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Arguments have been made that some (many) of my opinion columns are personal therapy sessions, often dealing with family matters, high school adventures, jobs that did or didn’t go well and other recollections. I strongly dispute those sentiments. Except in this case.
Dream scenario
“What’s that you say, Dr. Freud? Describe my symptoms?”
Growing up, I had two recurring dreams. Each was terrifying in its own way, with me waking up in a panic, relieved to still be alive.
In one dream, there would be variations of flying through beautiful fluffy clouds. Often, the sequence had me in an airplane-type vehicle with other passengers or zooming solo across the sky like a bird. It was all very comforting, until it wasn’t. Eventually, I would hurtle toward the earth out of control, waking up in a panic just before crashing into terra firma.
Whether it’s connected or not, a fear of heights in certain situations has been with me since I can remember. Not a phobia by any stretch, but looking over a cliff, walking on a bridge or thoughts of a hot air balloon ride are stressful.
It’s a bit humiliating to admit “balloon” anxiety considering I have lived in the “Balloon Capital of the World” for most of my life.
Facing my fears
With that hanging over me, it was time to face my fears. As a journalist, there was an offer to hitch a ride during media day at the annual St. Patrick’s Day Balloon Rallye in Belen.
This year, after much hemming and hawing, and with a lump in my throat, I proclaimed, “Let’s do it.”
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After a surprisingly decent night’s sleep, I awoke at 5 a.m. Friday and headed to Eagle Park for the balloon launch. At the pilot’s meeting, I was assigned to the team led by Erik Cornelison, who would pilot the Superposition Oscillator. Erik’s wife, Tania, and son, Lucas, would form the chase crew. Sugey, who works for a sponsor of the Rallye, would join me as a passenger.
Armed with a lack of knowledge, and aging bones, my contribution to prepare the equipment for launch was minimal. Most pathetic was my effort to climb in the basket, with a lack of flexibility the key issue.
Eventually, I was pushed/pulled in. The good thing was that between taking photos and helping/watching with the pre-launch, there was little time to fret about the impending flight.
Once inside the wicker basket, or gondola, it was clear how small the space was with three humans and a couple canisters of propane to heat up the envelope. There would be no wandering around from side to side, which was a positive.
Up, up and away
As the balloon slowly lifted, the last of a half dozen or so to take off, there were far fewer jitters than expected. I had a job to do; take pictures and make mental notes.
We headed due south directly over Belen High School. There was a wonderful view of the football stadium, the first such look for me over any sports facility in 50 years as a journalist.
To the east, there was a panoramic view of the city of Belen, with the water tower the most prominent landmark. Following along Interstate 25, several big rigs honked to greet us. “Safe travels. Have fun.”
During the trip, Erik was extremely informative, pointing out a nearby balloon was piloted by a descendant of the Wright brothers. Erik got the balloon bug while living in Albuquerque, before moving to his current residence in Colorado.
He and Tania owned the original Alien balloon, one of the more popular airships at the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta. Now, they are happy to fly a multicolored balloon with less notoriety.
Erik shared a story about his first “splash and dash”, a maneuver in which the pilot touches a body of water with the basket before heading skyward again. While in the U.S. military, Erik spent time on a submarine, so he was plenty used to water. With that in mind, he took the basket deep into the Rio Grande, filling the entire receptacle with water. Eric managed to pull out of the river, but as returned to the sky above, vehicles below used windshield wipers to clear the water dripping from above.
During one stretch of our approximately 50-minute flight, Sugey connected via Zoom for a business meeting with her AT&T bosses. Life goes on, even hundreds of feet in the air.
As the flight continued, it was clear I was overdressed, with a winter jacket, beanie and long underwear. Sugey, wearing a polo shirt and shorts, noted it is usually coolest on the ground.
Our maximum height was about 800 feet, plenty high but not enough to make me queasy. We never did spook up a herd of deer or pack of coyotes as I had fantasized, but we attracted the attention of homeowners, dogs and horses, fascinated by our appearance near the llano. Based on the clucking at a chicken farm, we were not welcome by everyone.
Soon, a little too soon perhaps, we slowly descended, the trip coming to an end. Eric alerted us to brace for landing, while Sugey reminded me to bend the knees to avoid injury. Touchdown, safe and sound.
The landing was in a field, sandy and a bit wet. The time it took to pack up was about as long as the flight itself. I was exhausted afterward.
A toast to an amazing experience
Back at Eagle Park, there was a traditional ceremony for first-time balloonists. Eric shared a brief history of ballooning, then I was instructed to get down on my knees and drink a small glass of champagne without using my hands. Challenging but fun.
It was a wonderful way to end a satisfying day, with a fabulous group of new friends and a bunch of neat memories.
Later Saturday, there was a sense of pride in finally taking my maiden voyage. Would I do it again? Probably. First, I’ve been thinking about how cool it would be to skydive.
