First-time balloon rider gains new perspective from the air

What is so important in your everyday life, like your house or car, looks humble from the air. What seems so prosaic and part of the background — the rows of verdant crops, the reflection of puffy clouds in still canal water — becomes impressive at altitude.

I thought this from the wicker basket of the AZ Superstar, a hot air balloon in the likeness of the Arizona state flag, as it glided across midtown Friday morning to kick off this weekend's Colorado River Crossing Balloon Festival. This was my first time flying in a balloon, so much of it was simply spent thinking “Wow, this is so cool, so cool, sooo coool” and “Wow, there are a lot of pools in Yuma” rather than waxing philosophic. But it's hard to deny that seeing what the birds see has a subtly powerful way of putting things in perspective.

Phoenix-based balloon pilot and skipper of the AZ Superstar Bill Heck has been flying for 35 years compared with my 35 minutes. He started at the tender age of 19 when he went up in a friend's balloon. He thought it was a pretty swell time, so his friend told him to go ahead and buy one for himself. It would pay for itself if he took out an ad in the phone book selling rides.

“So I had this grand epiphany that I was gonna be a balloon pilot,” Heck said.

That's what he did. For a long time, he had his own operation. Now he's a pilot for hire.

Ballooning looks deceptively simple. The globe itself, called the envelope — it envelops the hot air — is attached to a basket that looks something like a picnic basket without a lid. The principle is basic: Heat rises. Air is blown into the envelope with industrial fans (I helped with that by pulling out one end of the skirt), then heated with a roaring blast from the propane-fueled burners (I had nothing to do with that).

As the air inside the balloon becomes hotter than the air outside, it is able to achieve lift. Once airborne, it floats. The balloon sinks as the air cools, so to stay aloft, the pilot will open up the burners to refresh the hot air.

An orange helium-filled balloon, like the kind you'd see at a birthday party, danced into the brightening sky to the southwest before we started prepping our balloon. This let us know that we would more or less follow the same path. Hot air balloons go where the wind takes them.

Pilots cannot steer or adjust speed. At first glance, it looks like all a pilot does is occasionally release a puff of hot air into the balloon to keep it off the deck while making friendly conversation or cracking wise with the ground-bound. (Heck to golfers on a putting green below: “Mind if we play through?”)

Pilots can maneuver, though, and to do so requires a strong understanding of wind behavior. With this acquired knowledge, they can direct their travel by putting themselves at the right altitude to take advantage of the change in direction. Balloon pilots, like airplane pilots, are certified by the Federal Aviation Administration.

Our flight lasted about half an hour, taking us from the field at McGraw Elementary School at Arizona Avenue and 24th Street to a dirt road among the lettuce near 40th Street and Highway 95. It was a tight fit between the irrigation ditches and without brakes, all landings are at least mildly bumpy, but Heck's command of his balloon showed when he kept it from skidding into the ditch — or the romaine.

Since balloons travel with the gentle wind, you won't feel the difference between 50 and 400 feet. Cruising along at a leisurely 5 to 6 mph, you won't notice the motion.

But chances are, you will be moved.

Hillary Davis can be reached at hdavis@yumasun.com or 539-6857. Find her on Facebook at Facebook.com/YSHillaryDavis or on Twitter at @YSHillaryDavis.