Old Cars

Spotted these cars this weekend in and around the museum parking lot. Couldn't resist snapping a few pictures. I know nothing about these, but I'm sure there are old car enthusiasts out there somewhere.

Horsey Fever!

Moi, as a wee girl, riding my horsey!

Many moons ago when I was a wee girl, my parents bought me a beautiful bouncing plastic horse that I used to ride and ride and ride until someone pulled me off and made me go do something else (apparently the springs got irritating after an hour—go figure).

A few years later, I got into riding real horses. I blame my mother. ;) Actually, I am so grateful to her for exposing me to this sport. We were living in Rota, Spain at the time. We bought a beautiful gray gelding called Diablo. He was ¾ Arabian and ¼ something else. Diablo did sort of live up to his name, in that he was a bit of a devil to deal with if he decided he didn’t want to do anything. You try moving a 900 lb horse if he doesn’t want to budge—and I was a 10-year-old kid at the time!

Diablo had once been a dressage horse, so his favorite thing to do instead of almost anything else was dressage. I’d be trying to get him to jump over a low jump and he’d start prancing and dancing around. It was beautiful, but just not what I wanted him to do. I had to work hard to get him to canter, too. That horse had the fastest trot known to man and I learned pretty quickly not to ride Diablo on a full stomach. He simply would not canter if he wasn’t in the mood. Not for me, at any rate. Mom was a no-nonsense rider, so she got him to do things I could only dream of.

Diablo and I eventually came to terms with each other, and I was able to progress quite nicely as a rider with English and Western saddles, as well as a bareback pad when I felt especially brave, or suicidal, as the case may be. We even competed in the local rodeos and Gymkhana’s at the stables where he was boarded and did quite well. They were no major grand and glorious competitions, but it still meant the world to me when I brought home ribbons and trophies, and I think he actually enjoyed competing.

Thinking back now, I wish I knew more about his previous life as a dressage horse and whether he competed in that discipline. Possibly his stubbornness to do what we wanted him to do was simply his misinterpreting what signals we thought we were giving him. A gentle kick here, or applying pressure with the knees there may mean something specific to a dressage horse. Ah, the things I still have to learn!

We had other adventures, too. Most of the time when I rode him it was an extremely pleasant and exhilarating experience, but there were those occasional bad days. One day we were out riding around the campo, and evidently we crossed an invisible property line and trespassed on someone’s private property. Next thing I knew someone was shooting a rifle! I didn’t stop to check if they were aiming at us or just firing up into the air, nor did Diablo. I barely had the “g” in giddyup out and he was a dot on the horizon! We carefully avoided that area of the campo after that.

We had less-harrowing and occasionally gross adventures in the jumping ring. In the early days before Diablo understood or took me seriously as a rider, I’d be trying to get him to turn one way to line up for a jump, and he went the other, throwing me to the ground just inches from a pile of manure. I swear that horse could smirk! I preferred his dressage steps to that mess!

Another time we had just finished the Grand Opening for the rodeo and were leaving the ring. Diablo accidentally cut too close to the large steel post as we were running out and I smashed my left knee on it. I screamed and my dad came running out and pulled me off the horse and carried me back to the car. At the hospital I had to have my knee drained of a lot of fluid. By this time Diablo and I had bonded pretty well and I think he actually felt horrible about it. He was very gentle and careful after that.

One of the traditions of the stable where we boarded Diablo was that when a rider had a birthday, a birthday posse would be formed. The posse would seek out the person with the birthday, pick them up and carry them to the water trough. The birthday girl or boy would naturally be fighting like mad to get away, but they never did. The posse would take the person’s boots off, and hat if they were wearing one, and then dunk them in the trough. Then they gave them a hearty HAPPY BIRTHDAY, and left them to squish around in wet clothes for the rest of the day. I know I hated it and I can only imagine how the horses felt about it.

So now, all these years later, I’ve been bitten by the horse bug once again thanks to a lovely dressage horse called Blue Hors Matine. Again, I have to blame my mother. She forwarded this link to me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKQgTiqhPbw . If you haven’t seen it, you’re horribly deprived and you must rectify it immediately!

Fortunately for my finances, common sense prevails and I realize I cannot currently afford to own a horse, so will settle for the video, and perhaps volunteering at a local service organization that specializes in helping children with disabilities to ride horses. Where there's a will...

Up, Up and Away - the Story (at last!)

Here at last is the story from my Hot Air Balloon Adventure back in 2006. Enjoy!

All loaded up and ready to fly!

December 2, 2006

What a day! It started freakishly early at 3:30 a.m., but that was because our report time for our sunrise flight was 5:30 a.m. I had to get to Kissimmee from Orlando, so an early start was in my best interests. Adrenaline kept me awake, anyway!

I found the meeting place easily enough, parked and went inside to find everyone else. There were dozens of people packed in a reserved area of the hotel’s restaurant sitting at tables and booths. All tables were full, so I selected a spot on a bench along one wall. As I sat and waited for our orientation to begin, I surveyed my fellow balloonists. Some folks were wide awake and excited, and some barely looked conscious. I could understand that. I’m a morning person and a 3:30 a.m. start was rough on me.

After awhile I struck up a conversation with the couple sitting next to me. They were from England and this was their second attempt to fly. On the first day they had tried to go up the weather was not cooperating and so they had to stay grounded. The balloon company invited them to come back again this day so they could try again. Evidently it is not unusual to have to try two or three times before the weather is good enough that it’s safe to fly. In talking with several other people, I learned that they, too, had tried before, so I began to wonder if we would get off the ground today. Well, I needn’t have worried. A short time later the pilots walked in, all smiles, and proceeded with the orientation.

We would be separated into groups and assigned to a captain. Then would follow the captain out to the waiting vans and get comfortable while the captains met outside to determine once and for all if it was safe to fly and if so, which way the wind was coming from and which launch/landing site we would use that day.

I was assigned to Captain Ian Swift, along with the Lucas family. We all followed Captain Swift out to the van, or rather we tried to. The man walked amazingly fast and we had to run to keep up with him or else we’d lose him in the dark. Panting, we arrived at the van and piled in. Captain Swift spoke a few words of greeting to us and then went to meet up with the other captains to decide which would be the best route to fly this day. A few moments later he was back and then we were on our way to the launch site.

We arrived at a large field in a remote country residential area. Several other vans had already arrived, so we had to head towards the back of the field to get set up. As we parked the captain asked us to leave any unnecessary items behind as there would not be much room in the balloon to store things. Also, he said, the balloon would be about 10 degrees warmer than the ground temperature, so we might want to consider leaving jackets behind. Since it was fairly warm, even for a December day, I left my jacket behind.

Once we were all safely unloaded from the van, Captain Swift and our ground crew of one immediately unloaded the balloon from the little trailer hitched to the back of the van.

It was fascinating to watch them get things set up. At some point it was only Captain Swift left to set up the balloon, but a few of the men folk from our group stepped in to help with the heavier lifting that was required. There was a lot of work to be done before the balloon could even be inflated, but eventually it was time and we all gathered eagerly around to watch.

If you’ve never seen a hot air balloon inflate before, you’re deprived. It was so exciting to see the balloon take shape and just imagine what it was going to be like to fly in it! Once it was inflated, Captain Swift wrangled the basket into an upright position, which was more difficult now that he had the balloon to contend with, and motioned for us all to come over to begin boarding.

A note: Balloon baskets do not have little doors that you step through, or at least ours did not. It is difficult, if not impossible, to be lady-like when boarding a balloon, so dress appropriately and don’t even worry about it. You have to put your foot in the small footrest on the side of the basket, and swing one leg over, and then the other, to get in, without kicking any of your fellow passengers (you really don’t want to irritate anyone just before or during a hot air balloon ride). I cannot recall now, but there may have been portable steps to help out the more ‘vertically challenged’ folks as the baskets are quite high.

After everyone was safely inside the basket, the ground crewman took pictures of us just before lift-off with each of our cameras. We were not the first off the ground that day, but that’s okay. We had a good time waving to those that were launching before us. Eventually it was our turn around 7 a.m. I barely noticed the lift-off, it was that smooth! I glanced down and noticed that things on the ground were getting smaller and smaller yet I felt only the barest hint of apprehension. This was what could be a once in a lifetime opportunity and we were already airborne, so why worry now?

We slowly lifted higher and higher. It really was a very peaceful experience and the absolute quiet and stillness as we ascended and watched the sunrise from the balloon was as close to a religious experience as I can imagine. I still get misty-eyed even now when I think about it.

As we were enjoying the slow ascent and peace and quiet, Captain Swift fired the propane tanks and startled us all. So, it was not to be all peace and quiet, but considering the alternative of crashing and burning, we gladly accepted the occasional noise from the tanks and just enjoyed the experience. Our captain decided to brush the tops of some of the trees with the basket, which prompted a few nervous giggles and some teasing, but it was all good. He pointed out some wildlife…a deer, and a cougar that was thankfully nowhere near the deer or that would have put an end to my religious experience.

Once we were well into our flight we peppered Captain Swift with questions about flying hot air balloons. He’s been at it 20+ years, and this balloon company, Orange Blossom Balloons (http://www.orangeblossomballoons.com/), has a perfect safety record. He told us that the company will not hire anyone with less than 1000 hours of experience piloting a hot air balloon and they must have met FAA requirements and passed the FAA exam.

Someone asked him if he raced in balloons, and he said he has not, but knows people who do and who get very competitive about it. For him, it’s all about just being up there and taking it all in. He was all smiles as he talked about his job and it was clear he loves it and couldn’t imagine doing anything else. What better way to start each day than watching the sunrise from a hot air balloon with a group of very happy people?

A little later into the flight, we saw an abandoned vehicle or two in the wilderness and lots of new construction, which can be good or bad, depending on your own point-of-view. I’d rather have the wilderness, personally, but it was still breathtaking to see from above.

We flew near the home of the pilot who normally flew the balloon we were in. I think he waved to us—it was hard to see from where we were. In one subdivision we flew over, several residents ran out to greet us, waving wildly and calling out greetings, and some ran back in to get cameras and take pictures. I felt like a mini-celebrity. We waved and called back to them and smiled even bigger than we had been.

All-too-soon our 1-hour flight was over and we were landing. We landed in the field near an orange grove (the company has negotiated rights to land in the fields) and reluctantly climbed out of the basket. As the captain began to deflate the balloon, the ground crewman (balloon wrangler) raced to grab and hold on to the rope to hold the balloon down until it had deflated enough so that it couldn’t lift off with one of us still dangling off the side trying to get out of the basket. This was no mean feat, as I could see him madly struggling to keep himself on the ground. Fortunately our hero was quite strong and managed to stay on terra firma.

Once the balloon had been mostly deflated we were all able to help with getting the last of the air out and fold and roll up the balloon and put it back into its sack and load it into the trailer. That took some time, but we had a lot of fun doing it. Someone discovered that there were tons of red ant hills near us, so that lent an element of ‘danger’ to the activity and kept it interesting—or at the very least kept us moving around!

Once the balloon was tucked away in the trailer, we drove a few yards to the orange grove stand, where we were given clear plastic cups and champagne and orange juice, in preparation for the Champagne Toast and Balloonist’s Prayer. As we toasted our successful flight and safe landing and all those celebrating birthdays and anniversaries, all of the pilots recited the prayer:

The Balloonist's Prayer

The winds have welcomed you with softness.

The sun has blessed you with his warm hands.

You have flown so high and so well

that God joined you in laughter

and set you gently back into the loving arms of Mother Earth

After the toast and prayer, we got back into the vans and drove back to the hotel, where we got to enjoy an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet. The Lucas family had informally ‘adopted’ me by this point and invited me to join them at their table for breakfast. The captains made the rounds to their groups and gave everyone their flight certificates and had them sign their credit card receipts (they don’t charge your card until you’re safely back on the ground). It is appropriate to tip the pilot at this time.

I’ve heard it said more than once that the first flight will cost about $200 and your second would cost upwards of $15,000 because once you fly, you will be hooked and want one of your own. It’s true. I would love to learn to fly a hot air balloon and have one of my own. The cost may be prohibitive for some, but in all seriousness, it is absolutely without question worth it to do at least once in your lifetime even if you have save for months to do it. I was fortunate in that my flight was paid for by my co-workers in honor of my birthday, but I am saving for another flight even as I write these words. It is an amazing, inspiring and awesome experience that could very well be impossible to top.

You can see a couple of short videos I took here:

Inflating the balloon: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t_0J18jtgck
Hot air balloon flight: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9NIeECkwMc

They’re not spectacular, and cannot even begin to compare to the experience of actually being there, but it will give you some idea of what it was like.

Hope you enjoyed reading my story, and I hope to see you in the skies during one of your own balloon adventures!

Childhood Pics

Well, slow news day, but I found some old pics from my childhood and thought I'd share.

I used to LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to ride this bouncy horse. I'd ride it until someone made me get off and go do something else. Still love horses to this day, and used to ride in rodeos and gymkhanas when we lived in Spain. *Sigh* I miss it!

Here I am at about 14 months old. It wasn't actually Halloween at the time, but I guess I liked to play with that pumpkin!

 

I was born in Paris, France, and here I am, half asleep, with a Paris doll that I received one Christmas. I still have that doll, although she's missing many of her accessories, and shoes, and socks, and jacket...