The tale of our time at the North Carolina hot air balloon festival (called the Carolina BalloonFest) is really a tale of expectations – those lost and those surprisingly exceeded. If expectations could soar, mine were in outer space. And lofty dreams are tough to fulfill when they ride on the delicate fabric of weather-dependent balloons.
You see, my daydream for over a decade now was to be in a hot air balloon for my 40th birthday. I am not a total nut: it didn’t have to be ON the actual day. But somewhere around my 40th birthday, I wanted to float majestically in the sky. I wanted to be in an open basket, experiencing what it felt like to be the wind. I wanted to usher in 40 by actively demonstrating to myself that age is a number and adventures don’t die simply because my 30s are done.
Melodramatic? Perhaps. But I am a mom to two whose primary role in life is motherhood. I love it, but it comes with some things to sort out. The hot air thing ended up being a sorting.
And like I said, it also was part of a long-time dream. In my heart, I am an adventurer. I hate routine. I love having “fresh content” for my life.
So clearly, with those COMPLETELY RATIONAL EXPECTATIONS, how could my weekend go awry?
You know how this goes, of course.
The North Carolina Balloon Festival happens each year in Statesville, NC. Just outside of Charlotte, you would never know that Statesville is a balloon mecca. Smaller than the famous Albuquerque balloon festival, it is second in age, size, and scale.
Statesville’s balloon culture was put on the map in 1969 with the first flight there (which happened only four years after modern ballooning was invented and approved by the FAA). Tracy Barnes set up shop in Statesville and began to develop innovative balloon advancements. Particularly impressive was the triangle basket shape. Eventually, Barnes was shipping orders out to balloonists all over the world and Statesville was a converging point.
In 1974, balloonists all over the U.S. began to meet in Statesville for a casual balloon rally. Today, it’s a celebrated and anticipated event that reaches thousands.
The day of the hot air balloon festival this year, we woke to a soft, cold, fall North Carolina rain. Undeterred, we bundled up and headed to the festival. My husband had booked a birthday ride for the afternoon flight. At the festival, there are two opportunities to fly – basically dawn or dusk. It costs a pretty penny to take a ride, but the festival is fun as everyone can watch the balloons inflate then rise in one harmonious, colorful launch. I was giddy.
(Note: we were flying without kids. Family had gathered to attend the festival, too, and would be keeping our kids’ feet on the ground for free while we lifted in the air. The kids can pay to fly in a balloon after they have worked for decades.)
But of course, my storybook ending was not to be. Even though the sun came out, winds up in the clouds were vicious. Balloons weren’t even inflated on the ground until 5:30 p.m. due to wind speed and swirl. For the majority of the day, they lay in sad, limp heaps on dead grass.
While my 40th birthday expectations were dashed, the festival wasn’t a total loss. I met remarkable women and men who introduced me to a subculture I didn’t know existed – one that Mr. Family Trip and I were immediately smitten with.
The balloon culture in Statesville still flies strong. One of the founders of the NC balloon festival and a ballooning legend, Bill Meadows, is hard at work building a balloon museum in Statesville. My husband and I, while grounded and waiting on weather updates, talked to our balloonist (the accomplished and endearing Charles Page from Big Oh! Balloons) as well as Meadows himself.
I watched them laugh with each other over old jokes with a twinge of envy. My hobbies, working out and writing, are independent and solitary activities. But ballooning…these were relationships to grip! These conversations had teeth and the memories went far beyond the festivals and into a created culture everyone there embraced.
Page told us how he came to ballooning and it ran in my head like a movie. A friend dragged him to the Carolina BalloonFest years ago, when it was tiny and they parked on the side of the road. Although it was foggy, he immediately knew THIS was what he wanted. He bought a balloon the moment he landed, before he even learned how to pilot it. Over 36 years later, this is what he and his wife enjoy together.
We learned that there are ballooning families. Generations not only pass down the balloons but grow outwardly and get MORE balloons. Children, cousins, nieces and nephews catch the bug and branch out with their own balloons.
Most balloonists can’t make a full-time livable wage from ballooning so this is something they do for love. They travel to balloon festivals and research balloons and fly balloons in their spare time. I snuggle up with self-help books, Mr. Family Trip conquers Game of Thrones (books and shows) and this group balloons. (Mr. Family Trip nearly bought a hot air balloon while we were there a la Charles Page, it was all so contagious.)
The Festival itself was very fun and well organized. A mainstage was always full of music. There was a beer and wine tent, vendors, and an entire kids area with hysterical magic shows. Of course, fair food was in abundance. (My focus on my 40th was on a hot air balloon ride, but, honestly, it turns out that fried Oreos should have been a life goal.)
Eventually, the official call was made not to have balloons fly but everything was inflated for a ground display.
This is the happy resolution of my story where expectations were exceeded.
While my self-absorbed heart nursed wounded feelings, Mr. Family Trip purchased a North Carolina red wine and said, “Let’s walk.” Even though our children had been taken back to get the chill out and prepare for dinner and bed after an exhausting day of festival going, Mr. Family Trip and I stayed to experience moments of balloons inflating and the Evening Glow.
Walking around the field as the sun set pink in the background, goosebumps prickled my forearms, not related to the drop in temperature. The balloons are not at all cordoned off. Anyone and everyone is free to wander the field, coming right up to the balloons and speaking with the ballooning families. We meandered through colors and towering pengiuns. Balloonists sat in their baskets, occasionally blowing fire into the balloon to cause it to “glow.” The heat was intense.
Yet my goosebumps still prickled. The beauty was astounding. Tears rose to my eyes out of gratitude. Life is so beautiful, and those surprising stunning moments are the ones that sneak up on you and make you feel so happy to be alive, even if we don’t even know what we are really in for and our daydreams fly beyond us.
What a beautiful story. With all the prep, the day you set foot in the basket will fill all your expectations and more. You are a storyteller. I was walking the grounds with you and experiencing all …food included. Keep up the good work!
Thank you so much, Loretta. Of course, you know that when I do eventually fly, I will be sure to share! Can’t wait…