Captain’s Log: Entry 002

1976 was the Bicentennial of our country.  Bill Hughes bought a new balloon, planning to fly it at different events around the country. He had a “birthday card to America” to hang beneath it. He would sell the opportunity to sign that card for $1. He said, “It should be easier to get a million people to spend $1 than to get one person to spend $1,000,000”. But years later when Bill was 70 + years old, his son said, “Why do you think Dad is still flying 100 hours a year?” I don’t think he got the $1,000,000. But I give him kudos for effort and ingenuity.

Our Piccard was a red, white, and blue patchwork design. Watson got his rating from Chuck O’Neil early in the year, I think. And he had a couple requests to bring the balloon to bicentennial events. He may have gone to one event, not sure if he got the balloon up. Another time he was scheduled to go to an event, maybe in Dansville, but the weather was crummy so he didn’t end up going.

I was building time toward my check ride. Commercial required 35 hours, but if you had airplane time, that could count toward 15 of the 35. So I was aiming for 20.

Sometimes I would launch from Groveland…the field across from where Lisa and Tim live now. Sometimes from the Airport.

The requirements included dual time and solo time, which I had, and a climb to at least 5,000 feet which was easy. The thing that intimidated me a little was the recovery from a terminal velocity descent. I knew and I later preached in Ground school that a Terminal velocity descent is not a descent at the end of which you die. Rather, you just get high enough, and leave the burner off. As it cools, of course, the balloon will descend faster and faster. Until it reaches its terminal velocity. Depending on various factors, mainly weight in the basket, this will be about 600 feet per minute … the speed at which a regular parachute descends. The balloon is acting like a parachute. To recover, you simply turn the burner back on. The descent slows, and you level out back to normal flight. It is actually a maneuver that illustrates the safety and reliability of the hot air balloon system. But having done it made me feel really good. I think how good I felt is shown by the fact that I remember where I did it. It was over West Sparta, maybe landing on Presbyterian Road.

On another training flight, on the morning of August 2, I launched from home with a southwest wind. Did probably my first touch and go on Conesus Lake. (Didn’t yet know the term “splash & dash”). Flying on I climbed the hill up toward Conesus. Over Conesus, at just a slightly higher altitude I found a wind coming back toward Groveland. Ended up landing on the Turner farm, off the Turner Road. I didn”t think about the fact that I had flown over Dorothy Turner’s new house along the way.

Until my mom heard the rest of the story from her friend, Dorothy Turner. Dorothy had recently lost her husband to a heart attack. And she had been reading a book about alien invaders. That morning as she was hanging laundry on the clothesline, she heard a strange sound…and saw the top of my balloon rising up over the clothesline.  She almost had a heart attack of her own.

On another solo training flight, I launched from the P – W Airport. Flying north, Pavilion was coming up on my left. Just before crossing Rt. 63 there was a bit of a knoll in the field. I wondered if I could do a touch and go on the top of the knoll. It worked out well. I bounced off the knoll and continued climbing over the wires and over the road. What I hadn’t noticed ahead of time was that there was a state trooper stopped on the road. I hesitatingly waved to him, and I think he was just as hesitant as he waved back. I wondered if he knew the details of the FAA altitude regs in Part 91…500 ft above a person, vehicle, vessel, or structure…except for takeoff or landing.

That was the first of many times Law Enforcement people have been there to make sure we crazy balloonists are OK.