April 1999
aballooninAlaskaissimilarto
beingstrandedintheoceanwithout any
water todrink.
“Thestrangestthingforpeopleto
grasp is we have all this spacebut we can’t
goanywhere,”saidCarolKlein,of An-
chorage.“Youcanflyanywhereinany
directionandbe in complete wilderness.
You reallyhave tobe conservative. You
canbe veryadventurous if youwant, but
it’s very expensive.”
Because veryfew roadsexist, chase
crews may have to resort to renting snow-
mobiles and helicopters ($400 an hour) if
you get off the beaten path. Just getting to
anothertowninAlaskamaymeanan
airplane or boat ride.
StanZielinski,70 ,o fFairbanks,
stakes claim as Alaska’s first balloonist. It
was 1967 during Alaska’s centennial pur-
chase celebration when the lateBill Berry,
thenexecutive director ofthe Parachute
ClubofAmerica,visitedAlaskafrom
California to demonstrate his experimen-
tal balloon,complete witha gasballoon
basketimported from Belgium.
Zielinski,aceramic’spro fessor,
woundupcrewingfor theballoon, then
flying it himself. He flew the balloon that
yearfrom Seattle’sSpaceNeedletoen-
courage touriststovisitAlaska.
Eachflightinthoseearlydayswas
experimental.Zielinskisoondiscovered
that propane tanks had tobe pressurized
in cold weather, so he filled tubs with hot
wateranddippedthetankspriortohis
flight.
“I’vetrieditat40belowanthat’s
silly,”Zielinskisaid.“ThefirsttimeI
tried it, theinside ofthe balloon frosted up
withcondensation.”
It took days to dry out the envelope.
Once he flew along the Tanana River
when the wind picked up, preventing him
from landing on the last road. He felt good
abouthittingthe shore ofanislandand
waspreparedtostaythe nightuntilthe
militaryshowedup.
“That was the night the radio didn’t
work and I was carrying all this survival
gear, so I just fired up my burners and this
huge helicopter, pilot, co-pilot and medic
came to pick me up,” he said. “Usually
they only rescue people and not salvage
the balloon.”
Zielinskirecalls one“JohnnyCome
Lately” who purchased anew balloon and
decided to fly it that same day, despite not
having any training or having the balloon
registeredor insured.
Duringtheflight,windssuddenly
pickeduptoareported35knots.When
the pilot attempted to land, he was thrown
fromthebasket.Theballooncontinued
more than 30 miles downstream before it
landedandcaught fire.
“What didn’t burn up blew up. Thirty
minuteslater, he’s got nothing buta pile
of junk,” Zielinskisaid.
Zielinski once held the record for the
northern-most hot-air balloon flight when
hetookaballoontoBarrowforaWill
Rogersmemorialflight.The equipment
wasflowninbyairplane.Othershave
balloonedattheNorthPolesincehis
Al ask a’smo u ntai ns ,th eo cean
breezes and winds that flowfrom glaciers
canprovidechallengingandunexpected
weather conditions.
“Wehavesomeremarkablewinds
sometimes,likeclearairtu rbulence,”
Zielinski said. “You could be landing in a
normal no-wind condition, then a horren-
douswindcomesbyandyouare2,000
feet with no assistance from the burners.”
Despitethechallengingconditions,
balloons were acommon sight in the early
’80s,whenasmanyastwodozenaero-
stats could be spotted in Anchorage skies.
But aninsurance crisis and a general
economic plungearound 1985 caused most
Alaska balloonists to give up their hobby,
or move away.
“Peoplecouldn’taffordtogoany-
more,” CarolKlein said.“There weren’t
enough of us to make it worth (the insur-
ancecompany’s)trouble.Westillhave
people who thinkwe’re some sort of for-
eign country.”
Although Alaska balloonists can ob-
tain insurance today, it’snever reallyre-
coveredfrom that slump inthe ’80s.
Development in Anchorage - to more
than 250,000 residents - has hindered fly-
ing there. In the summer, Klein flies with
herhusband,Jack,300milesinlandin
Fairbanks, taking tourists for rides around
the city.
“Anchorageused to bea popularplace
to fly, but therearen’t any decent places to
fly here any more,” she said. Balloons that
strayed onto nearby Elmendorf Air Force
Base hadtodeclare emergenciesto land
andwere greeted withrescue quads.
One pilotsaidflyinginAnchorage,
surrounded by mountains and water, cre-
atedanaturalhigh, withthe beautyand
being “so close to disaster.”
DonReed,ofAnch orage,h asn’t
flown inhiscity inyears.
“Therearen’t that many decent places
tofly,” he said.“Wehave the growth of
April1999
itand not toomanyplaces in the middle.”
But hefondly recalls ballooning’s
heyday in the early ’80s.
“It got to the point you literally may
not know somebody who was flying,”he
said.
The only annual balloon festival in
the state coincided with the Fur Rendez-
vous each February in Anchorage. The
nine-dayfestival,which includesdogsled
races,startedmorethan50yearsago
when minors and trappers got together in
the dead of winter to prevent cabinfever.
All of Alaska’s seven balloons appeared
in 1978, and 22 balloons flew in 1982,
beforetheballoonpart ofthefestival
officially ended.
Mel Hanson, aSt. Louis-areabal-
loonist,spent eachFebruaryfrom 1982 to
1994inAnchorage flying- or tryingto fly
corporate balloons.
“There’s nothinglike itup there,”he
said. If you land more than 100 feet off a
road in four feet of snow, recovery is a
problem.
“We had to be pulled out of snow
banks many times and had a hard time
finding landing spots. We had to land in
the middle of nowhere and it took hours
and hours to pull the balloon out.”
Standard equipment for the crew in-
cluded a toboggan and plenty of rope in
the chase truck to pull the balloon to the
road.
“It was almost like being in another
country,” hesaid.“We hadsomewild
times. We had some fun.”
His most vivid memory ofAlaska
was hovering over the Eagle River, just
north of Anchorage.
“You can count 50 to 60 eagles on a
tree,” Hanson said.
Butvacationers wantingto visitwith
their balloon should realize how long a
drive itistoevengettoAlaska. And when
theyarrive,there’snoguaranteethe
weather will cooperate for a flight.
It’sreallyastupidplace tofly,”Klein
said. “We’re up here because it’s Alaska.
We’re notreallyhere because we want to
fly.”
Kleinandher husbandhave flown all
year,butlatelyhavesettledforMay
through September flying.
“Winterflyingcanbe wonderful, but
it’s also a real hassle, she said.
Summertimeflights arescheduled
just in the evenings. Sunrises, at 3 and 4
FromMay 16to July 27,thesun
doesn’t set, allowing legal, VFR flights
any time of day.
“It doesn’t get dark in the summer
and it doesn’t calm down until about 11
p.m., so you’re flying at midnight,” she
said. “There were times we’ve flown all
night, taking off at 11 p.m., refuel, and
take off again at 2 a.m. It literallydoesn’t
get dark.”
Midnightflightsposeinterestingland-
owner concerns, such as waking up the
neighbors.Whilemostpeoplearefriendly,
balloonsrepeatedlybuzzingthesame
house and making dogs bark when the
kids are sleeping puts a quick end to the
novelty.
“Itcanbe a nuisance for somepeople,
but a lot of them are up all night,” Klein
said. “People are gardening at 2 in the
morningand jogging.Summer issoshort,
people stay up and get the most out of it
that they can.”
Fairbanks offers 4 or 5 miles of open
areas to fly. Wildlife spotted on a typical
flightincludes moose, beaver, waterfowl,
bald eagles and an occasional bear.
There are no snakes in Alaska, but
you’d betterbe prepared forkiller-size
mosquitoes.
And there are plenty of challenges
remaining. Alaska balloonists don’t re-
call anyone ever flyingin the state capital
of Juneau, to thesouth. The cityisbuilton
thewater and sitsnexttosheermountains.
Some balloonistshaveattemptedfly-
ingover Mt. McKinley, North America’s
highest mountain at 20,380 feet.
“Thosetend tobackfire,”Klein said.
“I’m personally not into ordeals.”
Even so, Kleinand her husband have
flown out of some native villages, being
hauled across frozen lakes by a fleet of
snowmobiles.
Carol’s husband,Jack,is theonly
repair station in the state. No designated
examiners for balloons live in Alaska, so
applicants wanting a license must go to
another state.
In the ’80s, local pilots formed the
Alaska Air Mushers. The club held peri-
odicmeetingsand publisheda newsletter,
but died when the number of balloonists
dwindled.
“Therewasn’tanythingreallytokeep
itgoing,”Kleinsaid. “Wesaywe’re outof
it and proudof it. We have very poor
ballooning social skills.”
But that wasn’t always the case.
True balloonists,socializingand eat-
ing were important when more balloon-
istswere in Alaska.
“We’d meet at 9 or 9:30 a.m., eat
breakfast and do all the things you nor-
mallydidafterwards, then around 11a.m.
gofly for twoor three hours, flyover trees
and rivers and keep flying,” said Mike
Bauwens, who now lives in Utah. “Then
at 2:30 or so, you’d go party. But you
always had to know where you were and
always had to have a plan.”
Bauwens,a balloon dealer in Fair-
banks from 1976 to 1981, said he sold “a
ton of balloons”in those five years.
“Itwassucha noveltyandsucha neat
place to fly,” he said. “It wasn’t uncom-
mon tohave 100 to500 people atlanding.
It was the most incredible place I’ve ever
flown.”
Tim Cooksey, nowlivinginArizona,
said balloons wereallowed to landon
frozen lakes instate and national parks in
Alaska.
“Youcan fly inland onany lakes just
because there are so few roads,” he said.
“And therearesofewjusticesofthe
peace, Alaska allows commercial pilots
tomarry, so thatgave me the abilityto go
upandperform weddingsin the balloon.”
Allen Prier, who used to fly near his
home in Anchorage, said he hasn’t even
seena balloonaround Anchorageinnearly
a decade.
“It’ssad. I’ve got balloonpictures in
my bathroomI see every day. They re-
mind me of an end of an era. Itwasa good
time.”
none
Clubs:none
