Hot air balloon passengers at the mercy of the wind

Fear of heights vanishes as the ground recedes below the basket

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By Tommi Hannula
     
      There have been scary stories in the press about hot air ballooning this summer. In Helsinki one balloon had to make a hasty and unscheduled landing on an allotment field in Kumpula, and up in Tampere one came down in Lake Nasijärvi. In Stockholm a thundery squall forced down around a dozen balloons, and some people needed hospital treatment.
      It all sounds rather perilous.
      So let's give it a whirl.
     
Kalle Kulmala has a rare and strange profession. He is a hot air balloon pilot. Kulmala assures me he has never once had to make a forced landing.
      Before we get airborne, Kulmala orders all the passengers to take part in the preparation of the balloon for take-off.
      The large wicker basket that will bear us aloft has to be manhandled off the trailer and into place, and the fabric bag or envelope - roughly the size of a small football pitch - must be spread out on the grass.
      When the envelope has been hooked up to the basket, which is leaning on its side, the balloon must first be filled with cold air. Otherwise the entire package would escape up into the ether without pilot or passengers.
      The passengers are squeezed into the basket, which is divided into sections by small partition walls. These compartments prevent the passengers from crashing into one another and causing injury, if the balloon should chance to land heavily.
     
Kulmala fires up the burner to send hot air into the envelope above, and slowly but surely the basket starts to lift off the ground.
      There is no stomach-wrenching jolt, and it is actually rather difficult to determine the point at which contact with terra firma is lost, since the balloon rises aloft so smoothly.
      To begin with there is a mild sense of wobbly legs and nervousness as any latent vertigo kicks in, but the higher we go, the more relaxed the passengers become. Any fear of heights dissolves at the point when we are so high up that it is no longer possible to measure distances accurately.
     
Flying in a hot air balloon really is surprisingly smooth. It feels more or less as if we are in a stationary look-out tower.
      The flames of the propane burner blast away just a few metres above our heads and bring a few beads of sweat to the forehead. The burner makes so much noise when it is in use that conversation is difficult.
     
After an hour's flight and after we have travelled around ten kilometres, Kulmala starts to check out possible landing zones from the fields below.
      The balloon sinks purposefully downwards, to an altitude of perhaps only 50 or so metres. The crowns of fir and pine trees rear up from the ground and seem alarmingly close to scratching the bottom of the basket.
      Slight nervousness. Is this somewhat brisk descent all part of the programme, or are we talking pilot-error here?
      A quick glance at Kulmala's face shows not the slightest sign of worry. That's alright then.
     
It is not possible to decide in advance with any accuracy where you are going to land a hot air balloon.
      Balloons enjoy a form of "everyman's rights", in that they are entitled to come down on any suitable field that comes their way.
      The arrival out of a clear blue sky of a balloon and its occupants is not always that welcome. Kulmala's onboard map is dotted with red spots to denote farms where the reception has been less than friendly. Balloonists pass on information to one another to keep the red dots up to date.
     
We are now definitely pretty close to the ground, but the balloon still seems to be going at a fair clip. It crosses my mind at this stage that perhaps a quick leap from a few metres off the deck might be a better bet than waiting for the inevitable crash.
      There is a sudden crunching noise as wicker basket meets gravel, and it stops quickly but without any real violence.
      Amazingly, Kulmala has put us down slap-bang on a dirt road dividing two wheat fields. It is a 10-point perfect landing.
      The passengers cheer their safe and successful return to mother earth, but the joy evaporates quickly. Striding towards us from the buildings around 100 metres away is the farmer himself.
      "I hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience for you", calls Kulmala from a safe distance.
      "No problem, no problem, especially when you put it down on the road like that", grins back Kari Säijälä.
     
It turns out that the farmer had himself - only a few months ago - been up in a hot air balloon. Then again, his ride had been a good deal hairier than ours.
      "We nearly hit an apartment block and some overhead power lines. When we finally came down at Malmi Airport, one light plane had to take avoiding action", recalls Säijälä.
      The half-dozen passengers in the field listen slack-jawed and are visibly relieved.
      Seems like we dodged a bullet.
     
Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print 13.8.2007

More on this subject:
 Toss the flight plan into the bin

Links:
  Pallonet - a Finnish balloonists´ site
  Finnish companies offering flights to the public

TOMMI HANNULA / Helsingin Sanomat
tommi.hannula@hs.fi