by Mike Layman
It has been said that confession is good for the soul. OK, here's mine. I had traveled to Spokane, Washington at the invitation of The Friends of Spokane Airports Committee, a grass roots organization formed in the Inland Empire city to support local airports and flight activities. We balloonists were but a small, albeit significant, part of the aviation activities scheduled for that weekend in 1996. I had just retrieved my TBW AX-8 (The Wind Song) from our local repair center where it had passed an annual inspection and I was looking forward to a weekend of flying.
After a great Welcome to Spokane party the night before about twenty balloons gathered at Felts Field early on Saturday morning for a briefing and flight clearance. Felts is an old time general aviation field in the Spokane Metropolitan area several miles east of the larger, busier Spokane International. Felts is the home of many airplanes and has a manned tower. Winds were gentle at takeoff but pushed us all to the north rather than to the east which had been forecast and which would have been more favorable for us. To the east was generally open farm and grazing land while to the north lay a significant part of Spokane, including residential and small business areas.
I had a great takeoff and the gentle winds at first allowed me to play along the runway doing touch and goes and talking with the tower crew who, for the most part, were new to ballooning. A climb to 1,000 feet AGL found me following other balloons to the north and I was able to watch a few landings in tight residential areas. Now the wind picked up at ground level and I could see that, while manageable, it was somewhat faster than it had been at takeoff.
I had two young, first flight passengers along with my wife in the basket and we were all enjoying the flight when I saw what I thought would be a great landing place coming up along our flight path. It was a combination soccer and football field and appeared to be of sufficient size to allow for us. I sent the crew out ahead by radio and they soon called to say that they were on the field. At this time we started an approach only to find that, as we neared the ground, we were pushed off course to the NW and it was soon apparent that we would miss the selected target. In front of us now loomed a gravel pit or quarry which had several roads going in and it looked like a good alternate choice for our landing. It did have powerlines at the far end but I decided it would be an OK spot and continued in. As we approached the ground I could see that we were accelerating and, as I eyed the powerlines which were very much in my mind, I allowed the descent to quicken and performed a solid if not hard landing. I have heard this described as landing with authority. The ground had been scraped down to hardpan and had no forgiveness whatsoever.
As might be expected in a landing of this sort, the envelope continued down and I opened the vent at this time. Of course the envelope started to rebound. The flight manual for my balloon mentions this phenomenon and calls for releasing the vent line at this time. "Do not attempt to overcome this force" is a line from the book that is now clear in my mind. In an effort to stop the aircraft which was now closer to the powerlines than I liked I continued to hold the vent open. This effort was rewarded by the sudden separation of the vent line where it was held to the vent bridle by two clamps. One of these clamps fell into one of the burner cans with a resounding "clang!" and the vent line cascaded around my head and shoulders. I knew that the rebound was going to pull us off the ground and now I had no way to stop the forward motion provided by the wind. As we rebounded, I grabbed both burners and we shot up and out of the pit and were soon over the powerlines and on our way north once again.
Great, I thought as we oscillated upwards, now what? After we stabilized and I cleared away the vent line I allowed the balloon to cool and we again started a descent. We were over a populated portion of the city and, although I could see some parks and cemeteries, nothing but houses and other buildings appeared in our flight path. The populated portion of the city seemed to stretch for miles. Each street appeared to be lined with powerlines or trees or both and I thought we might have to fly quite a while to find a suitable landing place. However, luck was apparently with us as I soon spotted a street which was nearly devoid of traffic and had no powerline. It did have some light standards but they were far apart and did not present the hazard proffered by powerlines. I again directed the crew to this spot. I beat them to it but they were on us shortly after touchdown. I used both turning vents to perform a feather soft landing like I wish I had done previously.
Now the real fun began! We had a heck of a time getting the air out of the balloon. The wind was pushing us down the street despite the efforts of about a dozen helpers dragging on the basket. I allowed the envelope to cool, and the one experienced crew person I had was able to pull the envelope down to about halfway to the ground with the crown line but could not get it down more than that. I and a 280 pound assistant attempted to close the mouth of the balloon but simply could not! The fabric was drum tight at the mouth and supported us both off the ground and would not close. I did have somebody tie the basket off to a nearby light pole and that, at least, stopped the dragging and scooting that was propelling us slowly down the street.
Finally after nearly a half hour of struggle, the wind relented and we were able to get the mouth partially closed off. Subsequently, I lifted a small girl up to the vent on the outside and she was able to open it a few feet. We also held the turning vents open and a normal deflation and packup followed.
The flight was interesting to say the least, and, like many aviation incidents, was caused by several factors. In retrospect, I know now that I should have passed on the gravel pit as a landing site, especially after I realized that the powerlines were closer than was comfortable. I also should have heeded the instructions in my flight manual and vented in the prescribed manner. I had allowed the powerlines to alter my thinking. I later went back to the area and saw that I actually had plenty of room to perform a normal landing.