Balloon flight a check off the old bucket list

Jun. 19—CORDELE — Live long enough, and you will learn that most things in life are a series of ups and downs, work being no exception.

I had the opportunity Friday to literally and figuratively experience this as Pilot Dave Sullivan released a burst of burning propane, creating a few million BTUs inside the envelope of his hot air balloon. With burners roaring we "slipped the surly bonds of earth." As we rapidly rose above Lake Blackshear, the sun rose with us and I checked an item off my bucket list.

When I received my assignment to cover the fifth annual Watermelon Days Hot Air Balloon Festival at Georgia Veterans State Park, located outside Cordele on the banks of Lake Blackshear, I really did try to act like being required to meet balloonmeister Ben Drennan at sunrise was a hardship. But I'm sure the grin on my face gave a clue as to why I don't play poker.

Following a predawn pilots meeting, Drennan introduced me to Sullivan, who would be my pilot for the mornings launch. On the short drive to the launch site, Sullivan introduced me to his wife Pat and their friend, and fellow balloonist, Joy Ashley, who would serve as our chase crew. They would be responsible for helping to assemble and inflate the balloon prior to our launch. They would then track us during our flight and be responsible for recovering us after our (hopefully) successful landing at the flight's end.

Prior to the launch, a common helium balloon was released, and all eyes tracked its upward path through the sky, seeking a clue of the morning wind's speed and direction. As soon as a pattern was detected, nine other balloon crews joined us on the field to prepare for launch. Brilliantly colored envelops of nylon were spread out and attached to the wicker baskets, or gondolas, which carry pilot and passengers.

Gasoline motors powered fans that filled the envelopes with cool morning air until the gas burners could be ignited. Suddenly the roar of gas jets spread across the field as the semi-inflated envelopes were filled with the first blasts of hot air. Across the field, envelops swelled, righting the baskets as they continued to inflate.

Following Sullivan's instructions, I climbed over the basket's side, joining him in a lighter-than-air craft almost unchanged from the one used on Nov. 21, 1783, when Jean-Francis Pilatre de Rozier and Francis Laurent d'Arlandes left the surface of the earth in Paris, France. The first balloon flight in the United States would take place a decade later in Philadelphia.

However, there were a few differences between Sullivan's basket and that of his French predecessors. Sullivan's include a variety of technological accessories that those early balloonists could not have envisioned. Including the Digitool, a flight instrument that Sullivan helped develop and now markets through his business Ballooonacy Ltd. LLC, a full balloon maintenance and repair facility in north Georgia's Fayetteville.

The instrument includes an altimeter, variometer, thermometer, as well as an integral GPS showing ground track and speed and the ability to record 10,000 hours of flight data for future analysis.

Even with the added technology aboard, some things have not changed in the two centuries since the first balloon carried passengers into the sky. The only thing the pilot has direct control over is vertical motion. Fire the burners and you rise; vent the envelope and the release of hot air allows you to descend. However, horizontal direction and speed are dictated for the most part by the prevailing winds. Nevertheless, a skilled pilot can "test" the wind at different altitudes and get varying directional changes. As the other nine balloons spread out around us, those at lower altitudes drifted to the north while those at the higher altitudes followed us along an easterly path.

While discussing the intricacies of navigation Sullivan explained another variable. The Coriolis effect, which occurs as the earth rotates counterclockwise in the Northern Hemisphere, deflects wind direction to the right. The effect does not affect wind speed, but it did cause me to consider that if our balloon could remain aloft for 24 hours, the earth would rotate beneath us one full revolution. So, in essence, we could travel its circumference in 24 hours. Not too shabby.

While wondering about the validity of this concept, my mind unfortunately equated it to an older theory that if you jumped right before a broken elevator hit the first floor, you would not be hurt. Not a theorem best pondered while being held aloft by nothing other than a bag of hot air.

As the balloons literally scattered to the wind, Sullivan, a retired Army helicopter pilot, explained that this was one of the appeals of ballooning. Each flight is different, with no predetermined result, although each pilot does launch with a few goals in mind for each flight. Some "water-splashed" the lake and ponds along their routes. Some rose high into the morning sky, while other sailed along at tree-top height. Sullivan's goal was to try and land our flight at the Cordele airport. We almost made it.

As we flew above pecan orchards, watermelon fields and subdivisions, Sullivan subtly changed altitude, allowing us to sail in an almost direct path toward the airport. Beneath us, egrets sat in the crowns of cypress trees, hawks hunted their morning prey in the field below and a crop duster raced toward a field.

For the most part, the flight progressed in silence, except for my adrenaline-fueled questions and the periodic roar of the burners when additional altitude was required. Periodically, the radio would come to life as Pat and Joy tracked our flight in an effort to be on hand for our landing. Another unique aspect of the flight happened when the basket would occasionally flex and creak beneath our feet, a reminder that we were traveling more than 1,400 feet above the scrolling landscape.

After almost an hour of flight, shifting wind speeds and directions required Sullivan to seek an alternative landing site. The process proved to be slightly more involved than our launch. On the first attempt to land at a site close to a paved road, our trajectory was suddenly altered by increased wind speed, forcing us to abort the landing and climb above the rapidly approaching tree line.

Our flight came to an end when we successfully landed on the edge of a soybean field. After a brief hike of the surrounding area and radio communications with Pat and Joy, they arrived with the chase vehicle and the work of dismantling and packing the envelope, burners and basket began.

When all was said and done, I knew I'd sign that preflight waiver again in a heartbeat. Now I've just got to hope that I don't get thrown into that briar patch again.