CDMX Diaries: Full of hot air
The benefits and surprising absence of harnesses in Mexico City
There’s one thing about hot air balloons that we’ve got to get straight right away. There should be harnesses. Or seatbelts, or ropes, or something that means you are, in effect, strapped in. Riding in a hot air balloon looks and feels exactly like it does in a child’s drawing. It’s a load of people stood in a basket, that floats very, very high up into the air. Our hot air balloon ride peaks at about 9,000 feet. If you’re doing anything that involves going thousands of feet in the air in a basket, you should be strapped in.
But, I hear you whine, hot air balloons are safe! They are, you’re right. According to some sources, hot air balloons are the safest form of air travel. Then as all us nervous flyers famously know, air travel is the safest form of travel. And I know these two facts are both correct, statistically. But I don’t tend to think about the statistics when I get a little bit nervous during take-off. I tend to think about those people who are now a different kind of statistic: people who have died in plane crashes.
I know, in reality, that getting in a car is far, far riskier than getting in a plane, or even a hot air balloon. But it’s not the likelihood of crashing while in a plane or a hot air balloon that gets me, it’s the severity of the crash should it occur. There are degrees of car crashes. You can have a minor car crash. There’s no such thing as a minor plane crash. If your plane is crashing all the statistics in the world won’t save you. Neither, when you come to think of it, will the seatbelt, but my point still stands: you shouldn’t be able to fly 9,000 feet in the air simply standing in an open basket.
This is a long-winded way of introducing the fact that while in Mexico City we decide to ride in a hot air balloon above the pyramids of Teotihuacán. I say “we” but really what has happened is that L. has made it clear it is one of her undying wishes to ride in a hot air balloon above the pyramids of Teotihuacán, and so that is what we are doing.
I am a little nervous. Well, I am really quite nervous, shitting myself, actually, as we wait and watch the balloons get prepared. Luckily, I’m not alone. We meet another couple from London, Jim and Ella. Jim isn’t nervous at all. He’s got his camera at the ready. Ella is as nervous as me, and, like me, has done her research.
It is safe, she says, in the same tone that I’ve been intoning to myself in the mirror for the last three weeks, shortly after waking up in a cold sweat. There was a hot air balloon crash here at Teotihuacán last year, but the balloon was ran, piloted, flown, whatever, by a bootleg company, a bunch of frauds. I have every sympathy for those that were involved in the crash (I have no idea what the end result was, I very deliberately did not ask), but I would say that hot air ballooning, though low-risk, is not the time for scrimping. When I agreed that yes, we would go up in a hot air balloon together, one of the first questions I asked L was how official the company was. I obviously don’t know how hot air balloon company licenses work, but I’d at least like them to have one.
So, Ella tells that story, and I tell one too, about a crash I read about in Egypt. Everyone thinks the main danger of hot air ballooning is that the balloon will pop, I explain, but that’s not the case. It can’t pop, it’s already got a hole in the bottom. Your real problem is fire, and that’s what happened in the Egyptian case. The whole thing set on fire, killing most of those on board. This is a bit much for Ella. She has done her research, but not this much. Later, when we’re at several thousand feet, I will smell the distinctive odour of gas as our pilot changes fuel canisters, and I will regret telling Ella, who is standing in some distant balloon on the horizon, about the fire. That smell makes me think of fire, and more to the point, explosions.
Then there’s the American woman who is sharing our balloon and who is, I’m delighted to say, even more nervous than me. Nervous is actually putting it mildly. Her friend has set up a tripod as we wait to board, and is busy making content for her no doubt many followers. She meanwhile is praying. “Jesus let me get out of this balloon safe,” she pleads, “please Lord let us land safely.” This is really outstanding stuff. At least I’m not audibly praying. My knees may be weak but they’re not on the floor. For the first ten minutes of the ride she’s actually sat down, not daring to stand up and look where we’re going.
Finally, we take off. There may not be any harnesses but there are handholds, and I’m white knuckling them as we move off above the treeline. The pyramids are in the distance, as are what looks like hundreds of other hot air balloons. I hadn’t anticipated one of the main hazards of a hot air balloon ride being traffic.
(Also, one of the things that nobody tells you about hot air balloon rides is that one of the best things to look at, one of the best views, is all the other hot air balloons. You don’t see them very often, and when you’re in the air with a load, you can’t stop looking at them.)
The ride itself alternates between terror and wonder. The view is, it should be said, magnificent, and when I can forget for a few seconds about what falling from this silly little basket would be like, flying through the air for thousands and thousands of feet until I crash into the ground (or a pyramid), I can just about enjoy myself. L has no such problem. She’s having a whale of a time. She does nearly drop her sunglasses out of the basket, something that nearly makes some wee leave my body, but even that doesn’t phase her.
But really, apart from a brief period of time where we hover around 9,000 feet, much, much too high, in my view, I do appreciate it. We may be very high up but we can see for miles and what we can see is beautiful. There’s a moment when we drop down towards the pyramids, the mountains in the distance, where I think, yes, this is great. Let’s go around again, so I can know this time that I won’t die a fiery death. I’ll enjoy it this time, right from the start.
I do still think we should be strapped in, though.
Thank you so much for reading! A quick request - if you liked this please don’t forget to press like. It helps other readers find Tom Fish Is Away.
If you liked this post please do consider becoming a free or paid subscriber to Tom Fish Is Away. Paid subscriptions are just £3.99 a month or £29.99 a year and get you an extra travel diary each month. Or get 75% off your first year by using the button below.
The praying worked! Alive and well to tell the tale 😂 cant wait for the next hot air balloon ride!
Well I think you did amazing. Especially as I saw how scared you was on the London Eye all those years ago. I'm actually rather envious. It sounds wonderful.