As most Balloon Festivals go, the first days flight started out on a bright sunny morning, April 25th, 1997. Almost no wind but a fair early morning drainage going southwest of Skinner Lake near Temecula, California which is halfway between L.A. and San Diego, just east of the coast range. The second day started out just about like the first day except the winds at higher altitudes were going generally to the Northeast. The balloonists had been told the day before that flying to the northeast of the launch site was not a good way to go. There were mountains and brush country and not many roads. Well, guess where the hare went? You guessed itÑnortheasterly. After approximately 25 to 30 minutes of flying, the hare dropped down and caught some of the drainage to the southwest and landed. By this time many balloons, including me, were on the northeast side of Skinner Lake but by now the drainage to the southwest was reversing.
There was no hope of getting anywhere close to the target so I called on my crew to head out in my direction as soon as possible. Since they were winding their way around the mountains, my crew informed me that they had lost sight of me. I told them that I would maintain altitude as long as I could so that they could get close enough to find me when I landed. As I lazily approached a small mountain I contemplated climbing and landing on the top of it and staying there until my crew had visual contact.
About 40 to 50 feet from the top of Black Mountain I suddenly gained speed to about 10 to 15 miles per hour. I was ascending but not fast enough to clear the top of the mountain. The basket was slammed into the brush and rocks just at the peak. After a wild pendulum ride for a quarter of a mile, I found myself literally falling out of the sky on the eastern side of the mountain. I burned a good long burn but still kept falling. I've been flying for 15 years and have never felt so out of control and helpless. Nothing I could do at that point was going to keep me from crashing. Thank goodness for the thick brush that helped cushion the blow.
I've experienced quite a few hard landings in my time. When flying with student pilots I have purposely not corrected them when they didn't burn soon enough to avoid a hard landing, so I know what it feels like to hit the ground at 600 feet per minute. I've always thought that an unexpected hard landing was a pretty good teacher. I would estimate that I was falling well over that when I hit the ground. I had no intentions of landing in that remote area so I simply let the balloon bounce up and gain altitude as I checked for damage. Needless to say, I was a little shocked and stunned. As I was thinking about this whole situation and trying to analyze what was happening, I found that I was being swept up and back into the lee side of the mountain I had just come over. Even though I was ascending I had to burn to increase my rate of ascent to avoid being dashed into the side of the mountain. As I shot up the side and to the top of the mountain I was again swept out and away from the mountain top.
By now I had determined that I was in a rotor. Well, so much for reading about them and thinking that I would probably never experience one. I decided that I had at least two choices. One, I could climb out high enough to get out of the rotor. I didn't like this idea too much as it was getting late and that would just take me further into inaccessible country and the possibility of late morning thermals. The second choice was to try to land as soon as possible even though this area was not nearly as accessible as I would have liked. I think of myself as a pretty good pilot, so I thought I could fly my way into a reasonable landing even though I would probably encounter down drafts and turbulence.
As I started my descent I found that, just like before, I was suddenly falling out of the sky. I was again in the down side of the rotor. As anyone can visualize, a rotor is just a big whirlwind turned on its side. Even though I was burning, with both burners at times, I was still falling. I could feel the hot air being pushed out of the envelope and rushing downward into the basket. The top of the balloon must have been flat as a pancake from the down draft. As I crashed into the brush I pulled the red line. As before, I bounced up and became airborne again and the wind started to carry me up and back into the mountain. With the top partially out I descended quickly but mother nature wasn't through with me yet. The wind just caught the deflating envelope and carried me along the ground crashing through brush and large rocks as big as semi-trailers. I just stayed as close to the bottom of the basket as I could, pulling red line and ducking broken brush limbs. I finally stopped when the basket became jammed in a rock crevasse about 200 yards up the side of the mountain. The envelope was still flopping around in a pretty stiff breeze as I walked away - happy to be walking.
My crew pulled up just as I made this last landing and radioed their concern for my well-being. I told them I was O.K. except for a few bruises and scratches. I suggested that they stay on the road as it was impossible to get the balloon out because of the high wind. I hiked down the mountain through shoulder high brush to the road. After I regained my composure and had a soft drink we headed for our hotel. The envelope was still being helplessly blown into the air as we drove away. I expected that it would be in shreds by the next morning. I have a new respect for the phrase don't mess with mother nature.
The evening was spent thinking and talking about how to retrieve the balloon. It would be next to impossible to pack the balloon out unless we had a company of marines to help us. The only solutions we could come up with were to either pack a fan up to the balloon and fly it out, or get a helicopter to air lift it out. The helicopter company wanted $850 to air lift it out. Needless to say, we chose to attempt to fly it out.
Early the next morning, three of us (myself and two very good friends from nearby San Diego, Paul Mefford and son Paul, Jr.) started up the mountainÑwith the fan tied to the back of a very strong young man. After looking over the envelope as best as I could, we decided to try for an inflation. The terrain is impossible to describe. One person had to hold the fan on a rock and direct the flow of air as close to where the throat should be as possible. The other two of us pulled the envelope out of the rock crevasses and off the bushes. The envelope was uphill from the basket. It was almost impossible to stand and keep our balance because of the steep terrain and large rocks. Everything was so tangled it was hard to know which end was up. We finally got enough cold air in the envelope so I could do some very short and very small burns. After a long struggle the balloon began to rise. All the lines were tangled, which I couldn't see before, and the top pulled out as the red line became taut from being tangled and caught under the basket. With no way to pull on the crown line the envelope fell directly on top of the basket and the fan. We had to start all over again. This time however, the balloon was somewhat freed from the rocks and brush and was laying more or less downhill.
Another half an hour of struggling and we finally got the balloon airborne. We got it to a clearing not far away and dismantled a metal gate to get the chase vehicle and trailer to the clearing. Looking back, I'm still amazed that the three of us successfully retrieved the balloon. There was some damage to the basket and a few tears in the envelope but, all things considered I was very lucky.
Now, just a word about the hare balloon. The hare balloon led a lot of balloons into an area that probably should have been avoided. The hare balloon pilot then landed just inside the Skinner Lake park area, which was designated a red zone. That sure leaves the other pilots wondering what to do. Should we have violated the rules and landed there too or were we expected to fly on over a very large red zone? One other balloon landed about a half mile from me and crashed and burned. No one was hurt, but they started a small grass fire and the envelope was totaled. After this particular balloon event I have a greater appreciation for the responsibilities of a hare balloon pilot. I didn't see what happened to the pilots who came close to the target because I had a heap-a-trouble of my own.