Ballooning Sedona

Falling to Earth Wicker wafting through Sedona skies

We're descending at a rate of 1,000 feet per minute when it occurs to me that the balloon basket holding us is constructed entirely of wicker. Great. We're falling to earth in something that may have been purchased at Pier 1.

Of course, much of the appeal of a hot air balloon ride lies in that heady mix of low tech and high science. Also, there's booze. But let me back up.

We stumble out of the Red Rock Balloon Adventures van into a heavy-lidded predawn in a groggy knot, weighing the urge for coffee against the lack of creature comforts aboard a balloon. At this unholy hour, the sky sags gloomy and dim as if we're peering through pudding skin. For people about to shake off earthly bonds and take flight, we yawn. A lot.

Our pilot, Mark Stewart, and his crew prove more animated. Despite their repeated assurances that they have no idea what they're doing, they sling ropes and unfurl an acre of nylon with practiced ease. They lash the basket to the bumper of the van as a giant fan blasts air into the bulb-shaped envelope.

Suddenly, the soft beast flutters to life, an eye-popping sight. Then, they crank up the flamethrower.

This is the crux of ballooning, a single principle we learned in sixth-grade science class-warmer air rises in cooler air. Fed by a roaring geyser of flame, the envelope lurches upright, grows full and impossibly large. Ten minutes after the inflation process began we're climbing into the basket. The ground crew unhitches the ropes, and now nobody needs coffee to snap awake because we're soaring into the sky. The darned thing really works!

We snag a thermal and follow it along the Dry Creek drainage into open country. Low-contour flying, Stewart calls it, giving us a chance to scan for wildlife.

We're cruising at 100 feet. A family of mule deer and a couple of jackrabbits later, we start to climb.

The stillness startles me. I expected a turbulence-swatted ride, the basket swinging like a graveyard gate. Yet we feel oddly motionless. Stewart guides us on a wafting, dreamy ascent.

The controls Stewart uses to pilot the balloon are pretty straightforward. To lift the balloon, he opens a propane valve on the burner. A dragon's belch of flame heats the air and makes the balloon rise. To descend, he tugs the cord attached to the parachute valve to release hot air. The balloon has no rudder or steering wheel. To move horizontally, Stewart moves vertically. Wind blows in different directions at different altitudes so he negotiates a layer cake of atmosphere, rising and dropping to catch properly aimed wind flows.

It is an inexact but endearingly grace-ful mode of transport. Minutes into the trip, I vow to travel exclusively by balloon from now on. It will add a much needed dash of drama to grocery shopping.

Gaining altitude and clearing a mesa top, we ambush the sunrise as a piñata of light bursts in the canyons. “This is one of the perks of the job,” says Stewart. “I get to see this every morning.” He has been flying for 16 years. “I took a balloon ride on a whim and the next day started training to be a pilot. I was completely hooked.” We rise to 3,000 feet, searching for a whiff of wind to propel us closer to prominent landmarks like Doe Mountain and the Cockscomb, but a dead calm sky holds us. We hang suspended, like a giant ornament as Stewart slowly pirou-ettes the balloon to provide a snapshot of the wraparound vistas. A dense layer of smoke from a controlled burn obscures the town of Sedona and we're not as up close and personal with the formations as we had hoped, yet the view is soulnudging. And the best was yet to come.

Even though the crew vowed to hit the sack as soon as we were airborne, they monitor our whereabouts via radio. As we descend, they caravan toward our likely landing spot. Stewart displays a deft touch at the controls as he drops into ravines and then pops out over each crest, brushing the tops of piñon pines with the basket. It feels like a roller coaster for heart patients. No white knuckles, just a sweet thrill.

We gently one-hop in a field. The basket-wisely made out of flexible wicker-absorbs the impact. The crew deflates and packs everything that requires deflating then transports us to a sprawling breakfast feast of fresh fruit, muffins the size of a coyote's head and the traditional flutes of champagne.

Although for some reason it's considered bad form to toast a balloon crew with a hearty, “Bottoms up!”

when you go

Location: Sedona. Getting There: From Interstate 17 turn north onto State Route 179 and drive for 7.5 miles, then turn right onto Canyon Diablo Road. Travel Advisory: Red Rock Balloons offers only sunrise flights, including pickup from a local hotel and breakfast. Flights last 60 to 90 minutes. Sky High Balloon Adventures gives Sedona tours in the Verde Valley. Additional Information: Red Rock Balloons, toll-free (800) 258-3754; www.redrockballoons. com; Sky High Balloon Adventures, tollfree (800) 551-7597. Sedona Chamber of Commerce, toll-free (800) 288-7336, (928) 282-7722; www.sedonachamber.com.