Hot Air Balloon Racing

Air
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A famous woman World War II pilot, a hot-air balloonist with a huge walrus-mustache, the Rocky Mountains, and balloons of every imaginable color and shape. My first ever balloon ride was about to begin.

Hot air balloon races started in Snowmass in 1975 and our good friend and pilot extraordinaire (she had ferried bombers to England during World War II) Betty Pfister called.

"Nick, will you sponsor a balloon in our inaugural Snowmass Balloon Race? You get to fly with the pilot if you sponsor, and do I have a pilot for you!"

This was how I was introduced to J. J. Garcia, one of the great characters of the balloon world. J. J., handlebar mustache waggling with each word, while a serious pilot, was always good for a laugh.

The first year J. J. showed up in Snowmass with an all-girl crew wearing tight T-shirts that said, "J. J. can't get it up without us." The next year J. J.'s all-girl crew had T-shirts that said, "J. J. gets it up and we chase it."

Balloon racing is really a misnomer because the purpose of a balloon race is to keep all the balloons as close together as possible to make a great spectacle. And they do make an incredible sight. Each balloon is designed by its owner and everyone tries to make their balloon stand out by picking outrageous colors. The first year or so all the balloons were the traditional shape, but later they started appearing in every shape possible. One was Snoopy, the dog, and another might be Superman, or even Van Gogh's head. The shapes were as varied as the owner's imagination!

Ballooning can be dangerous, too. The real enemy of hot air ballooning is wind. Light breezes are fine, but even a 15-mile per hour wind can put things out of control. Three people were killed in a tragic balloon accident very near our home in Woody Creek. The balloon was caught in a gust of wind that dragged it into a powerline. Fortunately, accidents are fairly rare.

What a thrill that first flight was—floating through the sky with the silence only occasionally broken when a blast of hot air was released into the balloon to gain altitude. You must remember that the pilot actually has very little control of the balloon. He can gain altitude by adding hot air and lose altitude by releasing hot air from a vent at the top of the balloon. Motion from side to side or forward and back is strictly up to the air currents, and it is remarkable how the air may be flowing one way at 500 feet and a totally different way at 750 feet. To the person on the ground, it may seem that there is no wind at all. That is the reason most balloon “racing” is done in the early morning with dew still on the ground.

Getting the balloons launched is a big operation. J. J. traveled with his balloon stuffed in a huge bag that he stored inside the basket that carried the propane tank and when flying, his passengers. These baskets are beautifully made and extremely strong so they can hold up in a crash landing.

Getting started is a big operation. The uninflated balloon is stretched out on the grass and it looks like it goes forever—remember balloons are at least six stories high. Regular air is blown in to open the airway up before the hot air flow is started. As the balloon begins to fill with hot air it starts to rise, the crew gets in, which in our case, was usually J. J. and three passengers. The ground crew leans on the basket to keep it from taking off prematurely, and when everything is ready, releases us and we are off.

Since the objective of the race is to keep the balloons as close together as possible, they invent games to do this. They might give each balloon a 3-foot stick with a nail in the end and put up a 3-foot hydrogen colored balloon held in place by a string attached to the ground. The objective is to see which balloon can maneuver close enough to pop the balloon. Or they might give everyone a sandbag and see who can maneuver close enough to drop their bag on a target on the ground.

After I had made a few flights, I found the spectacle beautiful but ballooning not very exciting.

A couple of years later, the Snowmass Balloon Race organizers introduced another race that started at the Aspen Airport. The objective was to see how far you could get down the valley with the ultimate goal being Glenwood Springs, some 45 miles away. When you're only control is up or down, and you can only go up if your fuel lasts it was a real challenge.

 I thought it was terrific. Because we were moving slowly and silently, sometimes less than 100 feet up, we were seeing things that I never saw from my airplane. The elk and deer did not know what to make of us as we drifted silently above them.

We left the airport at dawn and were having a beautiful flight, when as the ground heated up from the rising sun, the wind started picking up. J. J. started a frantic search for a field without power lines or trees. He found one and started dumping air.

"Hang on!"

Everyone was gripping the sides of the basket as we started to crash. No one wanted to be thrown out of the basket on impact. The basket hit the ground with a bang and was pulled along toward danger as J. J. dumped air. Fortunately, no one was hurt. The all-girl crew showed up to help us pack the balloon into its bag and put the bag in the gondola (basket) for transportation
home.

"We're o.k."


We opened the champagne to celebrate our survival! That was my last flight. We moved to San Antonio, and when I lost my eyesight, I knew ballooning was no longer for me. But I do have those wonderful memories.

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