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Show . r. H ; y . : . " .'1,?v'. C-VV I t I : , MmWmMWIISSgl&& 'A ''I v i . , , - , 1 photo by Nan Chalat The hot air balloons at the Park Meadows Golf Course provided no end of inspiration for photographers. Thrills and chills for first-time fivers by Teri Gomes It was dark and cold at 6 a.m. It is a fact I had ignored when I volunteered to help crew a balloon. Nonetheless, there was an electricity in the air by 6: 15 when the tent ! at the Park Meadows Golf Course began to fill with pilots and crew. As white-breathed white-breathed conversations began be-gan to fill the air, I sleepily searched for my pilot. I had been reassigned Saturday morning due to a crew shortage and I was now to help with the Westwind, sponsored by ParkWest and piloted by John Leisek of Manti, Utah. When the briefing ended, we headed out to John's truck and rode out to our spot, number ten on the field. The location turned out to be Ideal for viewing all the balloons. We were dead center in the field of contestants contest-ants and directly next to the lead balloon, Blue Chip One. John, his father and his uncle, Chuck and Smitty, assigned us duties. Smitty decided I should be on the crown line, a rope which originates from the top of the balloon. As the balloon inflates the crew member must use his her body to try and hold the rope taut so the balloon doesn't flop over to one side or another as it inflates. Although I currently weigh several pounds more than I wish to be, I'm still only five two and not built entirely like a linebacker. I had visions of myself being drawn close to the balloon forgetting to let go (we had been warned this is one place where crew members have been hurt) and flying over the top of the balloon into the nearby, cold-looking pond. I swallowed hard, held onto the rope and said, "O.K. Smitty." It was thrilling to be in the center of all the balloons as they began to inflate. Everyone Every-one was working but everyone every-one was smiling and laughing laugh-ing a lot. And when Blue Chip One took off there was spontaneous applause from the crowd. Now the work began. At the mouth of the balloon a fan was pushing cold air into the envelope to fill it. I started to feel my rope tugging and I planted my feet more firmly. The fuller .he balloon became, the closer I was being dragged. My arms were aching already. al-ready. As the balloon reached its full height Smitty Smit-ty came over to help me pull, and he reminded me when to let go. We were the first contestant contest-ant balloon inflated. Now John began to test the air. He turned on the propane to heat the air in the balloon and we held down the wicker gondola so he wouldn't sail away yet. The rules said pilots had to wait to be given tokens before they could lift off. Twenty balloons taking off all at once would mean mid-air collisions, so the tokens were handed out one by one. As we watched other balloons float into the morning morn-ing sky, Smitty decided his head cold was too bad for him to fly. So John turned to me and said, "Do you want to fly? Chuck and I are allowed one more passenger." passen-ger." Do I want to fly, do I want to fly? I had to control myself not to jump and up and down like the little kid I felt. "Sure,"Isaidcooly. I grabbed my camera bag (I was excited, but not unconscious) and crawled over the side of the basket. No sooner had I gotten in the basket than the field marshal mar-shal walked over, handed me the token and we were off. . With a blast of hot air above me I looked down and had the strange sensation that we were not moving, but rather the earth was slowly pulling away from us. People rapidly became dots and we were suddenly high above most of the other balloons. It is hard to expiam all the thoughts and feelings one has floating gently over a familiar landscape which now looks like a Lionel toy train town. I have since been asked, "Weren't you afraid? Riding in just that little basket?" And I have to admit that until someone asks, "Weren't you afraid?" I don't even think about the danger element. I thought about birds and how man has tried for centuries to imitate their flight. And I thought about freedom, going simply where the winds take you and how that sense of spontaneity is inherent in balloonists. I thought, too, how little control you do have in terms of your direction and I was reminded of the recent trip over the Communist border by a family who knew freedom to be so dear they risked everything by waiting until the dark of night to fly over the border in a homemade home-made balloon to freedom. The winds could have just as easily taken them deeper into their own country and certain imprisonment. John began to point out terrific photo opportunities and I began to focus on how high we were. We were well above all the surrounding hills. I could see out to Highway 80 and beyond all of Old Town and over towards Peoa. Park City never looked so beautiful. Chuck had been watching the hare balloon to see where they put down their first X. It was right below us! What luck. We simply had to drop straight down and toss our frisbee at the target. (See related story for a discussion of the rules.) As the air in the balloon began to cool, the wind decided to take us for a ride in a different direction. We were traveling farther and farther away from the target. But John and Chuck were unconcerned. "We're not flying to win. If we pick up some prize money that would help defray expenses, but we're just here to have fun." That was good to know. When Chuck threw the first frisbee, we were a very long way off from the target. But we were still right behind the hare. We watched them lay down the second target and we came down within just feet of the X. John threw, the crowd cheered and we were off. At this point John decided to find an open spot and touch down. Chuck and I jumped out and two more new passengers hopped in. Back on solid ground I marveled at how beautiful the sky was filled with all the balloons, and how hundreds of people were walking around snapping pictures and just smiling. I decided to join them. |
