EXETER — Elva McBride’s kids gave her the gift of a dream.
On a trip to the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta in New Mexico last October, Elva and her friend Doris Hall explored the possibility of taking a balloon ride. Elva “just always wanted to” ride in a hot air balloon, she says.
The cost during the Fiesta was prohibitive, so Elva delayed her dream.
Elva is a lifelong adventurer. She’s visited Canada and seven European countries. When she wants to see more of the United States, she gets in her car and goes.
“I’ve been to all 50 states,” she says, “and I would come back to Nebraska any day of the week.”
For Elva’s eighty-first birthday this year, her children gave her the perfect gift: an hour-long ride with Nebraska balloon pilot Rich Jaworski, of Euphoria Balloons in Blair.
Jaworski, a world record holder for flight duration, impressed both women with his skill and his professionalism. “That man is very precise,” Doris says. “He really knows what he’s doing.”
Doris jumped at the chance to come with her friend.
Bad weather delayed their flight a couple of times, but on the evening of June 3 flying conditions were just right. They met Jaworski in Springfield, Nebr., south of Omaha, at the Sarpy County Fairgrounds. As advised, both women wore long sleeves against the chill and felt comfortable throughout.
Doris and Elva hopped into the basket of the red and white “Euphoria” with Jaworski and a mother and daughter pair from Omaha. Doris’s sons, Wade and Warren, and Elva’s daughter, Yvonne Austin, came along to watch. Jaworski also had two balloon chasers on the ground, following in their vehicle.
Elva and Doris marvel at how smoothly the balloon rose. Neither woman had a sensation of rising. The balloon ascended to about 700 feet, then Jaworski brought it back down to keep it between 200 and 300 feet, “To see better,” Elva explains.
The treetops felt very close, they recall.
Winds took them in a southerly direction. The balloon flew over corn fields, pastures and country roads. Elva and Doris appreciated their unique perspective on familiar countryside, but they were most impressed by the utter silence of the flight.
There was no sound of rushing wind, Elva says, because they were moving with it. Except for an occasional airy blast noise from the propane tanks as Jaworski adjusted the balloon’s altitude, no mechanical noises intruded on their experience.
They watched deer on the ground below, never alerted to their silent flight overhead. They moved soundlessly above a train winding on its track. Along the Platte River, they flew above a dead tree that was home to half a dozen herons’ nests without disturbing any occupants.
“Peaceful,” both women repeat, describing the experience. “Relaxing.”
Sounds from the earth rose to them clearly. They could hear dogs barking and cows mooing, and car tires crunching on gravel roads. As they floated above a baseball diamond in Louisville, “the kids were hollerin’ and waving,” Doris says.
Jaworski kept in radio contact with his ground crew throughout the flight, so all of the chasers were prepared to meet the balloon where it touched down near Manley. The women said Jaworski chooses his landing sites carefully, seeking out very low ground cover like alfalfa or harvested wheat, and avoiding livestock.
He gave instructions on how to hang on, and told them to expect a gentle bounce. With the sun’s rays growing longer, he brought the balloon down in an alfalfa field. It bounced once, as predicted, but on the second landing, a rogue wind caught the deflating balloon, and “we just went a-scootin’ across the field,” Elva says.
Their vertical flight was suddenly made horizontal. Jaworski’s chasers made a grab for the balloon, but the wind carried it swiftly away. The ground crew ran after it.
“We were piled one atop the other,” Doris says.
The basket dragged through the alfalfa and then, with everyone still in it, was pulled roughly down a draw, where it hit a creek bed and flipped onto one side. Elva, who had changed her grip to move out of Jaworski’s way as he fought to bring the balloon under control, bruised her shoulder on a propane tank.
“I just giggled and carried on,” Elva says. “I couldn’t help it; I thought it was funny.”
In a ceremony that followed, the riders knelt as if to kiss the ground, and Jaworski poured a little “champagne” over their heads. Everyone helped repack the balloon into a carrying sack smaller than some giant pumpkins. All of the riders had to sit on the bag to get the air out of it.
Despite the rough landing, both women are ready to go again, anytime.
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