Being a passenger in a hot air balloon requires a certain degree of trust. As you rise, gently, gently, into the air, no seatbelt prevents your toppling out of the basket. No windows or doors or stern flight attendants stand between you and the miniaturised world below. And yet hot air ballooning is perhaps the most calming of thrills — during the course of one hour afloat over Rajasthan you experience nothing short of suspension in time.
A company named Sky Waltz has recently managed to navigate enough legal obstacles to start offering commercial hot air balloon rides in and around Jaipur. This marks the first time such a service has been offered in India. For US$350 a pop, each passenger receives a one-hour flight with an experienced balloon pilot, plus light snacks, a ‘first flight’ certificate, and free pickup and drop off.
Early one ice-cold morning, a driver picked us up from our hotel in Jaipur. We made the hour-long drive to Samode Palace before sunrise, arriving in a dusty lot where a dozen heavily bundled men were inflating two 100-foot-tall balloons. Large fans and propane flames blew hot breath into their innards, until they billowed up like bread dough.
Just after 7am, we climbed aboard. There were six passengers in our blue-and-yellow balloon. Our pilot was an American named Steve Trieber. He was 50 years old, with squarish glasses and a propensity for rolling out one-liners. Nearly 20 years ago, he left airplanes behind to pilot balloons full-time.
“There’s still romance in ballooning,” he said early in the ride. Soon after, he floated us so close to the other balloon that the two “kissed”. “It’s also the only form of aviation where you can have a mid-air collision and have a good time,” he quipped. We floated over the manicured gardens of the palace, then up above the rocky hillside. The sun cast golden rays over the just-waking valley. To one side we saw a sea of rooftops swallowed in morning mist, to the other red mountains cut into dramatic plateaus. The bottom of our basket scraped across treetops. Birds played beneath our feet.
“Is it what you expected?” Steve asked.
“More,” one woman answered.
But entranced as we were by the breathtaking scenery, it was the village children 1,000 feet below who helped us truly grasp the thrill of our journey. They shrieked with excitement, then chased our shadow across fields planted with peas, cauliflower and tomatoes. They seemed to run for kilometres, calling out to us. Their mothers looked up and waved from the fields they were tilling. Their fathers smiled.
“They like. They love, no?” translated Kailash Hariyana, who manages the restaurant in Samode Palace and had come along for the ride.
Finally we landed, in a dry unseeded field in the little village of Nagal. A dozen breathless children surrounded us, followed by a dozen more. The young men came, then the old men, and finally the women, who smiled shyly and invited us home for lunch. Just minutes after landing, we were being welcomed by 100 people, maybe 200. Everyone was beaming — journalists, passengers, Steve the pilot, the villagers. We all grinned and stared at one another, our separate worlds temporarily connected by the strange loveliness of the moment, the collective wonderment we felt at the magic of the balloon.
The information
Contact: 011-26344533/902, www.skywaltz.com