The rare air of the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta

Every Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta trip must get treated like it will be the last. The crew I know and respect isn’t getting any younger, and licensing grows tougher as pilots pass 60. So I can’t take a chance and wait till next year. 

While I still have some strength in my limbs, I want to help where I can, even if I’m not handy enough to help as much as I would like. In early September I got the message from the balloon crew. I didn’t hesitate to accept. 

For my third time at the Duke City’s biggest annual event, I decided to work the front end of the festival. Since the festival begins the first full weekend of October and runs nine days, I can pick and choose days. 

As with Colorado, Albuquerque ran hotter than October norms. Allergies I put to rest in Colorado Springs picked up where they left off. Central New Mexico too was setting records on a daily basis – Albuquerque also sits at a mile above sea level, so the climate was similar. 

I knew the routine. Hang out the night before the fiesta, get to bed by 9 a.m. because we had to be curbside for the balloon bus at 4:45 a.m. I had no trouble shutting down, as if my body knew what had to happen the next few days. 

Overly caffeinated and light on sleep, the crew hit the field well before sunrise. Two things immediately stuck out – the warmth (many balloon mornings start cold) and the wind. We brought out the basket and burner to prepare for the sunrise flight. You almost know immediately if the balloons will fly. If the wind hits you when stepping off the bus, you hope it will calm down by sunrise. The continued hot temperatures worked against getting balloons in the air; it would take too much propane to keep them afloat once the temperatures got past the 70s. 

The international aspect of the International Balloon Fiesta was on display both during the morning drone show – the drones assembled into the Earth and red stars marked all the countries represented among the pilots. 

It was also represented in the crowd. As we handed out cards and discussed the balloon with spectators, the first day was clearly heavy on international tourists. Some people come for all nine days, some come for as little as one session on overnight charter buses from cities several hundred miles away.

Even as the flags on the field’s perimeter stood up in the wind, the pilots were clearly eager to get into the sky. But the wind on the field gave many second thoughts about flying. If balloons could not get into the sky fast enough, the wind was a problem. One balloon several rows north burnt a hole in its envelope, not how anyone wants to open the fiesta. 

We briefly stood up the balloon to offer something to the crowd gathered for the inaugural morning ascent. What we didn’t know was not long after clearing the field, the winds eased, and the balloons pushed northwest and away from the reservation. 

We intended to glow on Saturday and Sunday evenings, but the winds would not comply. The only balloons that stood up were those with corporate logos on their fabric, and the wind tossed them around. That resulted in dozens of balloons candlesticking – assembling the balloon basket, the burner, and lighting the burner in concert with the other crews. It’s not perfect, but it lights the night in a delightful way. 

In Sunday's ascent, we ran into a different issue. The balloons took off with ease but headed south. Go too far south toward downtown and landing spots grow scarce. The balloon came down a short distance from the field, in a dirt lot past a RV park, scrubby cacti and other desert plants everywhere.

A dozen or more balloons chose the same spot. Next to us landed the Smokey the Bear balloon – while Smokey is a regular fiesta participant, this balloon was new for Smokey’s 80th anniversary, and that Sunday was its inaugural flight. Our crew paled compared to Smokey’s as people piled out of the chase van. We had three in the vehicle, and one of the crew on the flight already rolled up the balloon before we could bring the chase van up. 

The balloon field remains a hive of activity through the day, with helicopter landings, aerial jumpers, and more. Our Sunday brunch was nearly a casualty of the copter landings. New Mexico State Police and Bernalillo County Sheriff gave us no problems, but Albuquerque PD came in low and set off a wind that flipped our serving tables. Luckily everything was still sealed. The crew had a second pilot this year albeit in a smaller balloon scale. 

Kevin, a regular on the balloon crew, had a remote-controlled balloon built, and was participant in the fiesta’s multiple RC displays. The Wiley B, which has a Wiley Coyote and Roadrunner theme - including a stencil of the two on the balloon fabric and toys of each in the miniature balloon basket - took several short ascents from the field. Known as Globitos, the RC balloons are a run break from those full-scale models that rise for the morning ascent. 

Even if we don’t get into the sky, the days do remain full, and it takes nothing away from the experience. You talk and relax when not on the fiesta schedule. When I remember a time when even visiting the fiesta seemed out of reach, I won’t complain about an instant of my time on the field. 

I returned Tuesday night for one last ascent on Wednesday morning. Our pilot took me and another friend of the crew up. We set up quickly and got the balloon upright to take advantage of the last moments before the sun rose behind the Sandia Mountains. 

I may never experience the sunrise from a hot air balloon again – every ride must feel like the last. I tried to soak in every ray, every bit of sudden color catching the rocks, the fiesta field, the trees and buildings across Albuquerque. Dogs barked, people waved and we exchange good mornings with a few.

The balloon headed south from the field then kicked west. We drifted over the Rio Grande. The river still flowed as a series of braided ribbons and the occasional deep pool. Fisherman looked up at us and the other balloons, some which dropped altitude to dip their baskets in the waters. Due to an incoming balloon, we had to rapidly increase altitude. 

This changed the flight significantly by pushing us out of the current taking us west and into a southerly current. But we couldn’t slow down enough for our crew to wrangle us. Mike the pilot strapped in, gave us a safety talk and prepared us to push through the tops of cottonwoods to slow our pace. 

The balloon basket weighs 800 pounds – it would have to go deep into a tree to become stuck. Hitting the top five feet of branches was jarring to us passengers, but the basket plowed through them like a mower blade to grass. I fell into the basket to avoid getting tossed, although the basket didn’t tip or even come close. 

We were slower, but definitely not slow enough. Finally a landing option emerged, a big white X in a grassy field. We had to take another plunge into the treetops. This time we ended up with several small branches in the basket but our progress stalled. 

The drop line went down, and we eased onto a small farm a few miles south of the balloon field. When I finally crawled from the basket, I felt a bit of relief.

The crew had a few days of good flying ahead, but this marked the end for me. We rolled up the envelope squeezing all the air out before bagging it, packed and loaded for one last brunch on the balloon field. 

No balloons linger over the Sandia Valley past mid-morning, and these hotter days ended flights even earlier. Even if the fiesta had four more days of morning flights, the departure felt like the proper time for me. Plus, I have 12 months to stew on which days might work for 2025.