On December 12 of this past year, I lifted off into a clear, deep blue Antarctica sky in my homebuilt/experimental balloon "JIMI". This was the first-ever manned balloon flight above Antarctica. Upon lifting off, I also had the pleasure of becoming the first person to have ballooned above all seven continents.

The story begins more than five years ago, with my initial interest in ballooning above this ice-covered continent. The first thing I discovered back then was the astronomical cost of going to Antarctica. Getting myself and the balloon equipment there was simply far beyond my reach without sponsorship or some other special arrangement. But I continued to explore the possibilities because my interest was high.

For the next four years I pursued the idea, with no luck until last year when Adventure Network International (ANI), the only non-governmental organization operating in the interior of Antarctica, contacted me to ask if I was still interested in ballooning in Antarctica. They only needed to ask once.

ANI’s idea was to provide transportation for me and the balloon equipment to their camp at Patriot Hills. Then exploratory flights would be made to determine whether or not it would be safe to take their clients for balloon flights. For me it was like a dream come true.

When the project received a definite ‘yes’ in the end of September, there was plenty of work to be done to prepare for the trip. It was imperative that even the smallest need be anticipated in advance since it would be impossible to have anything shipped down later.

On the other hand, nothing could be taken which wasn’t absolutely necessary, because the cost to transport goods to Antarctica was so unbelievably high. It was impressed upon me that the equipment weight must be kept to a bare minimum. Of particular concern was the weight of the balloon itself. The largest of my existing lightweight envelopes would be perfect. "JIMI", with 54,000 cu. ft. of volume, weighs only 75 lbs. yet could easily carry three people in the cold Antarctic air.

Another requirement was that all the balloon equipment be small enough to easily fit inside of a Cessna in case retrieval after a flight needed to be made by plane. So I designed and made a 30 lb. basket that would comfortably carry three people and when packed up would fit in a duffel bag.

Right: Unloading fuel from the C-130 at Patriot Hills. Fuel had to be brought to Patriot Hills on non-passenger carrying flights.
Left: At Patriot Hills housing consisted of a tent city scattered around the compound.

Below Left: Ready to inflate JIMI using prop wash from a Twin Otter.

Below Right: Damaged basket from the second attempt at a Free Flight at Patriot Hills.

After it started to sink in that I would be making the first manned balloon flight in Antarctica, I got the idea that maybe it should also be my seventh continent. The only problem was that I hadn’t yet flown above Australia nor Africa. But I felt that because Antarctica is so difficult to get to that it should be the last continent I balloon over. It was the only appropriate order. Crazy as it was, it seemed reasonable to me.

Faxes were sent off to friends in South Africa and Australia. They agreed to help on this wild mission. I had enough airline miles to cover most of the flight costs. So off I went in early November on a whirlwind trip for the specific purpose of making a balloon flight in Africa and another in Australia and to get back home as quickly as possible.

As it turned out, the goal was accomplished in record time. The majority of my time was spent on planes or in airports. In Broederstroom, South Africa, Jim and Maureen Burgess took care of me, putting me up in their spare bedroom and providing a balloon to fly the following morning. John and Christie Wallington did the same in Yarralumla, Australia. Arriving back home less than six days after leaving, I had gone more than halfway around the world and made balloon flights above two new continents. Now I was ready to go to Antarctica!

ANI’s camp at Patriot Hills is well into the interior of Antarctica. To get there, it’s a 7 hour flight on a Hercules C-130 from Punta Arenas, Chile. I arrived in Punta Arenas on December 1 and spent a few days there finalizing the equipment that would be taken to Patriot Hills. Most important were the propane and nitrogen fittings. By now the anticipation of going to Antarctica had grown to the point I was as excited as a little kid on Christmas morning, about ready to explode. But we had to wait until the weather at Patriot Hills was suitable.

December 6th was flight day. Improving weather and acceptable winds were reported at Patriot Hills, so the Herc was loaded on the 5th and we took off just after midnight on the 6th. Some of the other 26 passengers on board were going on to the South Pole for a quick visit, some would go to Mt. Vinson base camp to climb Antarctica’s highest peak. The rest of us were planning to spend our time at the Patriot Hills camp. All of us were giddy with excitement. It was the strangest looking collection of passengers, each of us in full winter expedition garb, sitting in the cavernous hold of the big plane.

It was my good fortune to be able to sit in the cockpit as we touched down on the ice at Patriot Hills. This is the only place in Antarctica where a plane lands on wheels; everywhere else they use skis. As soon as we slid to a stop and taxied over to the off- loading point, the plane was unloaded, outgoing passengers and gear were put on board and the plane returned to Punta Arenas. When the plane left, the silence was overwhelming and a sense of remoteness set in.

Our closest neighbors were a full 700 miles away, at the South Pole! About a mile from where the plane landed was our camp, an almost comical collection of brightly colored tents, looking so insignificant in the surrounding vast landscape. But it was to be my only refuge for the next month.

A staff of 15 maintained the camp. Everyone was important. The camp manager, a cook and assistant, doctor, radio operator, pilots of the two on-site twin Otters and Cessna, mechanics, weatherman, climbing guide. As many as 30 clients might also be in camp at any given time, but usually less.

It quickly became apparent that the largest tent, about 12’x40’, was also the most important, containing the kitchen and dining area. It was the center of activities, whether at meal times, for card games, cribbage, a cup of tea and conversation, or to sit and read. It was the only tent which was heated, so it was comfortable no matter what the weather.

Meals were great. The cooks were able to prepare just about anything. The main limitation was what fresh produce was on hand, which depended on when the last Herc had arrived. A network of caves dug down into the snow always held at least a month’s worth of supplies for fifty people, in the event that bad weather prevented the Herc from coming.

The weather varied greatly, but wild and windy were common. Occasionally the wind would calm down for a while and it would be downright pleasant in the intense sun. Whereas the previous year’s weather had been the best in ten years, with an abundance of calm conditions, this season would go down as the stormiest of summers. Of course this was not good for ballooning.

Outside temperatures ranged from down near 0 F and up to about 25 F. It was the middle of the southern summer, the warmest it would be all year. Patriot Hills is at 80 South latitude, so far south that the sun stays above the horizon for close to three months. It was uncanny to watch it move around the sky, the shadows changing, the light a bit more intense during the middle of the day. In fact, the sun was so strong that it was necessary to cover any exposed skin with sunblock. Most surprising was how hot it would get inside the tents when the sun was high in the sky.

Hazardous materials, such as fuel for the airplanes or propane for the balloon, could not be brought in on flights with passengers. So my propane arrived a few days after I did, on the next "fuel flight" of the Herc. The propane was transferred by gravity feed from the 100 lb. bulk tanks into the 10 gal. Worthington’s to be used for flights. Although nitrogen was available, I opted to put the propane tanks inside my little tent where they would easily stay warm enough to provide good flying pressure. The balloon was now ready to take advantage of the next calm spell.

Left: Balloon Mail carried aboard JIMI on the occasion of the first manned flight by hot air balloon in Antarctica, December 12, 1995.
Such weather arrived on December 12. A pibal confirmed that even the air above the surface was calm. Since part of the inflation fan was lost somewhere between Oregon and Chile, we used one of the propellers of a twin Otter to inflate JIMI. It literally popped open in just moments. After heating it up, camp manager Geoff Somers got into the basket with me. To the cheers of the twenty-three witnesses, we lifted off on the historic first manned balloon flight above Antarctica.

The view as we climbed became more and more spectacular. Before long we could clearly see Mt. Vinson, about 100 miles off to the north. The endless expanse of white around us made the camp look even smaller and less significant. The higher we went, the faster we moved over the snow. It was all too soon that Geoff reluctantly said we had better go down and land, since we were fast approaching the practical limits for a retrieval by snowmobile. If the balloon were to land too far from camp it would need to be picked up by airplane, which would be extremely expensive. Geoff decided it would be best to only use the plane if and when clients were flying.

We touched down twenty minutes after taking off. The surface wind had picked up significantly, resulting in a rip-out landing. Conditions sure do change quickly in Antarctica. After dinner, Geoff was properly initiated as an Aeronaut and there was quite a bit of toasting the success and beauty of the flight. Everyone drew straws to decide who would get to fly next.

Gale force winds arrived that day and stayed with us for almost a week. Oftentimes the blowing snow caused whiteout conditions, making it dangerous to venture away from the tents. The wind finally subsided on December 17 and then calmed completely on the 18. A pibal went straight up for over 3000 feet. It appeared to be perfect ballooning conditions, so JIMI was inflated once more.

Just seconds after completing the hot inflation, violent gusting winds struck without warning, whipping the balloon back and forth at the end of the tie-off line. Before I had a chance to deflate the envelope, there was a loud pop! quickly followed by other ‘interesting’ sounds of various parts of the balloon failing at the point the tie-off line was attached, until it tore free. In a flash I was being dragged along at a fast clip, holding on for dear life, not at all sure what had happened or maybe worse yet, what was still to happen.

Even after getting hold of the vent line and opening the top, it took ages for the balloon to slow down and finally stop. Luckily I wasn’t injured. At this point I discovered that Big Al, the mechanic, had grabbed onto the side of the basket when it broke loose. He had hung on until the whole mess stopped moving! Undoubtedly without his added weight the balloon would have been blown much further.

The damage the equipment had sustained was repairable, but the decision was made to not attempt any more balloon flights since it was very obvious to all that the weather was unpredictable and fast-changing. I felt very fortunate to have had the opportunity to make at least the one flight.

In all, I spent a month at Patriot Hills and thoroughly enjoyed it. Because life there was a bit primitive (some would be inclined to say downright uncomfortable), I find myself explaining that most people would not have enjoyed it. But I was in heaven. Antarctica is the last major frontier on Earth and I am glad to have gotten a taste of what is like to be on the raw edge of that frontier.