COLOR AND JOY: When Balloonists and Kayakers Converge

HOT AIR BALLOONS have historically sought out open water. Afterall, it took only two years after French scientist Pilatre De Rozier completed the first successful balloon launch in 1783 before a pair of subsequent aviators sought and succeeded to pilot a gas-powered balloon across the English Channel.

The attraction of balloons to water is quite alright by me. Few things in life are more dazzling and exciting for me to behold from the cockpit of kayak than the colorful spheres of hot air balloons sailing across my bow. Thanks to celebratory annual balloon festivals held around the country, I know where to find them. With an equally colorful fleet of kayaks that I rent out on balloon launch mornings the balloons in the sky know exactly where to find me.

I awake in the predawn hours to transport, unload, and assist two dozen kayakers onto the Hudson River and position them in the best viewing spot for the 6am lift-off. The smart ones bring thermos of coffee. And sunglasses. Watching the sunrise on the Eastern shore is an added perk of our predawn launch. The sky’s pink and purple hues melting into all shades of blue visually prepares us for the array of colors to be showcased soon at the launching of multi-color balloons.

On the river calm – on a front-row seat – we watch as one; then two; then more balloons spread out on the vast shoreline field before us, gradually inflating with air. The scene is incredible. We crane our necks looking upwards. While none of the 60-to-80-foot-tall balloons before us reach the world record of 185 feet tall, one or two look to us as if they come close. Once airborne a hot air balloon can rise high, even upwards of 3,000 feet!

Distant onlookers are also watching the balloons prepare for flight from the former railroad trestle-turned pedestrian bridge spanning more than a mile across the river. Crowds began arriving at the Walkway Over the Hudson almost as early as my 4am start. We can see people the size of ants huddled together 212-feet above us, also eagerly awaiting the balloons to rise.

The world’s largest pedestrian bridge is eye-catching, as interesting to gaze upon as the motor-vehicle-used suspension Mid-Hudson bridge directly behind it. Both glimmer in the morning sunlight, promising to provide stunning visual backdrops to the myriad of hot air balloon pictures we will later shoot.

Six thousand people visit the Walkway Over the Hudson Bridge state park each year, many on foot, others by bike. To our squinting eyes there appear that many visitors this morning.

Walkway visitors appear drawn – just like the hot air balloon launch they came to observe – not just by height, but by water and particularly the crossing of the mile-long Hudson River. Balloon enthusiasts also take pride in passing from shore-to-shore. In 1987 the feat of crossing the Atlantic Ocean by balloon was achieved; the Pacific Ocean in 1991. However, today it is not the crossing of the Hudson River that entices balloonists; they come for the joy of flight, for the camaraderie and festivity of being alongside other balloon enthusiasts, and for the universal satisfaction that arises anytime humans have succeeded in overcoming the laws of physics and gravity – although I am confident the river view is certainly a scenic wonder not to be discounted.

The Dutchess County Regional Chamber of Commerce began hosting its annual balloon festival in 1991. In its early years it was hosted at the county airport before moving to the Hudson shoreline. Balloons launch each morning at 6am, and again at 6pm on Friday through Sunday. I sleep very little that weekend; shuttling boats back and forth to provide the up-and-close, unobstructed hot balloon liftoff experience that only a kayak can provide.

A white and green striped balloon is the early riser this morning. Our excitement mounts when its basket rises from the ground. “We have lift-off,” I announce to the paddlers within earshot. A six-colored balloon with vertical stripes topped with checkered boxes rises next. We stash our thermos into the hull and pick up our paddles when we realize its aeronaut is piloting his balloon in our direction.

The first hot air balloons were entirely dependent upon wind. The Nineteenth Century saw an almost universal reliance upon hydrogen and helium fueled systems. As a wicker-basket gondola moves close to use we are able to observe the pilot steering his balloon by use of what looks to be twin blowers with tubing lining into the basket where we assume tanks are stored. He makes the steering look easy.  

I am fiddling with my camera, replacing my zoom telephoto lens with an up-close lens I look up when I hear a balloon passenger comment, “Look how colorful all the kayaks are.” It is more than the calm morning that makes the statement audible. The masterful steering of the balloon pilot has lowered his balloon to the water’s edge directly in front of my boat. I marvel as the basket – adorned with a lifesaving rescue buoy – touches the water. I instinctively respond to the lady, “That’s like the pot calling the kettle black,” I answer, “Your balloons are so abounding in color.”

To my astonishment, this is not an isolated incident. Balloons have lowered themselves to the water’s edge on both my port and starboard. I find myself in a dither having to decide which direction in which to capture the moment on my camera. Every which way, kayakers and balloonists are chit-chatting, exploding in exuberance. I eventually lower my camera and live in the moment. Extending my double-bladed paddle to the gondola basket, I exchange a high-five with one of the passengers.

The interaction between us recreational mariners and our aviator equivalents surpassed twenty minutes. Meanwhile other balloons were drifting along the Walkway bridge as if it was a parade route and they were floats in the Macy’s Day Thanksgiving Day parade.

After pleasing both crowd and passengers with aerial attention, one-by-one each balloons rose vertically, availed itself of an air current, and drifted away. In their wake was us kayakers and the pedestrians on the Walkway, all jubilant and well satisfied.

As for me, I was ever-excited about doing it again that evening when the balloons again rose at 6pm – but first I couldn’t wait to take a nap.

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Michael Kelsey operates AWAY Adventures Guide and Outfitters Services wherein he prides himself on bringing paddlers and balloonists together. Contact him at AWAYAdventureGuide@gmail.com to learn about upcoming events.