A couple of hours into my slumber I decided to text a friend who I knew to be staying nearby. He responded and we met up for lunch/afternoon tea at a restaurant. I then joined them back at the airfield for the evening launch, where they invited me on the flight. It was a wonderful flight too! They asked if I wanted to take control but I was in tourist mode and declined. There's nothing quite like the atmosphere around the mass launch of hot air balloons. The sound of burners all around, the hum of inflation fans, the long shadows from the late afternoon sun (or early morning mist!), the stunning panorama of hundreds of balloons. From the ground you would think that balloons are able to steer on their own, but the differing wind directions at height can be incredible - especially at Lorraine.
My 2005 visit was a whistle-stop tour. Back in 2003 I came with a group of people and didn't have the autonomy to do much sightseeing. This time I came for the weekend under my own steam and drove around to many of the sights that I'd missed last time such as Butte de Montsec - a white circular, pillared Canadian war memorial on top of a hill that can be seen for miles. It's quite a trek to get up there but worth it. There's a cast iron map of the local area that features the many battle sites from World War 2 and the shifts in occupation. It's full of history. I stopped in local villages and took walks among 'mirabelle' orchards (like greengages), shopped for inexpensive wine (so easy to come by in rural France), baguettes, cheese etc. Such l'aissez faire... The pace is slow, the peace immense. Here is more than just balloons. I felt enriched by the experience. And it showed when I returned home. I acquired my mother's nickname for me, "Mim the Adventurer" after this trip.
So many adventures have been had around ballooning. I did an intense flying training course in Igualada, Spain. It was one of the hardest weeks of my life and I resented ballooning and balloonists afterward (well, one in particular), but forgave it in the months following, once I'd had a chance to forgive myself for not achieving the goal I'd set out to (obtaining my license). I think my adventure to Canada softened the blow for that one. I now look back and realise how fortunate I've been to have flown in 4 different countries - England, France, Spain and Canada - and how extraordinary my life has been. I could look at what I haven't got -- a stable career, a husband, my PPL, etc -- but what are those worth in comparison to the richness of the experiences I've had? I've had the freedom and flexibility to live the adventure. Even on my trips back to the UK I've seldom missed an opportunity to crew for a commercial or private balloon flight. It's addictive. If I see a balloon in the sky I can't help but follow it to see where it lands (and, in a voyeuristic sense, see who is piloting in case I know them!!) My name is still on official documents stating that I am the company safety officer for a commercial rides business and it makes me smile.
When the days that I don't see a balloon in the sky start to accumulate, the images on the computer become more vivid and enticing. I can't help but long for those days when the skies over Kent and Sussex are filled with balloons dotted across the horizon, to hear the burst of the burner in the early morning rouse me from my sleep and the sudden rush of excitement as I realise what it was that woke me and the subsequent scramble for clothes and footwear as I head for the door to find the source of the noise. I am like a child in these moments. But who isn't?
Today I reminisce the glory days of past ballooning adventures.
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