Flying high..

not THAT kind of high.
up, up and away -
but first, up at the crack of dawn or before! Then being driven out to start site and watching a 'multistoried house ' sized balloon being inflated...80 meters plus of skin filled with air, attached to a tiny basket holding 4 tanks, and 7 people, who had to climb into it not unlike mounting a horse..:-).
Those of us with long limbs had it a lot easier - leg over the rail and there they were. The rest of us wished fervently for a mounting stool! but managed to board, finally, and before you could say here we go.. we were afloat, wafting gently over the ground, rising and sinking, brushing a bush or two and seeing a blinding sun rise behind Cathedral rock. And on and on , up and down,  we swayed in silent splendor except when the flames burned to make us rise.
No flight path, just where the soft breezes carried us, for about 1 hour and half, in company with 3 other balloons. and then there was "Charlie", in his featherlite swooping among the balloons and wiggling his wings, while jackrabbits scurried below and hawks perched looking for prey.
Finally landing God knows where, basket scraping and tilting, people being shoved against each other.At this minute, it would have been sooo easy to exit (roll out of) the basket while it was tilted, but the 'mounting' procedure had to be done in reverse.
At long last, the chase cars found us, the skin was rolled and stuffed into its bag..all 400 plus pounds of it;
And, as tradition demands, champagne corks popped, fruit and sweet rolls served, and a toast drunk to us, the intrepid ballooneers.
Lovely, one could get addicted! To the ballooning, I mean, even though Champagne is not to be sneezed at, LOL.