By Christine Tibbetts
June 23, 2008 12:59 pm
—
Falling out of the sky at 900 feet a minute sounds shocking, but it’s not the least little bit scary if you’re in a hot air balloon.
Can’t even tell you’re going down except the treetops seem closer. Hot air balloons billow over Albuquerque, New Mexico most every day, climbing up above the Rio Grande River at 800 feet a minute on a fast day, or up to 400 feet a minute on the ride I took in June.
Speed had no relevance for me, standing in my wicker basket—a look-alike to the one the Wizard of Oz floated away in when Dorothy and Toto wanted a ride to Kansas.
Not sure I want to go that far, but an hour or so before breakfast in sight of New Mexico’s mountains and high desert is wonderful.
Four other balloons floated around the early morning I went up with nine other people in the basket, plus the pilot. Astonishing feeling to look down into the top of another hot air balloon.
High-flying experiences are easy to access in Albuquerque, which likes to call itself a fit city with an abundance of outdoor recreation. Elite athletes train here for worldwide competitions, claiming the weather, altitude, mountains and numerous climate zones equip them for anything.
I’m no athlete, but I like trying new things, and I really like discovering tiny towns and big cities where I encounter those “Wonder if I’ll ever get a chance to do that?” experiences.
Albuquerque provided so many I almost need to start a new list of big-deal stuff to hope for.
The hot air balloon was only the beginning. Pilot Eric Greenwood started ballooning when he was two, and his mother Emily runs the Albuquerque Balloon Museum.
He’s FAA certified and I believe you want to ask before you go if your pilot is. The city airport is nearby and I listened in to Greenwood’s conversations with the air control tower. Daunting to say the least, but he was confident so I tried to be too.
If you stand close enough to talk to the pilot, you’re also right under the heater firing 12 – 15 million BTUs to keep afloat. Next time, I’m standing at the other end where it’s cooler and quieter.
Go Oct. 4-12 and see hundreds of balloons during the International Balloon Fiesta: rides like mine and competitions among expert racers and chasers.
Hot air balloon chasing is a career line to consider. Felipe Saldona chatted with me after I reached the ground, rejoicing as he rolled up 900 pounds of very densely woven rip stop nylon.
“Fifteen years of sitting behind a desk, managing a $750 million corporate budget,” he said, “is good to leave behind.
“Now I’m outside every day, helping share beautiful balloon experiences with delighted people every day.”
Terra firma also called to me in this city, even though the ground is high too. The river valley rests at 4,500 feet, a big change for a sea-level hometowner like me, and the Sandia Mountain foothills reach altitude 6,500.
I chose Petroglyph National Monument with 19 miles of trails for a hike among more than 20,000 ancient carvings in the extinct volcanoes west of the city. The two-mile route I followed put me in a mini volcanic valley and afforded sweeping views of high desert land.
More importantly, it put my footsteps on the paths used by people for whom volcanoes were spiritual, and along the route of Pueblo dwellers who carved images into stone with smaller rocks.
Their meaning? “We don’t know for certain,” says National Park Service Monument director Diane Souder, “but we do know they connect people to their ancestors, and reaffirm spiritual connections.”
To be here alone is my recommendation. This is a place for sensing, not chatting, respecting, not commenting.
The raptors overhead, the roadrunners under foot, the blooming cactus and the thousands of images carved in black rock all seem to share messages.
Quiet is abundant too at 12,000 feet up in a glider. Soaring like a bird in a little plane with no motor is easily available for dreamers and adventurers in this central New Mexico city.
Take the controls if you like; I didn’t. Sitting in front of a plane so tiny and light that two of us deftly pushed it out of the hanger to the runway was adventure enough.
Gripping the seat seemed better suited to my skills, occasionally venturing loose to click the camera.
Glider pilots rely on thermals, “parcels of air heated by the sun, lighter and rising,” says pilot and Sundance Aviation owner Rick Kohler, and they love long flights best of all.
“We had a 700 mile flight from this airport, and many of 3-500 miles.” Mine was more of a circle overhead, back to the ground in 35 minutes and that was fine with me.
Gliders need a tow to catch the thermals, detected by gauges in the plane and pilot instinct.
“Raptors circling overhead use the currents and we do too,” said my pilot Andrew Taher. “Soaring is organic, similar to fly fishing. You feel what you need.”
I liked watching the gliders and the raptors from the ground, but at 11,000 feet on my ride I stared often at the horizon to hold motion-queasy feelings at bay.
Taher, however, joyously says “Plenty of times I find myself sharing a thermal with a soaring bird.”
Ground level air can be shared too, with smaller birds and cottonwood trees. Riding bikes on the paved Bosque Trail is another Albuquerque tradition with rentals and guides available.
Those elite bicyclists training for Tour de France and other races choose tall mountains, but this north-south trail in the center of town is a cinch to access and depart, yet removes you from city hustle and bustle completely.
Sixteen miles are groomed and welcoming with wheelchair accessibility; no roads cut through.
Interesting places to slip off the trail for lunch are easy to find, as is the Rio Grande Botanic Garden that includes an aquarium, and Tingley Beach with shady spots and a catch-and-release fishing pond.
I didn’t make it the whole length but lots of people do, and they’re looking forward to taking their bikes on the light rail that is under development to nearby Santa Fe for some biking and exploring there too.
Winding through the desert in a four-person jeep also connected me to the land, including plenty of sacred places that mattered to Pueblo dwellers hundreds of years ago, and still do today.
“I’m on sensitive land with five generations of ancestry,” says Rock Hart of the roads he uses to take visitors way out of downtown Albuquerque.
“We can see boundless amounts of pottery shards, but we don’t take anything. Many days we see wild horses, but we don’t frighten them.
“These lands carry history sacred to many and the way we visit reflects our respect,” says Hart, who left a long career as a police officer to share the New Mexico he adores with others.
He lives in a house built of straw, supported with post and beam concrete, to honor the environment too, and reduce his family’s heating and cooling bills.
Look forward to a lot of passion on this jeep tour, as well as the incredible New Mexico scenery.
Jeep tour scenery is wheels on the road, familiar feeling even in territory very different from my South Georgia home.
Sandia Mountain peak tram tour is not a familiar feeling. Exciting. Inspiring. Dramatic. Fun for me but probably not for my family members with fear of heights.
In 15 minutes or so, this tram climbs 4,000 feet up the rugged western mountain face. Granite they are, spires, cliffs and pinnacles, and a forest too with pine, fir and spruce.
I doubt if I’d be a safe or skilled mountain rock climber, but being in this Albuquerque tram let me pretend to be one. Face to face with the earth’s crust, probably created a billion years ago, satisfied me.
On top you can gaze for miles every which way, have a meal in the restaurant, look through narrow pipes labeled with the view out the other end, or watch the next tram come up what’s considered the world’s longest continuous cable aerial route, and decide when and how you’ll return below. Tram or hike, that’s it.
Can’t stay on top, but you’ll want to linger in Albuquerque.
Copyright © 1999-2008 cnhi, inc.
Photos
Christine Tibbetts