Balloon Life,
May 2000
Experience of others can help prepare you for the unexpected!
HangarFlying
Many yearsago, I spent a weekend on a
privateislandnearTaalVolcanointhe
Philippines. My host was Ben Carangdang,
a balloon enthusiast who invited my wife
Nikkiandmetovisithisfamily-owned
islandduring one of our businesstrips to
Asia.
Thesettingwassomagnificent,I
couldn’tbegin todescribe the awe I felt.
No sounds, no people, no electricity; our
shelter wasa roofedplatform protruding
from a stone wall, with tile showers built
inside a rock cliff just above a black sand
beachcreatedbytheTaalVolcano.Our
total activity was to eat, sleep, swim, play
bridge, and talkabout balloons.
Mostof the conversationwas about
thechallengeitwouldbetoflyinthe
islands, having to land, who knows where,
be it in the sea, in the crater of a volcano,
betweencoconuttrees,orinthejungle.
Taal has two craters. Oneis dormant, with
alakeinsideit,andtheotherisalive,
smoking slightly. What started as idle talk
soon became an obsession. I just had to fly
over Taal Volcano ina balloon.
Returning home, I worked with Mike
AdamsandTarpHead,thenofAdams
Balloons, to come up with a hang balloon
that wouldfitintothreebags. The enve-
lopedesignwasbasedonouroriginal
1967 PiccardL’Esprit de St. Louis: bright
yellow, with a black and white horizontal
center stripe. Mike and Tarp added a few
innovations: a four-inch-wide padded seat,
a flexible harness, and a double vent sys-
temthatenabledmetoface forwardfor
landing.
Back in the Philippines with my new
equipment, I met Ben and we mapped out
plans for the flight.October31, All Saint’s
Day,a major holidayinthe Philippines,
waschosenfor the attempt. At 7a.m. on
the appointed day, we unloaded the equip-
mentonthebeachatBeleteVillage.A
patchof grass appearedlarge enough for
alayout,butnotbeforeweevicteda
couple of goats. Ben directed some of the
crew tocover the goat pileswith banana
leaves. With thelaunch areaprepared, our
crewstartedflappingcoldairintothe
envelope. A bitdisorganizedat first, but
wefinallygotitupright.Burnerson,a
final thank you to the crew and off I flew.
I climbed to 1000 feet, found a gentle
breezeandwasmovingverynicelyto-
wards Taal Islandandthe Volcano. Alti-
tude control inmynew toywasnot con-
trolled. Likea beginner,I was yo-yoing
all over the sky. During one of the drops,
I experienced the balloonist’s nemesis—
aflame-out.Gropingforthestriker,I
finally got the burner re-lit. Knowing that
I was dropping at a respectable rate, Iheld
theburner wideopen. Lookingupat the
burner, I kept offering it words of endear-
ment, “Rise, Baby, Rise!” Inspite of my
verbalefforts,thenextthingIknew,it
wasgurg le-g urgle-gu rgle.Drag gin g
across the surface of the sea on my stom-
ach,myheadfinallycameoutofthe
water.I lookedupandtomygreatsur-
prise,notedthatthepilotlighthadnot
gone out. Still body surfing, I hit the blast
valve,andwasbackinthe airagain. On
shore, thebarrio captain thought this crazy
Americanhadcomeasaguestinhis
village and had then killed himself. When
I rose up again, his comments were modi-
fied: “I guess he got a little warm up there
and decided to gofor a swim.”
Itnow appearedthat Iwasgoingto
miss the island, soI came downnear the
surface andsignaledfor the banca chase
boat,a 30footcanoe with2outriggers,
andaninboard engine, toclose inunder
me.Idescendedandhoveredoverthe
banca.Wedecidedtousemylegasa
dropline.Bengrabbedholdofmyright
leg, trying topullme towardsthe island.
Instead, he cameflying out of theboat into
the drink. Next I tried a tiptoedance on the
bow of the banca,hopingfor a dry land-
ing. When this did not work, I decided to
land in the water. After all, by now I was
quiteexperiencedatwaterlandings.I
pulledthe ripline.Fortunatelythe enve-
lope came downin front of me.
We quicklylearned that the secret to
pulling an envelope out of the drink into a
boat is to get the mouth in fast so no water
will get inside. Once back on shore, while
the crew driedthe envelope byflapping,
wewerethelunchguestsoftheTaal
VolcanoResort,whichfeaturedtwona-
tive fishesfoundonlyin Taal Lake.
Thenextweekend,wereturnedto
Belete,ourlaunchvillage,forasecond
Balloon Life,May 2000
HANGAR FLYING with George Den-
niston is presented to enhance safe flyin g
by providing balloonists the oppo rtunity
to gain experience from others without
actually flying. The column is edited b y
George Denniston who is a d octor and
balloonist living in Seattle, Washington.
Articles may be signed or anonymous to
protect the privacy of those involv ed, as
the author wishes. If you have an experi-
ence th at you would like to share with
others, send your manuscript to Balloo n
Life magazine, Hangar Fly ing wi th
George Denniston, 2336 47th Ave SW,
Seattle, WA 98116-2 331. Submissions
may be typewritten, submitted on disk
(Mac or IBM format), or e-mailed to
tom@balloonlife.com. Balloon Life pays
$35 for each story used.
at tempt.Dayb reakSun daymornin g
brought a beautiful day. We used the best
weather stationavailable: “Lookout the
door!”
Bynow, Ben, with one inflation un-
derhisbelt,becameMr.Efficiency.He
hadmade upa complete check list. This
time we rememberedthe droplineanda
lifepreserver. Crew assignments included
a right leg man and a left leg man. With no
basket, the only thing to hold down during
a windy inflation is the pilot. The two leg
men were put to the test, and camethrough
withflyingcolors.Draggedintosome
bushes, wethree persevered, and finally
got theballoon upright.All set for takeoff.
ThenI noticedthatthe ripline hadcome
out of its ring on the side of the envelope.
Tocorrect this, we hadtodeflate.From
the crowd, the barrio captain was heard to
say,“ThatAmericanguy,hesay-’Oh
shit’- a lot!”
Afterafewmoregustsknockedus
down, we achieved buoyancy once again.
Whenthe leg men let go, off I went. This
time, I climbed to about 1500feet. After
stabilizing,Ilookedaheadexpectingto
see Taal crater,which I wanted to fly over.
Then therealization struck me. Taalwasn’t
ahead of me, it was behind me.
I lookeddownatthe water andsaw
huge white caps. I was moving faster than
Ieverwantedtobemovingacrossthe
water. The bancas were nowhere in sight.
I wantedto come down inthe water, but
with no boats around, it would have been
lonely out there!
It was decision time again. Off in the
distance,Isawanotherisland.Atthe
speed I was traveling, I would be there in
nothing flat. Approaching theisland shore,
my judgement was poor, and I completely
blew the approach. I went back up again,
and sawthe palm trees bending over in the
wind. Climbing to1000 feet, I couldsee
theothersideoftheisland,whichwas
aboutsixmileswide.Icouldalsosee
manygrasshutsbelow me.I couldalso
hear thousands of people screaming, but I
could see noone.
From myvantagepoint,I couldsee
the coast, and beyond it, the China Sea. I
didn’tknow anybodyoutthere,andno-
body knew me. There were no chaseboats
out there. I had no idea how far out to sea
I would be blown before I gotdown.
Once again it was decision time! Up
aheadI couldsee an opening among the
banana and coconut trees. I sized it up as
afieldaboutonehundredfeetlong,a
clumpofbushes,anotherhundredfeet,
then trees. “Let’s give it a shot!” I started
a descent,feeling“No, no, I’mdropping
toofast,I’mmovingtoofast,hitthe
burner and slow this baby down!”It wasn’t
slowing,andI’mcomingin.Thesplit
second my feet hit the ground, I pulled the
rip.Mypop-topballoon,whichisnot
supposedtodrag,deflatedimmediately,
butthespinnakereffecttookover.The
balloon was flat and empty, but the fabric
cuppedtogethertoformasail.Iwas
draggedthroughthefirstfield—whop!
whap!—throughtheclumpofbushes,
throughthe nextfield. Finallywhenthe
balloon wrapped around a tree, I stopped.
I was down, I had made it. I didn’t have a
scratch—just adirty jump suit. Iwas lying
on my back, in nohurryto go anywhere.
BloodyMarycame running up. The
first person to reach me, she was wearing
aloudprintdress,abigstrawhat,no
shoes, and a cigarhanging from the side of
her mouth. “Ya OK,Joe? YaOK, Joe?”
she cried.Soon a crowd ofover700 people
had gathered, half of them still screaming
at the top of their lungs.
Itried to explain to oneof their spokes-
men, “I’m an American! Youknow, one
of the goodguys.” He thoughtI tookoff
fromthe USA. I said, ‘Sure, sure.” Any-
thing they wanted to believe was OK with
me.Afterabout15minutes,Igotthe
people near me to calmdown, but many
on the outer perimeter were still scream-
ing ascream offear. Iknewthey had never
seenanythinglikethisbefore.Tomake
thingsworse,I waswearinganostenta-
tiousyellowjumpsuit,withblackand
white stripes around the legs and chest, to
match the envelope. I looked like a giant
bumblebee!
Finally I convinced some of them to
help me carry my equipment through the
jungle.Durin gth ehike,somewere
screamingwithasmileontheirface,
whileothersshowedsignsofrealfear.
Occasionally, a child would run up to me,
touchme,thenrunaway,yelling.His
friendswouldlaughandhewouldbe-
come the hero. I wished that I could speak
Tagalogso I could understandwhat they
were so concerned about. About halfway
out, we were met by my crew. I asked my
crew chief,Secundo,whatwastheten-
sionamongthepeoplehere?Ishould
Ed Note: Don Caplan began his bal-
looning career in the sixties, and he is still
flying today. The events described here
happened in 1978.
