UP, UP AND AWAY …

Old Parliament & New Parliament (Distant)

New Parliament

Lake Burley Griffin

Inflating the Ballon

“So, you weren’t planning to do this?” It is my brother Trevor quizzing us.

“Never crossed our minds – not for a nano-second.”

“Good – this will be my gift for you.

Wednesday morning finds us on a field below Old Parliament House, in the half light of a cool Canberra dawn. A large, very large, blue nylon shell is being rolled out on the grass. The wicker basket is in place.

We’re about to go hot air ballooning – courtesy of Trev.

There are fifteen passengers, the pilot, and two ground crew. Passengers are enlisted to help, spreading the envelope to its characteristic shape on the grass.

Jim is one of two chosen to hold the mouth of the balloon open as two large fans blow air into the bag. It is loud, cool work. The balloon grows.

And grows. This is the biggest balloon in Canberra – home for two year-round ballooning companies. Fully inflated it reaches eight stories high and it holds 350,000 cubic feet of air.

The roof of the wicker basket houses a series of four propane burners. Fire is shot ten feet into the balloon in intermittent bursts. The warm air begins to lift the balloon off the grass.

Ten minutes later, we are all in place. The burners are firing. The last rope (the one attached to the ford truck) is untied and we begin to rise.

Canberra began as an artificial town, built around the shores of an artificial lake. Capital city of a nation of cynics, it has been described as ‘a good way to ruin a sheep station’ – which it was before construction began in the early 1900’s. But Canberra has grown in to a beautiful and sophisticated city.

Walter Burleigh Griffin designed Canberra with the focal point being Parliament House. From the air, it is easy to see his vision achieved. The double boomerang shaped building is topped with a flag pole over eighty meters high. The importance of this grass roofed building is accentuated by the demarcation of the three lane traffic circle that surrounds it. From here, Griffin’s wide boulevards extend like the threads of a spider web. It’s fascinating to see from the air.

Our balloon is quiet (unless the burners are flaming). There is no sensation of wind as we are moving within the breeze – not that there’s much. It’s a beautiful morning.

“I can spin the basket,” the pilot, John, tells us, “but I can’t actually steer the balloon.” The mystery of steerage is explained to us. At different elevations, there are different wind patterns. So the height of the balloon is changed to catch the current of air the pilot wants. It’s a subtle thing.

We continue to float over the wakening city. We fly over the Museum of Australia and along Lake Burleigh Griffin. We watch rowers training on its glassy waters. We point to embassies, official residences, sporting venues – even the National Mint.

It’s time for the flight to end – however breezes don’t co-operate. We hang above a lawn bowling club for about ten minutes.

“They wouldn’t appreciate it if we landed there,” John tells us as he looks down as a worker tends the grass.

It was less than a kilometre from there to the field we wanted to land in. Eventually we slowly float that way. That morning, the motorists on Cotter Road driving towards that field, turn their regular corner and see a hot air balloon. It’s almost stationary as it hovers forty feet above the pavement. We wave to them.

As we creep past the road, a rope is dropped and our ground crew pull us over the field as we descend. We gently touch, and at the pilot’s request, four passengers climb out of the basket and we are again airborne but only a foot off the ground. Grabbing the handles, they push us to exactly where the pilot wants. The second touch down is as placid as the first.

The French invented Ballooning – and it is very French that they added the tradition of Champagne. Bless them for that.

So, after the balloon is back in the bag, we gather around and sip. Our pilot dips a cork in some Champagne, and dabs it on each of our foreheads. He recites the ‘balloonist’s prayer’ as he dabs.

“It’s tradition,” he says after. “We don’t like to do it before the flight in case it scares you.”