SANTA FE to GRAND CANYON

[Click on a pic to enlarge] It's a short drive from ABQ to Santa Fe, about an hour at our speed, but we were glad to get an early start as the weather was turning sour and rain was on the way. Nothing much to see along the way, and we cruised at our save-the-gas speed of 55mph. We've started to get in the high 10's, so it seems that dropping the speed has gained us 1mpg. Or 10% better if that sounds more impressive. Under darkening skies we mosied into Santa Fe and began looking for the two RV parks we had identified from AAA's book (internet and cable being the prime requisites, given that we were going to hibernate through the bad weather). The one we preferred, of course, was on the other side of a divided six lane street, necessitating a U-turn, but that's why we like the 23 ft model -- no drama in such maneuvers. Alas (I had stronger words), the park had a small "no vacancy" sign, so we continued on to find the other. It, naturally, was on the side that we had just vacated, so another Uey and . . . where the *&%$)* is their sign? A virtually unmarked entrance was not a good sign (pun intended), but it turned out to be ok. Not as nice as the first, but at least it had space. We hooked up to power and cable, turned on the heat and tv, and settled down to Saturday college football while the rain started falling. The internet worked sporadically, and I ended up poaching a signal from the Ramada Inn next door. Popped some popcorn, hit the couch, and all was well.

Sunday dawned chilly, overcast, and breezy, so we opted for the local bus line to take us the three or so miles to downtown. Santa Fe's attraction needs no explaining to those who have been there, but for youse rest, it's a great walking town as virtually everything is focused on the old square and the surrounding five blocks or so in all directions. Pueblo style construction, narrow streets, tons of shops and restaurants, the cathedral, the old government building, and the Native Americans selling their jewelry on blankets around the square. The action used to be confined to the square when I was last here 30-odd years ago, but it has bulged out to all the neighboring streets. We opted not to pay the fee to see the world's strangest staircase (no visible fasteners), but did take in a couple of museums and virtually every gallery and shop. Kudos to Loni: no purchases! Saw some things I definitely would buy if we were in a much higher tax bracket: a unique pot with braided snakes around the rim, and a turquoise turtle broach that was dazzling. Sigh. Another life. We opted for lunch at the historic (official register) La Fonda Hotel in their main atrium restaurant. Unlike most hotel eateries, this was great. Nice ambiance, and terrific, giggle-while-you-eat food. We asked another diner to take our picture and he obliged. Turns out photography is his avocation, and he uses his work to make stationary cards. [Postscript: he actually mailed us some which were waiting for us when we got home. Quite nice.] The only problem was that he moved the camera when he took the shot, and it was badly blurred. Oh well. I took this one of Loni, but without the good backdrop.

On Monday we unloaded the scoot and suited up for a chilly ride to Los Alamos to see where the A-bomb started and the Bradbury Museum which traces the history. Los Alamos is really isolated, and must have been even moreso back in the '40s. It sits on a series of finger mesas surrounded by deep gorges. The scoot climbed well, but we were both pretty cold by the time we got there. The museum wouldn't open for another hour, so we perused the adjacent bookstore, which was loaded with science stuff as well as books. I spotted a 1,000 page volume of the complete short stories of Arthur C. Clarke, in chronogical order, and couldn't resist it. I'm up to the late '40's. The museum was excellent and we recommend it highly. I'm posing here next to models of "Fat Man" and "Little Boy," the two bombs dropped on Japan. The presentations here were pretty balanced, with the negatives all set out as well as the pros. One neat display (this is a general science museum as well) had you answer ten questions (on a computer) about your physical characteristics (eg, eye color, whether one of your fingers is longer than another (I forget which), etc.), then it matches these inherited traits against those that have been inputted by previous visitors to the museum. I, apparently, am a mass of recessive genes, as my pattern matched only 62 out of 59,000+ visitors. Loni matched 360.

After the museum we had a late lunch at one of the few spots open (ok, but nothing to write about), saddled up and took off for Bandelier National Monument. This is located at the bottom of a steep, narrow canyon, very impressive from both top and bottom, and contains both pueblo and cliff dwellings that are very accessible. It was 4:30 when we got there, and it closed at 6:00, so we only had a whirlwind tour. I would spend at least half a day here if we had the opportunity. It was active with tourists when we got there, but not crowded. Apparently, it gets absolutely choked in the summer, to the point where they have to shut down access until enough people leave. The dwellings here date back to 1150 or so. These aren't virtually inaccessible, like those in Mesa Verde or Canyon de Chelly, so they must have been harder to defend, although there doesn't seem to be any evidence of warfare. Saw another LazyDaze in the parking lot, but no one was around. After our quick tour, we headed back down the hill to Santa Fe. Tuesday dumped more rain and wind, so we opted to stay put for another day, and lazed about reading.

Next on the list was Taos, and it felt like we climbed the whole way. Once there, we were entirely unimpressed. The Taos square is rather small, not at all rustic, and a letdown after Santa Fe. Didn't seem to be much else about the town that bore investigating, so we cruised in and cruised out. Our real goal was to take the Enchanted Circle Scenic Byway, an 84-mile drive that loops from Taos east to Eagle Nest, north to Questa, and then south again. This was a beautiful drive, with spectacular mountain and valley views all along it. We stopped for lunch along the roadside and found that the Texans (Tessa, perhaps?) had left their mark. After the loop, we headed west on US64 and crossed the Rio Grande Gorge bridge, three miles long and 650 feet above the river. We got out and walked to the middle. The shaking when the trucks went by did not promote confidence, and we were glad to get back to solid ground. 64 continues through the Carson National Forest, and is another scenic drive all the way. We ended the day at Heron Lake State Park near Tierra Amarilla. The campground had no view of the lake, but when we saw it coming in and going out it was a very pretty one, but you'd have to have a boat to enjoy it. Uneventful night and extremely quiet. We seem to have been camping within earshot of trains for the last couple of weeks, and it was wierd not to hear them at night.

The next day was a fairly long haul to Canyon de Chelly (that's pronounced "Shay") National Monument, through such dreary spots as Farmington, Shiprock, and Mexican Water. This is "just keep driving" land, and we did. We skipped Chaco Canyon as the road was reported by other LDers to be ten miles of 5mph washboard. Not my idea of a good time, no matter how nice the park might be. The last stretch to C-de-C was quite beautiful, with dramatic rocks and vistas. Chelly is a National Monument, but is entirely on Indian land, so it is jointly administered. As a result, the campground (no hookups) is entirely free. It was not bad at all, with good-sized, well-spaced sites that were level. Besides, we needed a break from having the amenities (and paying the price for them). We had fun with time, as Arizona does not observe daylight savings, while the reservation does. I don't know how they keep things straight. Canyon de Chelly, like Bryce, is a travel-the-rim-and-look-down-in type of place. Canyon floor, with one exception, is off-limits to tourists unless accompanied by a native guide or a ranger. There actually are two canyons, 26-mile de Chelly and 25-mile del Muerto, and we toured one in the morning and the other in the afternoon, following the photographic advice for the best lighting for each. There are a number of overlooks that you stop at along each rim road, and each does provide quite different views of the canyon, which twists and turns. It's about 600 to 1,000 feet deep with sheer walls, and the dwellings seem to be in impossible places way up the cliffsides. You'd have to be very afraid of something to put up with the difficulty and danger of daily ingress and egress to those sites. How they built homes up there is utterly incredible. These were much higher than any we saw at Mesa Verde. You are allowed to climb down into the canyon at only one spot, the "White House" dwelling site. We watered up and made the trek down, down, down, across the canyon to the other side to where it's located, then the haul back up. It actually felt good after so many days driving. Having done that, I can't see much value in paying for a jeep tour (the principal stop of which is the White House), but there are a lot of folks, I guess, who can't or won't hike. There were some nice pictographs, which we could see well through the binocs, but which didn't come out clearly in the photos. The scoot was a big attraction at the overlook stops, and we answered lots of questions about touring on it.

After Chelly we went south on 371 to I-40 (which only reminded us why we try to avoid the Interstates: racing trucks and boring scenery), then west to Winslow, another garden spot. On the way we stopped at the Petrified Forest/Painted Desert. It was nice to see these, but I wouldn't rank them as must-sees. The Painted Desert would have been much more colorful at dawn or dusk with the low light, but it was pretty blah at high noon. Bad timing. the Petrified Forest was interesting only at the major southern entrance, the Rainbow Forest, where they have entire petrified trees instead of only pieces. We thought the coloring was not as good as the petrified area we saw in Utah. So, a nice detour, but nothing memorable. At Winslow we jumped off the interstate and took SR 87 southwest, through Clints Well, then 280 over to Cottonwood, where we stayed two nights at a decent, if small, RV park. This was almost entirely occupied by long-termers, and it was interesting to watch the families bundling the kids off to school in the morning. Mostly 5th wheels and trailers. We saw only one other class C and a couple of A's.

Cottonwood was our homebase for Sedona. We took a reconnaissance trip that afternoon, 19 miles to Sedona on the scoot. Nice ride. Sedona is truly beautiful, with red-orange hills shouldering right into the town. In the Fall afternoon light it simply glowed. We stopped near the Visitor Center, which had just closed for the day, and wandered around. Turns out this was the first day of a week-long plein-aire art festival, and various artists had their easels set up around town, painting the local scenery, with tourist gawkers clustered around each. We watched a few and then wandered the galleries in that area. The paintings here were better on the whole than we saw in Santa Fe. We were looking for the work of two artists that we first met (and bought) 35 years ago on the old Santa Monica Mall and at the Westwood art show, Tommy Lorimer and Lisa Danielle, then married but since split (still friends). Couldn't locate them this day, so we got on the scoot and headed back to Cottonwood for dinner. The next day we got an earlier start and went to the main gallery area called "Tlaquepaque." This is a series of buildings, courtyards, and paths that is quite pleasant to stroll around. We found a gallery that featured Lisa's works, which are now commanding a pretty penny that is well out of our range, but still no Thomas, and no one had heard of him. The gallery folks were also surprised to hear she had an ex. Hope we didn't tell tales out of school. At one gallery we walked into a room and we both were simultaneously struck by a painting that was unlike anything we usually gravitate to, as it was impressionistic. We thought for a long while about buying it, but I suggested we go out and cool off and come back later. Went to an ice cream shop and had a malt, always a good cooler-offer. We decided that we could live without it (whew). We checked a phone directory, found a listing for Thomas, gave a call and left a message on his machine. Time for an early dinner as the ice cream was our lunch. Picassa's Pizza had a good description in a writeup, so we went there and weren't disappointed. We split a medium, with half-and-half exotic toppings, and were happy campers. Midway through the meal, Thomas called, we reintroduced ourselves, and he invited us over (only 3 blocks away). He graciously spent a couple of hours with us, showing us his studio and his collection of western and indian artifacts, including museum-quality pieces. We know that to be the case, as we've traipsed through all sorts of them. The impressive thing is that he explored for and found most of what we saw, and they were wonderful objects. His house is jamb-packed with things that left us dazzled. He had no finished works, but was active on a couple. Everything he paints gets shipped out to Western-themed art shows, which is why he had nothing in the galleries in town. We were very happy to reconnect with him after a long time (we had seen him about ten years ago in San Dimas). Wish we could afford his work today, but will be happy with what we have from his early years. We also admired his six vehicles, including a beautifully restored '42 Ford that he works on when he's not painting. It was pitch dark when we left, but the scoot ride back was uneventful.

Leaving Sedona we traveled through the Oak Creek Canyon on the way to Flagstaff, the gateway to the South Rim. This is a beautiful canyon, but very twisty. Look closely at the photo of the road I posted and you can see three elevations of it, one above the other. Once again I'm glad we're "only" 23' long in those hairpins. The shot of Loni is taken looking back down the canyon we just navigated, towards Sedona.

After a brief, unplanned detour through the University of Northern Arizona campus (thanks to the distaff navigator), we gassed up and headed out of the city. Just north of Flagstaff is the Museum of Northern Arizona and across from that is an annex in an old house. Tommy told us that he had consigned his most recent painting here, so we stopped for a look. It was a beauty, but the $5,500 price tag ended any yearnings we had. We'll stick with what we have.

Route 180 out of Flagstaff is much more scenic than the alternative 64 that goes up from Williams. Nice drive, but it's always much farther than I think (about 90 miles) to get to Grand Canyon Village. We had no problems getting a spot in "Trailer Village," which was located within walking distance of the shuttles and the headquarters. Once settled, we took the scoot on a tour of the surroundings and saw the steam train from Williams (Grand Canyon Railway, complete with "bandit holdups" and all) pull into the station at the El Tovar hotel. Checked out the hotel and made plans to come back one day for lunch in the main dining room ('30's CCC architecture of stone and beams-- love it!). Back to the rig for dinner and a DVD.

The next morning we got up at o-dark-thirty and froze our way over to the shuttles for the trip to the start of the Kaibab trailhead for a ranger-led hike down into the canyon. There we met a half-dozen other folks who were trying to stay warm until the sun could get high enough to do some good. As it turns out, it never went above 50 all day, but that was a good thing when you're trying to hike back out. Unfortunately, we had plenty of wind in certain areas which made for exciting scampering over the rocks. Didn't want to become a human glider. The ranger took us down about a mile, all the while giving us an excellent summary of the history of the canyon, rock strata ages, flora and fauna. We highly recommend joining these walks as you get so much more out of the hike when you understand what you're looking at. The ranger-portion of the walk ended at Cedar Ridge, which was quite windy but offered some great views. I wanted to go a bit further and, after a bit of "encouragement," Loni did as well. We descended down to Windy Ridge, aptly named, but with a view of Phantom Ranch (about 2,000 feet below) along the river. Very cool spot. In all we went down a little over 2,000 feet in the space of two+ miles. That was the easy part; climbing back out was a bit tougher. At one point we had to make way for a horse train to pass carrying (!) dudes who had spent the night at Phantom Ranch and were being hauled to the top. Hmmmm. We got to enjoy the horse plops the rest of the way. Near the top we were overtaken by the mule pack train that carries all the supplies down to the ranch --- every day! I can't imagine making that round trip day after day. We dragged ourselves back to the rim and it was a VERY nice ride back on the shuttle.

The next day we walked around the rim trail from Yaki Point to Maricopa Point, and took a shot of the lodge buildings on the opposite side. Then off to the El Tovar for an excellent lunch of a blue cheese steakburger and a decadent dessert. You only live once. The atmosphere of the dining room was great and we highly recommend having at least one meal there when visiting the park. It's a trip to the past.

After this it was time to head home. We headed west on I-40 and stopped for the night at a casino RV lot south of Bullhead City. Decent enough buffet dinner, but nothing to write home about, and a little off-putting to see morbidly obese families piling on incredible amounts of food over and over again. Took in a movie, avoided the tables and machines, and called it a night. Yup, geezers for sure. Next morning we pulled out an had an uneventful drive home to two months' mail and our sticks home. A great trip!

BALLOONS

[CLICK ON PICS TO ENLARGE]
Having worn out our welcome in Carlsbad, we left Brantley State Park and motored north about 70 miles to Roswell to visit the UFO museum. Ah, America. When we arrived we found the main street blocked off and a parade underway to celebrate the opening of the Eastern NM State Fair. Well, we couldn’t miss that so we pulled into a grocery store parking lot and watched the parade in all its small town glory. Love this stuff. We located an RV park close to the fairgrounds and elected to walk to the fair instead of scooting. Hmmm. Could have sworn it was closer on the map. Almost two miles, which wasn’t so bad in the twilight going over, but was an adventure in the pitch-black countryside at night. Did I mention before that drinking and driving is a New Mexican pastime? We got way off the road and walked in a ditch (dry). The fair was your typical agricultural community affair, with animal judging (we watched the goats, and were amazed the judge could detect differences in what appeared to be generic animals), baked goods, crafts, thrill rides, an old-time midway with (gasp) two-headed animals, and all the kettle corn, funnel cakes, and fried twinkies (and other things) you could want. Brought back memories of the county fairs we had in the Central Valley, and was all good. We saved the UFO museum for the next day. If you’re here anyway, it’s a must see, but otherwise it’s a humorous aside the lack of which won’t diminish your life. They actually try to play it straight, giving both sides of the “story.” When all is said and done, we all know the government couldn’t keep such a thing secret for all these years, but you have to wonder just what they WERE trying to cover up.
We next headed west on I-70 and climbed into the mountains through Ruidoso, home of the famed quarterhorse track, and which has to be the longest, skinniest town we’ve ever been through. It goes for miles along one road, and not more than a block to either side. Definitely tourist oriented, with scads of shops and restaurants. We went on a little higher to the appropriately named town of Alto and spent the night in one of the nicest commercial parks we’ve seen. Beautiful grounds and surroundings, and even had working wifi, so we caught up on emails although I didn’t get anything posted to the blog. Great hot showers and a laundry, both of which we took advantage of. Because we want to conserve our water and propane, and because it gets a little chilly in the rig in the mornings, we mostly do sponge baths with the occasional full-blown shower, but take advantage of the local facilities whenever available. Surprisingly, many of the state parks in AZ and NM offer hot showers. Too bad CA is so screwed up.
Our next stop was to be a gathering of the Southwest Lazy Daze group at Manzano State Park in the Manzano Mountains south of Albuquerque. We decided to take the back roads, so after descending onto the plains we took US54 north to SR55, the latter of which zigzag across the terrain. Two lanes, no shoulder, nothing but range land all around. We saw herds of antelope along the way, and not a single car for the first 30 minutes. Ford, don’t fail me now! The last quarter mile to the Manzano park, unfortunately, was dirt, and the dust we kicked up coated everything, especially the scooter, even though it was covered. The bottom is still open and the dust just swirls up and coats it. The park is up in the pines elevation, quite nice and dead quiet at night. There were 11 other LD rigs there, and we met some very nice folks from all over (Florida to San Diego). Like us, the distant travelers were just passing through on the way to ABQ. Had a nice pot luck dinner, which I dragged my camera out for, set it down on the ground while eating, and promptly . . . yup, forgot it. We left the next morning (Thursday), after dumping tanks and filling with water as we would be staying in a field for the balloon fest. We navigated ABQ traffic ok, with no thanks to the signage. My only gripe about NM is that it is horribly signed. There’s a lot of guessing about what street you’re encountering (or passing). On arrival, we were met by ten or so early LD arrivals and settled in. The parking is just a huge dirt field with nary a blade of grass in sight. By the middle of the week, it was filled with thousands of RVs of all shapes and sizes, and a few hearty souls in tents. We got primo location, close to the entrance, and spaces for the 34 LD rigs that had signed up. After leveling up the front, we went out and communed with the others, including the amazing Texan, Tessa, and her three kids. She and the kids took off in their LD, “Ciao Baby”, at the beginning of the summer, and have traveled all over the West, hitting every national park and monument from Texas to Alaska, and were on their way back home for a brief break before continuing on through Central America to Panama. Dear Dad stays home and makes the wherewithal to finance this adventure. The kids are home schooled, display maturity well beyond their years, and manners that leave you shaking your head in admiration. After Panama, they will ship the LD to Europe where they will tour all around before storing it there as their future European pied-a-terre. From there they will fly to China before returning home. Wow. My family went to the seashore.
Friday we set off to sign up on a chase crew. The cognoscenti told us that you only had to work it once, but that earned you a pass to all of the events for the entire week. Since each entry costs $6 , and there were morning and evening events, this is a great deal. We went to the registration, told them which day we wanted to work, and they assign you to a pilot who has need of crew that day. Volunteer crew are important as it takes a certain number of bodies to launch and retrieve, and with nearly 700 balloons lifting off in the space of an hour, that’s a lot of manpower needed. We got assigned to “Flying Colors” out of Colorado, piloted by Marv McKinny. We got our free passes, watched a 30 minute video on what not to do (no nylon clothes as they can set off a spark, don’t cut any range fences to get to the balloon, never stand in front of the basket when it is taking off, etc.), and pronounced ourselves ready to commit mayhem. Next we hit the Anderson (Maxie)-Abruso (Ben) Albuquerque International Balloon Museum, which is another must-see. The history of ballooning from the Montgolfiers to the namesake guys, and utterly fascinating. Great docents with interesting stories and very nicely done displays and artifacts. Our appetites were whetted for the big show, the first mass ascension set for Saturday morning. But first, the other appetite was sated by another potluck that evening. I will say that the LDers put on a good spread wherever they are.
All balloon ascensions are made when the


winds are non-existent or light, generally not to exceed 10mph. For the Fiesta, that means EARLY morning. Although we weren’t scheduled to crew until Monday, we wanted to see how it was done so we got up at 0-dark 30 (I think that’s 4:30) to have breakfast, dress in about nine layers, and walk to the staging area.


Even at that hour the traffic was pouring into the parking area. The forecast for Sunday the next ascension) was rain, so everyone local who couldn’t take off during the week wanted to be there for this liftoff. The field itself was dark, with rows of numbered cones with tiny blue lights on top to mark the areas where each balloon was to set up. We found B-6, which is where our pilot was assigned. His truck and gear were there, but no bodies. Seems like the pilot gets to go off and have breakfast and briefings while his crew stands around in the dark. He must have had experienced crew that day because we waited alone for quite awhile before they showed up.
The routine is this. First you unload the big fan, then the envelope (balloon, for you novices), and finally the basket. The envelope is in a big round bag about three to four feet across and three feet high. The bottom of the envelope comes out first, and while someone holds that, the rest of the crew heft up the bag (about 300 pounds) and walk it away with the envelope trailing out. Once that is stretched out, the pilot and his crew chief start untangling the wires that connect the envelope to the basket, and get those hooked up. The basket at this time is on its side, with the top facing the envelope. The burners are then attached to the top of the harp that forms the “handle” of the basket. The baskets are all wicker as it is both strong and flexible (for those bumpy landings), as well as traditional, dating back to the Montgolfiers. Inside are three or more big propane tanks, about twice the size of dive tanks used by scubas. Once everything is attached to the basket (including instruments for altitude, envelope temperature, etc), the mouth of the envelope is held open by two crew while the big fan is wheeled up close. The fan is used for the initial inflation and puts out a hurricane of air. It is aimed into the mouth, and the envelope slowly begins to swell and straighten out. The crew scurries around pulling on the fabric to help it inflate. Once it actually looks like a balloon on its side, it’s time to light the burners and shoot flames into the mouth. At this point, the two crew who have been holding it open for the fan



lengthen their grip on the ropes so they aren’t too close to the flames. Crispy critter warning. The fan is turned off and the hot air shooting in begins to enlarge the balloon. It slowly rises to upright, being held more or less steady during the process by a crewman holding a long rope that extends from the crown of the balloon down to the ground. The bigger balloons require more than one person doing this, and if there’s a breeze it can be a challenge. Once the balloon is upright, the pilot can keep it that way by periodic bursts of flame, without lifting off. Now, imagine this taking place on a field with 600+ other balloons. The sight and sounds are incredible. Brilliant colors, huge shapes without weight, dragonbreath sounds. The field is controlled by “zebras,” men and women wearing referee outfits who determine the order and timing of each launch. When the zebra says it is ok for you to lift off, the pilot loads his passenger(s) (ours could take only one), and gives out with a long flame burst until he achieves buoyancy. The crew then hangs on to the side of the basket and walks the balloon forward while the flaming continues, and then all of a sudden it just floats up and away, pilot and passenger grinning like fools, and the crew gazing wistfully up. Although we crewed three days, we didn’t get a ride as the pilot’s sponsor showed up and his people got to go. Commercial rides were being offered at the Fiesta premium pricing of $350. Nah. I can do without.
Once launched, the crew piles into the truck, with the machos in the bed and the ladies in the cab, and take off, trying to follow your balloon amongst all the
others. For the most part, that’s not too hard, as balloons are virtually all unique in their colors and patterns. Some are pretty close, but it wasn’t difficult picking our guy out. The pilot and crew chief also are in communication by radio, but they have to keep the transmissions brief because of the sheer numbers of participants and limited bandwidth. Our first chase ended before it began, as our pilot decided not to launch because of the speed and direction of the winds. As it turns out, most of the local pilots, and many of the old hands from out of state, made the same decision. The ones that did ascend took off like a shot to the southwest, which is towards ABQ proper. Not a lot of landing places down there.



There were quite a bit of hard and distant landings. Our second shot was more successful, and the balloon took off towards the northwest. Turns out he had fun and skimmed the Rio Grande while we were trying to keep him in sight. We ended up about 8 miles away from the launch, and he came down in the wilds of Rio Rancho. We had to bounce over dirt paths and then over the desert in order to get to him. The landing was a bit rough and the basket bounced and dragged for quite a ways (we saw the gouge marks across the desert). Of course, there were the obligatory prickly pear cactus and cholla at the landing site, so we were picking those out of things for quite a while after. The packup is just the reverse of the launch procedure. After squeezing the envelope to expel the hot air, you form a chain and start stuffing it into the bag, starting with the top. The bag is lifted after each stuff and is walked up the envelope a couple of feet for the next stuff. After it’s all in, everyone sits on it to expel the last of the air before pulling the drawstrings on the bag to tie it up. The truck, fortunately, has a lift gate, so we could heft these things onto it without multiple hernias all around. Still, many hands are needed as both the bag and the basket are bulky and heavy.
We then return to the launch site, set up a canopy and chairs, and break out the munchies and bubbly, talk, and watch the antics of the other crews who seem to prefer stronger drink. Our second launch was much like the first, only this time he came down in the sticks on a hillside. He kept it upright until we could reach him, and then achieved just enough buoyancy so that we could walk him down the hill to a dirt road for the deflation. This would have been easier without the aforementioned prickly pear getting underfoot. Ouch. On Friday, we opted not to crew (Marv had enough help) and instead watched the competition portion. The balloons launch from a remote site upwind of the main field and try to maneuver right over the field to do a couple of things. First, they have weighted streamers that they want to drop closest to a pin flag set in a marked circle. Second, they want to grab a key bag from the top of a thirty foot pole (there were multiple drop “greens” and five poles) as they float past. This requires low level maneuvering, and if your basket touches the ground you are disqualified. There were lots of accurate drops (well, throws in some cases) and amazingly two balloons picked off keys and three had them but dropped them. The keys fit various cars that were offered by sponsors. We were told that this is about 10% skill and 90% luck-of-the-winds, but it was a hoot to watch.
Tragedy struck the Fiesta this year as one balloon got swept into power lines. The basket exploded and both pilots were ejected at about 30 feet above ground. One was dead from his burns before the safety folks got to him, the other is still alive and expected to survive. More bad news followed as high winds and rain caused the cancellation of all flights on the final Saturday and Sunday of the event. We were very glad we got there for the whole 10 days and were able to see multiple ascensions. The late arrivals got shut out.
On Wednesday, we got the scooter in for its initial and mandatory 600 mile service
whre they take out the break-in oil, retorque everything, etc. It has performed like a champ. We do our grocery shopping and laundry runs on it. Thursday afternoon (the 9th) we set out for the top of the Sandia Mountains behind ABQ. That’s an elevation gain of over 3,000 feet (to 8,000+) and it pulled all the way without a hitch. I did have the throttle maxed a few times, but we didn’t hold up any traffic. We were looking for the restaurant at the top of the peak, since it was Loni’s birthday, but we never found the right side road or saw any sign (thanks again, NM). We did make the crest and had a fabulous 360 degree view. However, the wind was blowing up there and it was COLD, so we packed off for ABQ and an alternate dinner site. Having been frustrated by not finding the peak restaurant, we took the recommendations of LD-ers from previous nights and went for a marguerita at Sadie’s, a long-time local favorite. Well, the drinks WERE good and large to boot, but the food was aimed more at mass quantity for your buck rather than innovation. We had hoped for something sophisticated, but this wasn’t it. We got two HUGE chicken burritos, finished half, and took home another meal. We left at about 7:45 and got to within a mile of our campground when we were stopped by a police barricade that had just been put up (we were the first to be stopped). That's Loni sitting on the scoot with her night vest reflecting. Seems that the traffic control scheme for the night presentations at the balloon park (which we were camped directly opposite) called for a shutdown of the only road we could take to access our lot, in order that all traffic exiting the Fiesta could use all lanes as outbound lanes. The nice sheriff (and, truly, he was a very nice guy) apologized profusely but said we’d have to wait at least an hour and a half before it could open. This, truly, was the capper for Loni’s birthday. No peak restaurant, mediocre food, tired from scooting all day in the wind, and now consigned to a curb for the duration. I knew I was going to have to make up for this! We spent the time talking to the officer and listening along with him to Vin Sculley broadcast the Dodgers-Phillies game (LA lost) on a radio he had in his trunk. Seems he’s a big-time Dodger fan from the days when they had their farm team, the Dukes, in ABQ. They’ve been elsewhere for the last decade of so, but have again re-signed with ABQ, only now the team is called (are you ready?) the Isotopes, “Topes” for short. See, there’s this nuclear history in the area and, oh well. So, not quite two hours later, we are given the honor of being the first through and we motored back to collapse in bed.
The night show is not a launch, but rather a light show where the inflated, but tethered balloons light off their burners and the balloons glow from inside. It’s
pretty neat, and we had seen it on a previous night. Everything is followed by a big fireworks show to cap off the evening.
At the launch grounds they have a quarter mile of tents selling souvenirs, godawful food (see previous comments on the Fair) and not much else. However, I will say that the giant cinnamon buns were A-OK, and I did avail myself of the free samples of mini Spamburgers. Shameless. They also had a chainsaw woodcarving contest which I have to say produced some pretty remarkable results. They were being auctioned off for charity and the one we watched fetched $6,000 in some spirited bidding. We settled for a couple of “chase crew” pins and a balloon spinner to hang off the rig when we’re parked.
With the rain forecast, and us sitting on dirt in the midst of thousands of RV’s, all of which had to exit through one portal, we opted to bag out early and left Saturday morning for Santa Fe.