The fiery ring above Albuquerque

Anyone dawdling on Eclipse Saturday in Albuquerque probably didn’t make it to the Balloon Fiest Field. 

The masses turned out early. The fire marshal closed the field to spectators by 7 a.m. An estimated 200,000 people came through the gates. Add another 50,000 for crew and friends gifted parking passes, and you have the biggest day in the fiesta’s 51 years. 

In 2022, the fiesta celebrated its 50th anniversary. But even that milestone could not exceed the draw of an annular solar eclipse, with Albuquerque in the path of totality. 

The morning sky seemed placid. Then several balloons in the Dawn Patrol, the ones who test the air currents, moved south fast enough that they seemed to have motors. 

While it would not prevent problems for pilots – and would definitely add an element of fun – the wind and the crowd size would make it almost impossible for crew to gather their balloon and get back to the field in time for the eclipse. Mike decided not to fly, since his balloon was among the 50 picked to stand up during the eclipse. 

The winds made a quick balloon chase unlikely and no one want to miss seeing the eclipse from the field. We expected a record crowd, just not at so early an hour. The amount of spectators coursing along the balloon spots far exceeded any day I worked the fiesta. They still respected the crews and the balloon space, but people came out. 

After initially inflating, we deflated the balloon and packed it up to move to our slot for the eclipse standup. A busybody volunteer tried to set out the balloon right away and the official crew (not me) cautioned him to wait. Once told to go ahead, I barely helped at all. I would take orders from the longtime crew, not some guy who showed up to see the eclipse. He had others who would follow orders. 

Instead, I would wait on the eclipse. The anticipation exceeded the tasks we needed to do to set up the balloon.

The first cut of moon crossed into the sun’s path, an innocuous cut from the top of the solar sphere. 

Every few minutes I donned my eclipse glasses and looked up as the moon incrementally crept into the sun. We waited for updates from fiesta officials driving 4x4’s through the grounds. Every few minutes they buzzed past with updates on the proceeds. Finally, one stopped and word came – the wind was too strong to stand up the balloons. Our crew rolled up the balloon. 

From our camp came the horn blast that opens Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash. One of the volunteers set up his stereo equipment and had the right song ready as the moon slipped into its pose for the five minutes of totality, blocking 90 percent of the sunlight. 

The moon’s slow creep continued. 

In lieu of standing up the balloons, fiesta officials allowed the pilots to candlestick – set up baskets and burn a little propane. It was not as dramatic as a mid-morning balloon glow might have been, but it added to the atmosphere. 

The crowd grew quiet as the moon began to overtake the sun. The fiesta handed out eclipse glasses. They more or less had to – unlike a solar eclipse, there is no safe way to look at an annular eclipse. 

You could almost feel a hush come over several hundred thousand people at once as the moon slipped into position and the sun became just a burning ring. 

Despite 90 percent blockage of the sun, the sky above Albuquerque did not grow overly dark. The sky got strange with unnaturally blocked sunlight, but there was no false twilight that a full solar eclipse would produce. No no one could deny the speed with which the air grew cold. It took a little longer to heat up again once the moon moved off center stage. 

 Eclipses are moments we cannot afford to miss. The time might not come again soon (fortunately the time when they do arrive is completely predictable due to the orbits of the Earth, sun, and moon. 

 I never anticipated I might be on the field at the balloon fiesta for an eclipse, but I couldn’t stay away once I found these two events coincided.