Height-fearing balloon rider ready to go again

By DAVID MELANSON

Staff Writer

I'll preface this entire story by getting something out quickly -- I hate heights.

Most any form of my body leaving the ground is unpleasant to me. Plane rides -- not a big fan. Rock climbing -- forget it. Bungee-jumping -- What? Are you nuts?!

So when I "volunteered" to go skyward and report of my findings, needless to say I was petrified. I have no clue why I agreed to do this. My nervousness grew exponentially, multiplying as each hour grew nearer.

Here's a look at how my balloon experience unfolded.

5 p.m. -- I arrive at Stuart Powell field, eat a tasty sausage and enjoy a cold beverage. People are slowly beginning to arrive, as vendors set up shop around the main runway.

6 p.m. -- We were supposed to take off around this time, but only 13 of the 37 balloons are here. Balloon watchers continue to pour in. I find out that the fearless leader on my trek will be Ed Lafontaine.

6:30 p.m. -- No flight meeting yet. We were supposed to be in the air by now, but some balloon officials say they are waiting for the wind to die down.

"They won't go off if it's more than 10 miles per hour," eventual winner Bob Corey says. Right now the wind gust is right at 10 miles per hour. Maybe it'll pick up. I guess that wouldn't be so bad after all -- go wind go!

7 p.m. -- I sit in seat 13A at the pilot's meeting. This is where I am supposed to meet Lafontaine, the man who I will soon entrust with my life. Everyone's gathered, and race coordinator Bill Beazly begins to address the crowd.

A older gentleman with white hair and wire-rimmed glasses approaches and sits besides me in seat 13. "I'm Ed," he says. I introduce myself as Dave. We both wait for instructions.

Lafontaine tells me he's been flying balloons for over 20 years -- as I sign the release form. That's good enough for me, I suppose, since I've been only going to the bathroom on my own for 20 years.

7:15 p.m. -- Lafontaine and his flight crew set up the balloon. Danvillians Bruce and Ree Crowley, Stephen and Jomin Davis, David May and Melissa Campbell help set up for the ride. Adam Graham of Lancaster also lends a helping hand.

I try to stay away, since I have no clue what I'm doing and am worried senseless. They try to explain the process to me, but they might as well have been talking to a wall. All I can think about is climbing into that small casket, uh, basket, with Lafontaine and some other soul.

7:30 p.m. -- The crew fills the balloon with air, preparing for liftoff. The hare, the lead balloon, is set to take off.

7:45 p.m. -- I enter the 8-by-4 foot basket. Lafontaine, Jomin and I will be the flight crew. The rest will chase. The crew continually asks me if I'm nervous. "No, I'm fine," I say, lying through my teeth. If they could only feel the buckets of sweat forming in the palms of my hands.

I really hope Lafontaine knows what he's doing.

7:50 p.m. -- Lift off. As we rise through the air, I look back to see some of the balloons that are set to fly. Bad mistake. Mental note -- don't look down again. Remember Dave you hate heights.

7:55 p.m. -- After merely five minutes we are at 711 feet, and what a gorgeous sight. Rolling hills, cows, pastures -- you can hear a pin drop. Well, not really, but that's what everyone told me before I took the ride.

"I kind of like our position now," Lafontaine says, as we can clearly see the hare in our cross hairs.

7:56 p.m. -- We drop to 400 feet. "Just there by talking I slipped down a couple hundred feet," Lafontaine says.

'Well, stop talking Ed,' I think to myself. But no matter what he says I feel comfortable. He seems like a guy I would take advice from, a man who could sit down and pine about the old days. I like that. I like this guy. I trust this guy.

8:00 p.m. -- The hare is down and in our sights. It's located just north of the stone company off of Ky. 52. We're about 850 feet above sea level, the highest level we reach.

8:10 p.m. -- We're moving towards the bright orange, neon target and holding steady at 700 feet.

8:12 p.m. -- "We're too far right," Lafontaine says. He feels we need to get lower to catch a left cross breeze, hoping that will pull us towards the target. "We're going to get down close to the power lines, but don't worry."

Don't worry! This is where I draw the line. I just met this guy an hour ago and he's telling me not to worry as we drop close to electrical lines.

But somehow I listen to Lafontaine, and even though we get within 10 feet of the lines, I'm not worried. He's always in control, always calm.

8:15 p.m. -- We pass the target and don't get a chance to get a shot at it. Lafontaine couldn't get the balloon aimed back left. We're 64 feet above the ground and preparing to land.

8:20 p.m. -- We're back on the ground. It sure felt like longer than 30 minutes, but what a rush. Slowly, it starts to sink in that I was just cruising above Danville in a balloon. Amazing.

I suppose we lost the race, but I feel like we accomplished something. Even though Lafontaine didn't cure my fear of heights, he earned my trust.