IN THIS job, you get asked to do stuff that you really want to do, like steer a narrowboat (I crashed) and when the call went up last week about hot air balloons, I admit I was on edge.
Mainly because my colleague Ruairi had been ‘selected’ i.e. told he was doing it and I don’t think he was as enthusiastic as me for it, but maybe he was.
As it happened, when I offered it to him, he was on annual leave anyway so on Friday night, I got down to Oswestry for the Balloon Festival asap to take my place in a basket and into the skies above the town.
Except, due to a misunderstanding, they didn’t know I was coming.
Some quick thinking found me a pilot in Thomas Lee and his partner in life and balloons Holly Skiplorne, who were happy to take me up.
Apart from the fact they weren’t happy to go up at all on Friday night and I try to be as positive as I can be about experiences, but I can’t lie to say I wasn’t ever-so slightly disappointed.
But not for long.
Holly said ‘we can go up Sunday if you want to come’ and mentioned something about a 6am start which I heard and thought ‘not a problem’.
Cut to Sunday 6am and a tired chief reporter is in Cae Glas Park wondering why there are 200 people just watching balloons take off.
Because they love this festival, that’s why.
I’m no bystander and pampered princess in this process though – Thomas puts me to work as soon as I arrive as the envelope (i.e. the balloon) is inflated with cold air for a quicker process before the hot air is introduced.
I’m given my safety briefing and shown the parachute; by that we mean the way of controlling hot air in the envelope to take us up and down.
I’m soon in the basket and we’re away and before we knew it, it’s 500 feet up and we can see everything.
Then it’s 1,000 feet and 2,000 feet and I’m looking at Rodney’s Pillar, the Wrekin, the hills surrounding the Cheshire Plain and Oswestry’s own hillfort is tiny against the horizon.
Thomas, who’s been a qualified pilot since 2015, is fully in control while Holly talks me through what we’re doing and I’m pointing to her all our local landmarks.
They tell me why other balloons were close to the ground – looking like landing – but are actually ‘crop hopping’ and having unbridled fun.
I marvel at how small Whittington Castle is before we indulge in some crop hopping, and then rising up to 2,000 feet again.
“How high can you go?” I ask.
“10,000 feet without oxygen.”
“Don’t do that,” said my internal monologue.
Throughout the journey, Thomas is telling me why Oswestry Balloon Festival is so special. It’s because it’s so well supported and how much the crowd loves the balloons. Its why they and so many others come back each year.
It’s the family at 7am all packing into a car to drive after the balloons and the children who celebrate when you wave back.
We land – it was perfect by the way Thomas – and then I play my part in packing away.
I then spend the rest of my day telling everyone I’ve been in a hot air balloon and sending my family pictures.
Some rush.
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