Bicentennial Balloon Ride Rises To The Occasion

The large crowd of spectators surrounding us clapped and cheered as we rose from the safety of the earth. I felt a lump in my throat as the last tether was released and we were on our way up, headed – somewhere.

It was 1976 and everyone felt the energy surrounding the bicentennial of the Declaration of Independence, a lifetime event that you remember forever. I knew I would since I was in the midst of it all as a summer intern at the Republican Eagle, working toward my journalism degree at UW-River Falls.

I wasn’t focused on our country’s forefathers signing a piece of paper 200 years earlier that would start a new country. No, I was thinking about all the things scheduled that July 4 – the huge parade down Seventh Street to Colvill Park, the crowds, the fireworks. The city even had a bicentennial commission that organized it all, including hiring someone to pilot a hot air balloon over town, a flight I would be on.

The balloon ride was scheduled for 6 pm. The pilot and balloon owner, Bill McGinley, explained that you need very still air to fly them. Midday is bad because of all the thermals that make for a rough ride. Bill and I got off the ground about 6:30 on a gorgeous evening. An impetuous bicentennial commissioner wanted to ride with us but Bill confided in me later that “there was no way that guy was riding with us.” There wasn’t room and you don’t need that when you are thousands of feet up.

So, up we went in the red, white and blue balloon – Bill and I, two tanks of propane, controls for heat, an altimeter and a rate of climb indicator. Oh, and a roll of toilet paper. No, it’s not what you’re thinking. As we floated at different altitudes, Bill would rip off a piece of paper and toss it out. If it went down, we were going up and vice versa. Very scientific. We ascended at about 200 feet per minute. It was really fun watching everything get smaller and smaller. I envisioned us floating over downtown where I expected to get some great shots.

As we went up, a very slight breeze took us over the river toward the Red Wing airport. But as we ascended more, the wind shifted and we started to float back over town. We continued to climb and soon we were in a haze which obscured the landscape far below. At 7,820 feet (1.4 miles) Bill, watching the fuel gauge, decided we should start our descent.

Now, I liked Bill. He was careful about every aspect of flying his balloon. Except for landing. When he asked me where we could land I thought, “What? You brought me all the way up here, we’re now low on fuel and you’re asking me where to land?” I wondered if we’d find ourselves in the Land of Oz.

I found out later that Bill was from Davenport, Iowa which is also on the Mississippi River. But there the land is mostly flat farm fields so you can land almost anywhere. Well, not here, mister. We have an abundance of bluffs, trees, and water. At least he didn’t pull out a map.

Now, during this whole time floating above, Bill’s wife was driving their chase car and trailer, trying to figure out where we were headed. There were no cell phones or GPS back then. My dad, brother Dave and some others were also following us. Unknown to me at the time, my mother was at home worried sick (literally) about me.

As we descended, we headed south of town. At about where the Skyline Ballroom used to be we hit an air current that redirected us back toward town. So, now we were following Hay Creek, skimming the tops of 100-foot trees. Except for almost being out of fuel, this was actually the most enjoyable part of the ride. It was so peaceful and the sun’s angle was providing a beautiful contrast of light and shadow on the deep green forest.

Reality returned when we hit the top of a tree and the basket spun wildly. He had brought us too low. We recovered and he brought us up a bit as we moved to a more open area. In the distance I could see the new section of Pioneer Road just south of S.B. Foot Tanning Co. This is not your ideal landing area. It’s a swamp.

At touchdown, we got dragged on the ground by the still moving balloon, stopping about 100 yards from the road in a rare dry spot. The chase cars had found us. Bill hollered to his wife that they would have to come out there and bring the balloon in because there were power lines along the edge of the road and deadhead trees on the other side. She replied, “Nothing doing. You fly that thing over here onto the road!” I think she had had a long day.

So, Bill shouted to everyone that we would go up and over the wires and he would throw down a rope that they should grab to pull us in. He gave it all the fuel we had left and up we went, just over the wires. Then he shut the flame off and screamed, “Grab the rope, all of you, and pull us down. Now!”

Brother Dave said he got pulled up into the air by the balloon’s momentum. The basket spun around several times before we finally landed, balloon still intact. Bill, who had hundreds of hours of flight experience, was the most relieved.  He told me that we would have run out of fuel if we had taken that third passenger. Good to know, Bill.

The balloon was again set up at Colvill Park with its flame creating a dazzling orb in the festive darkness. Yet it revealed no clues about its adventure that day.

May the tricentennial reach such lofty heights.