun dips below the horizon
We land in a field of grass waving at us in the breeze
The pilot pulls the redline, the crew tugs the crown
and seven stories of color lays quietly down on its side
Incredibly, the huge balloon is packed inside a snowmobile trailer
600 pounds of nylon, basket, burners and propane is packed away
waiting for the next flight, waiting for more dreams,
waiting for more memories to be made in the skies above
But now, a champagne toast and the story of ballooningSunset lights the western sky in flames of orange and gold
Stars watch from the east as we climb into the van and drive north
between the darkening blue sky and violet-pink clouds
It's 17 miles back to the launch field across the lake
where over an hour ago the fans inflated the balloon
like a giant marshmallow rainbow until it sprawled across the field
For 17 miles the crew tells us of their favorite flights
The one where the sunset was streaked with aquamarine or the one it rained
And then it's over-----and we go home with the memory of a lifetime
There's one thing to say about this poem-----go for a hot-air balloon
ride. It's something you'll never forget. Don't let anything
stop you. If you're afraid of heights, like me, go anyway.
Being surrounded by the basket, feeling stable, and having no wind (the
ballooon moves with it) really dampen that fear. Just ask my mom-----she'll
go 3 steps up a ladder in an emergency, but she'll hop in a balloon any
chance she gets. Think it's expensive? Most anything worthwhile
is.
There's some other minor stuff to say, too. Like the fact that
lighting one of the two burners is the equivalent of 100 house furnaces
turning on. Or that the nylon envelope weighs 300 pounds. Or
that the fans to inflate it are so big, they're gas-powered. Or that
the balloon costs as much as a new car. But the real thing behind
ballooning is the ineffability of the experience. Riding in a balloon
is just like standing on the ground except there's some added feeling.
I just can't describe it.
(There used to be a comments form here. However, having seen what I get when I make it easy to comment, that form has been indefinitely suspended. I can still be reached by email at <loonxtall@hotmail.com>. I apologize for any inconvenience.)
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Lakeside Park is maintained by C. Daelhousen <loonxtall@hotmail.com>