Ballooning Over Boulder
By Ty Wyant

Just past 6 a.m. in northeast Boulder, the orange dawn sky hosts a few peaceful clouds. It looks like an ideal morning to launch bright-colored hot-air balloons toward the sun’s first rays. But the still air can’t even sway a party balloon standing straight up from its mooring on the mirror of a pickup truck. Five hot-air balloon crews contemplating launching their craft take note of the calm conditions.

“High-tech gear,” quips a coffee-sipping crew member . It sounds like a well-worn line.

Once a balloon is airborne, it is at the wind’s mercy and must land before the propane fuel runs out. Therefore, the pilot must be confident when he leaves the ground that there will be acceptable flying weather.

“Taking off is optional. Landing is not,” says veteran Boulder-based hot-air balloon pilot Mark Grylicki, owner and operator of Air Boulder, a balloon that holds 77,000 cubic feet of propane-seared air and can carry up to three people. Since 1990, when Grylicki started his business, Boulder-based ballooning has grown from just a couple local balloons to up to 10 balloons at a time launching from Gunbarrel.

Then the early morning quiet is pierced by the shrieking howl of the balloons’ propane burners roaring to life. Balloons lying on the damp grass like giant nylon beach blankets begin to fill with air, gaining their enormous beach-ball shapes. After the heated air stands the balloons erect, the passengers board over the side of the wicker baskets. There is no panic, no trepidation, just a peaceful anticipation of a memorable morning.

With a long blast from the propane burner, your balloon slowly lifts skyward. From the balloonist’s perspective, people, trees and buildings diminish in size. There is no sound from the wind, since the balloon moves with the wind. Even from a height of over 1,000 feet, you can easily hear meadowlarks singing in the pastures below.

The flight feels stable and secure. Every system on the balloon has at least one back-up system, so if one system proves troublesome another system quickly takes over.

Rising over the Longmont Diagonal, Boulder County has a different look, even for a 40-year resident. Lakes abound near Boulder Creek, the Denver skyline can be seen through morning’s haze and the Continental Divide appears surprisingly close. The county’s growth is confirmed by new suburban houses with manicured bluegrass yards abutting open prairie pockmarked with prairie-dog towns.

When another balloon at a lower altitude moves toward your balloon, it is easy to see why piloting a balloon is a fusion of training, experience and feel. “I have exact up-and-down control but no directional control, so I move the balloon up and down looking for a variance in wind direction,” Grylicki says. “A balloon is at the mercy of the wind, so every flight and every landing is different.”

Since landing is mandatory, looking for an acceptable landing spot is critical. Drifting toward Niwot, the balloon moves at the pace of a leisurely dog walk. This slow speed helps ensure the softest of landings.

As the balloon descends, the occasional burst from the burner informs residents below of its approach. People in casual Sunday-morning garb pop out of their homes and crane upward. Spotting the balloon, they point at it, often showing it to a curious, then smiling, child. Kids race toward the balloon’s expected landing site, chasing the air-filled Pied Piper.

The balloon descends to treetop level and moves peacefully over an open area. As air exits through the balloon’s vent, the large craft touches the ground so softly that landing must be confirmed by looking to see if the balloon is, indeed, resting on the grass.

The enthralled children quickly surround the balloon, and some climb aboard for a short tethered ride. The others stare at the balloon, perhaps dreaming that one day they may fly into the morning sky of Boulder County.

Go to top