Wendy's Platter…travels

October 7, 2025

Our short drive from Château Chenonceau brought us to our meeting place for our hot air balloon adventure. When Tom and Tim first joined our journey, they asked what we would be doing in the Loire Valley. Frankly, I hadn’t planned anything other than taking in some of the châteaux. Tom got on the internet and immediately recommended a hot air balloon ride, his treat. We didn’t take long to accept his generous offer.

Now we were here. A van and truck picked all fourteen of the passengers up to take us to the launch site. Following the van was a flatbed truck that held the ballon and the basket. While his land team unloaded, our Lithuanian pilot, Mindaugas, who was not only an excellent pilot with more than 700 hours of flight time, but was also a gifted storyteller, comedian, and manager. After giving us our safety talk in both French and English, he got some of us helping while keeping the rest of us out of the way.

Top: In the giant bag is the balloon being dragged away from the basket. Our pilot, Mindaugas gives us our safety lecture well punctuated with jokes. Tom is ready, but the balloon is not. Bottom: Big fans start the process of inflating the ballon while Tom holds up the yawing mouth. Nick walks over to make sure Tom is working hard.

Before the flight, Mindaugas lofted a single small blue balloon into the air to see the air currents and decide whether our flight should take place. Two thumbs up! The balloon was unfurled, looking much like a thick rope, a very long thick rope.

But as the giant fans started blowing air into the mouth of the balloon, it began to fill creating a monstrous structure growing before our eyes. As the balloon inflated, Mindaugas fired up the burners to lift the balloon off the grass.

The time to board was now. Mindaugas carefully chose passengers one at a time to board, always keeping the basket balanced. Getting in was not too difficult, but it was definitely impossible to be graceful. With all of us in the basket, we looked like we were five-year-olds about to take our first roller coaster ride. Truthfully, most of us at least are ten times that age, but the excitement and smiles on all our faces melted any fears away.

I am not scared. We are not scared….Wait…we are airborn! Still not scared!

As the first ropes attaching us to earth were detached, we ascended gently into the sky. The roar of the burners matched well with the complete silence when they were off, as we drifted up and over the Loire Valley.

The Loire “Valley.” In the top right photo Château Chenonceau can be seen.

In an earlier post, I mentioned that the Loire Valley did not seem like a valley as there were not mountains to contain it. From aloft, I could see that was true. Very gentle rises, barely hills, make up the terrain with river banks adding dimension, and farms adding geometry, while rivers wind through the countryside.

Due to air currents, or lack there of, the basket made slow gentle circles allowing us to see a 360° view. Our flight had been booked to fly over Château Chenonceau and we had plenty of chances to view the chateau from above and watch the Cher River run through it and admire its gardens. At one point, I did a mental survey of all the faces of our fourteen comrades…all, including our pilot had an ethereal smile on their faces, feeling as if our earthly cares had dropped back to earth with the ropes that initially held us.

Tom and Tim consider landing sights. The vineyards do not seem like a good idea. Nick and I consider he town, but that doesn’t seem like a good idea either.

About 45 minutes into the flight, the pilot began talking about looking for a landing spot. He had made a point before and during the flight that he never knew where the wind would take us. As we descended slightly, we could see the land team following our flight, moving on the ground to be there for us. Seeing vineyards covering a fair amount of the terrain, we worried that the balloon would get speared by the stakes holding the vines or that we would be skewered. Although our pilot laughed, we could tell that it was not an impossibility.

We are not quite on the ground but the land crew is directing the pilot. The men are tasked with getting out of the basket to help guide it while it is still slightly airborn to a better spot for deflation.

With the ever-changing wind, and one aborted landing, the pilot found an overgrown field off a “white road” which is the term used for non-paved roads, as the roads are generally a white limestone dirt. Bracing for landing as we had been told (knees bent, backs against the basket, holding on to the red ropes looped into the basket), the basket touched down…and as predicted lifted up for a short bit and back down. Finally, the pilot told us we could stand up.

But the next part took almost as long as the flight: getting out of the basket, moving it with some folks still in it to add weight while it is still inflated, then getting it down to two folks still in the basket (I was one of them!) before everyone outside helped turn the basket on its side, then I and my last comrade got out, before the gas burners were extinguished and the process of deflating started.

The ballon blew up faster than it deflated…unlike a birthday balloon.

But the huge balloon still had plenty of air which needed to be pushed out so the balloon could be stored in its sack. Everyone was asked to help deflate by pushing on the balloon to get the air out. By then, the land team was there helping so there were at least two dozen folks trying to get the air out. It was slapstick comedy minus the banana peel as the someone pulled their handful of balloon to the ground causing the next person to be thrown off balance as the balloon reinflated. Plenty of laughter and good spirits.

Top: The long rope of the balloon, now furled. The start putting the balloon back in its bag. Bottom: Hoisting the bag onto the flatbed truck. And finally all is put away.

As the pilot tamed the balloon and turned it back into the long “rope” I had noticed when the unfurled the balloon was spread out at the beginning, we were able to get the last air out. The process of taking the 75-foot length of balloon and stuffing it into the bag was our next trick. Again, it was a slapstick comedy show as someone would push the balloon into the bag while someone else would have the balloon suddenly in their face. Clearly there was still air in the balloon. When it was done, all hands hoisted the giant bag on to the flatbed of the truck. A winch pulled the basket up and the balloon was now put away.

Ah! But there’s more!

The final “ceremony” was about to begin. In the field where we landed, our pilot unpacked his giant picnic basket onto the small tableclothed folding table filling it with local cheeses, sausages, and sweets plus some black bread that was a nod to his Lithuanian homeland. In addition popped open a few bottles of crémant, a local sparkling wine. Our glasses filled, we toasted the winds and the clouds, while I believe all of the passengers toasted our great pilot. The festivities began.

The food and wine was predictably delicious, but sunset had come and gone with the evening creeping in. Before we took off, Mindaugus handed each of us a certificate as proof of our balloon ride and told us that we were now all duchesses and dukes of the Loire Valley and we owned all that we saw from the balloon. He also mentioned that we would therefore be responsible for all the taxes, working out with the courts how we could take our property, and how we might have a small issue with the folks already living there.

Note the champagne glasses at the ready with plenty of Loire regional treats. At the right is proof that I am sovereign of all I saw from the balloon flight. I am certain I will have no problem taking ownership.

As tempting as it was, we all opted to leave the Loire Valley to those who already call it home. We will rule remotely from our own homes, knowing that our lands are in good hands.

©2025 Wendy Platt Hill

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