Chapter 2

Winning The Balloon Flight

Ring. Ring. Ring. ‘Hi. I’m Sara, the balloon pilot. I have the latest weather report. The winds are okay. But there’s a ten percent chance we might have to cancel. Come anyway.’ Art pulled India and Mars Bar out of their sleeping bags. They’d slept over, so they’d be up in time.

‘Wait. I forgot something!’ Mars Bar came back, clutching two thin packages. ‘For later.’

In the 4am darkness, Art told Mum where to drive. ‘There’s the farm gate with the balloon picture. But where’s the balloon?’

‘There, ‘ India pointed down the track. A neatly packed balloon sat on the trailer in the farmyard. A small wicker basket was underneath. It was like a picnic basket with the top open. The pilot was waiting alongside. Sara waved.

Car headlights parked behind them. Two men got out. They joked VERY loudly. India was pleased to hear they were nervous too. The fat man wore a short sleeved T-shirt. On it was written BRANDS NAME SELLS. His camera bag was covered in BRANDS NAME SELLS stickers too.

‘Welcome Art,’ said the pilot. ‘You won the radio prize didn’t you? BALLOONFLY is a great name. We’ll use it soon. Got some warm socks? Gets cold up there. You and your friends will go on the flight with one of these gentlemen.’ Sara introduced them.

‘Why can’t we all go together?’ asked Mars Bar.

‘Only four plus the pilot fit in the basket at once.’ Sara looked at them closely. ‘There’ll be two flights.’

Another car was arriving. ‘She’s working out our weights.’ Art’s guess was right. ‘To balance the basket.’

‘Sure you’re okay, India?’ Art’s Mum knew India hated heights.

‘Got my birthday camera,’ said India. ‘Aunty gave it to me. She thought Art’s present of a flight was terrific. Even if my real birthday isn’t until tomorrow.’

‘Why is your Monster party tonight then?’ asked Mars Bar. ‘Only night my aunt can come,’ said India.

‘What if I throw up?’ Mars Bar clutched his thin packages. ’I got airsick once on a mountain bike.’

‘Make sure I’m not underneath,’ said India quickly.

‘People are often nervous at the beginning.’ Sara said ‘I’ll snooze in the car until you get back.’ Art’s Mum was shivering.

‘Then share your champagne breakfast, drop you at the zoo and race to work. How long’s the flight, Sara?’

‘About forty-five minutes. Depends upon the wind. Most people think we land back at the launching place. We don’t. We drive not fly back here.’

‘What about the passengers in the second flight?’ asked Mars Bar. ‘ They follow in the van. We swap over in a field.

Then the balloon takes off a second time.’ ‘Are we first?’ India watched the shivering Mr. Brand accept Mum’s offer of a car rug. He wrapped it around his shoulders. When a business card fell out of his pocket. Art picked it up. The card had pictures of houses, a butterfly shape and a long name.

‘Yes, Art, could you help undo the balloon?’ said Sara. ‘India, take that end.’

Mr. Brand just stood watching as the balloon was opened out. His friend was checking his map. ‘That’s the spot! Near the zoo!’

India enjoyed undoing the long strings like parachute cords. The mobile generator pumped air and the colourful balloon started to ‘grow’.

Noticing shivering Mars Bar, one of the crew offered a jacket. ‘Here, put this around your shoulders.’

‘I’m okay,’ protested Mars Bar, ‘Take it.’ So Mars Bar wrapped the jacket around his shoulders. One sleeve flapped. The generator was still whirring. Zak, the crew chief held open the cords linking the flat balloon to the basket. The basket was on its side. Whirring, the generator blew warm air quickly into the slack balloon shape.

‘Hey, look at that!’ Mr. Brand swung around.

The edge of the rug around his shoulders caught! Zing! A grinding noise. The rug caught in the whirring fan of the generator. It wrapped around one of the blades. The blade snapped. Plastic bits of fan shot out.

‘Look out!’ Art jumped.. A piece of fan just missed Mars Bar’s eye.

India acted. ‘Look out!’ Startled, the fat man jumped back, and India pulled him to safety. ‘

You were lucky,’ said Sara.

‘Nearly a one eyed footy fan, Mars Bar,’ said India. ‘

He’s that anyway.’ Art joked to cover their embarrassment.

‘I’ll fix it,’ said Sara quietly. ‘Tight fitting clothes are better here.’ Art noticed the crew wore tight track suits.

‘Dumb thing to do.’ Glad it wasn’t him; Mars Bar slid his arms through the empty sleeves of the borrowed jacket and zipped it up. Sara put in a new blade. She started up the motor again. Then she climbed into the basket, which was still on its side. Two crew lit the gas with a burst from the burners. The basket jerked upright with Sara inside.

Art liked the way she did things without fussing. ‘Come on.’

Mr. Brand got stuck and Sara hauled him in by his pants top. ‘Thanks,’ he puffed.

He straightened his glasses. Messing up the generator didn’t seem to worry him.

Mum’s ripped car-rug worried Art. She might be mad later. The basket carried five people standing, including the pilot. It also carried four gas bottles.

‘Take this,’ Sara handed a gas bottle to her crew on the ground.

‘Don’t we need all that gas?’ worried Mars Bar.

‘More room for passengers,’ smiled Sara. ‘During the changeover, we’ll take more on.’

‘SShh,’ India pushed Mars Bar. ‘It’s so Mr. Brand can fit.’

Zak put the gas bottle into the retrieval van. Corks littered the back of his van, Art noticed. Why did balloons need corks?

‘Will we be able to see out?’ India whispered.

The wicker basket was chest-high on the fat man. On the ground, his mate was still making loud jokes about ‘LAND ing’ and waving his map around. Mum was folding her car rug and frowning.

‘There’s a step,’ pointed Art to the hole in the wicker basket.

‘Sometimes kids peer out of the step hole.’ Sara pointed to the wicker step. ‘Jump in Art. Come on India.’

Taking a deep breath, India clambered in. Her new camera bumped against the side.

‘Careful.’ Sara gave instructions. ‘Hold onto the rope loop on the inside of the basket. Or hold onto the steel rim of the gas cylinder. Face the direction in which we’re landing. No arms outside the basket.’

‘We’ve got a lady driver, fellas!’ Mr. Brand’s middle wobbled as Mars Bar tumbled in, trying to find space beside him.

‘Not a problem Mr. Brand. I can fly aeroplanes, airships and balloons. I’ve also got a Civil Aviation Authority Instructor and examiner’s rating,’ said Sara quietly. ‘And you did say you wanted some close shots of the land.’

‘What about power lines?’ asked Mr. Brand. ‘And high rise flats? Lots of building in this area. I know all about that.’

If he knew so much, why did he have to tell everybody, thought India.

‘Balloonists know every power line. We plan to miss them all,’ replied Sara. Art looked up. Early morning sun lit the sponsors’ messages in red, blue and vivid yellow on the canopy. The balloon was a travelling ad.

‘No seat belts,’ whispered India. Inventing a car-seat-belt for Tiny was her next project. After horoscopes and the hot ice-cream scoop.

‘No parachutes,’ whispered Art. India wondered about dog-parachutes. How would Tiny know when to pull?

‘Who has a flight as a present?’ Sara fiddled with the ropes. India put up her hand.

‘Sometimes, the friend might be keen on the idea of flying but the birthday person mightn’t,‘ said Sara. ‘Is that so, Mr. Brand?’ The fat man nodded. ‘My company is paying’.

Art wondered what work he did.

‘Our balloon and van are always in radio contact. So you’re quite safe,’ shouted Zak. As the crew chief, he also drove the van.

‘Zak knows every local junction. From the road, he can see us.’ said Sara reassuringly. ‘Even when we’re over the zoo.’ ‘

We’re a bit big to miss.’ Art looked up. The colours stood out against the sky.

‘Maybe a good place for a Brands Name Sells ad.’ Mr. Brand looked up. ‘Let’s go!’ said Sara. The basket jerked and they were off.