Do you want the West Bank of Luxor and all its monuments at one blow? Like to to have a bird's-eye view of the sites - very calmly, without pushing and shovingund, without long lectures? Then for sure a ride by hot-air balloon will be the right trip for you. I tried it out for you, like to describe you this exceptional experiece in a very personal way by words and pictures. With my story I invite you to join me.

Titbit for early birds

It seems I am destined to start exceptional trips on the West Bank more and more in the early morning hours. Once again I get up when others may be turn around in their bed, once again I am ready in time. Once again I am waiting at the meeting point before sunrise. Only few Egyptians already are up and about, because of the low temperature of the December morning wrapped up beyond recognition in their long, warm scarfs. One of them is waiting for one of the so far rare service cars, murmurs a sleepy hello, nervously asks me for the time. The next one is a boy riding a donkey, a second one tied up to him. He is already a bit more woken up, offers me with a smile his second donkey as a taxi, if needed. But it's not, shukran, thank you, have a nice day.

Now two mini busses are stopping in order to "catch" me. Good Morning, sabah al cher, welcome, how are you. Nice sounding words coming from well rested Egyptian, tired western faces reach my ears. After introducing himself one of this faces belongs to Ahmed Mahmoud, owner of "Magic Horizon Balloons", and of course also apilot. So far I knew him just by phone, watched the red hot-air balloon from our roof (picture right). Although everything was discussed in advance, I feel his doubt about seeing me, a female, alone in front of him. Without my husband he met before in his office. Who will take the pictures, who will write the story?

 

 

 

For me his questions sound a bit nervous. I assure him that I am a journalist since more than 20 years. Like my husband I am able to do my job - alone. That calms him down, but not prevents him for his offer to provide me with photographs from his office (a must for me only in case if the worst comes to the worst - what not happened, thank goodness. Eventually not only pilots, but also journalists have a sense of their professional ethics). But we start to joke, become relaxed. I tell him, that I already know ballooning from my homeland Germany, where we call it "driving" a balloon. Although Ahmed doesn't like the word "driving" (it touches his sense of his professional ethics), he is amused. "I am a pilot, I not drive a taxi or ride a bicycle, but fly a balloon!" he explains. I can assure him, that also in Germany the "drivers" are called pilots. The only difference is, that there they do not "fly" but "drive" a balloon. Finally he is laughing about this hairsplitting, we agree in the phrase "riding" a balloon.

On our short drive to the starting area, properly as it should be, he gives me all the instructions that are needed. In no case you should start a balloon ride (drive/flight...!?) without these instructions. The other guest have been already instructed while crossing the Nile by boat and getting cake and coffee - by Ahmed's brother Bahaa, Chief Pilot and Operation Manager of "Magic Horizon Balloons" and our "driver" for today. With their signature they confirmed that they understood everything of the safety regulations. Ahmed examines my clothes, my shoes, considers it's fine and appropriate. Recommended are flat sneakers, not stilettos or high-heeled sandals. But the most important points are: it is absolutely forbidden to smoke in the balloon, or to touch anything, like the ropes, the levers, the balloon itself, except the passenger basket. And in case of a rough landing you have to caught on the loops inside the basket, to protect your head under the well-padded border of the basket, to avoid any injury. Everything is allright.

Wakeup time for a giant

We arrive at the starting area. A large tarpaulin is put down on an idle field. On this sheet like a struggled or sleepy giant lying on its side - the balloon. About three-quarters filled-up with hot air. But with enormous roaring huge flames whiz out of the burner, fling-in its incredible heat into the bright red balloon. It bellies out more and more (picture left). It seems to me, as if the giant comes to life, tries to get up. Very slowly his body straightens up. But he is still "in chains". Tied up with ropes, pulled tight by the many hands of the ground team. Beside the gigantic bubble-shaped envelop they look tiny. Nevertheless they are able to hold the giant in check, to assist him in straighten, they give him metre by metre a bit more of the rope. Bit by bit also the the passenger basket with all the equipment for navigation and fire-regulation comes in its correct position, becomes ready to get us on. While our red giant still is under control of the team, which always is ready to support him with helping hands.

As it is common in Egypt, everything is accompanied by lots of words, gestures and laughing. It's a team of high spirits, working perfectly coordinated together. The 20 young and motivated men don't care about getting up so early, you can feel that they enjoy their work. And between all this chatting and laughing again and again that snarls when the next burst of fire shoots into the giant's body, makes him become jampacked. We, the passengers, keep respectful distance, as the heat of the flames reachs us, warms us up in this chilly morning, while in the fiery environ of the giant Ahmed Mahmoud, Bahaa Mahmoud (our pilot and guide for today) together with their collegues have a last good look at every single piece of the technical equipment, do their final check-up. Because last but not least safety is of paramount importance for balloonists.

Slowly but surely the day is breaking, the sun tries to reach the horizon. With a quick glimpse to the now a bit brighter sky, I discover a flock of storks, moving in arrow-shaped formation towards south. A fascinating picture, which I can catch in the very last moment with my camera (picture above left). My next look to the east shows, that the sun started its working day (picture below). Nearly every morning this sight captivates me. No question, as so many mornings before, also today my "Digicam" has to save this view to its chip.

 

 

 

But now it is time. Now it is our turn. We - a mixed group of people from different countries - have to get in, better to say to climb into the basket. But there are enough helping hands, strong arms to assist us. Everyone of us is directed to his place in the small, padded "separeés" the basket is devided in. It reminds me of a very popular wicker basket in Germany, used to carry bottles of wine or other drinks. Of course here we have other dimensions, but like the the small one devided in several compartments, padded for the comfort of the guests. In the middle the pilot has his place. Here all instruments for controlling and navigating the red giant are installed within reach to him. Around him there is enough space for twelve bottles, oh, sorry, of course I mean passengers.

 

So far the red giant is "tamed" with ropes from all sides by the ground team. But one by one is untied, and after some more fire blasts very gentle he takes of from the ground. So gentle, that you don't realize it, if - like me - you just look towards west to the mountains. Actually I saw that we already lifted some metres up into the air, when I heard the farewell song performed by the ground team, meanwhile "armed" with the typical Egyptian drums (pictures below right: packed basket; the singing ground team, left in the brown jacket Ahmed Mahmoud).

 

Take-off and gliding

Very soft and slowly we leave our mother earth, lift up towards the sky. Unbeleavable soft we start to glide, to float, in complete silence, except the noise of the flames, neccessary from time to time to bring more hot air into our balloon. From inside the fire, from outside the sun makes the body of our giant looking like a shiny flare, worth another picture. But now we have one duty only: to scan the landscape below us. The magnificent mortuary temples and the rugged mountains. The fertility of the fields on one side, the bareness of the desert on the other side. In between again and again the colourful buildings of the villages, and like dark ribbons the rare asphalt roads, leading to the monuments. Everything down there shrinks to sizes of toys. The higher we lift, the smaller becomes everything.

It's amazing to overlook the whole West Bank. Suddenly the area I know very well looks completely different. In the east across the Nile until the city of Luxor, still covered within the haze of the morning, but visible though. In the west the rugged chain of the mountains obstructs relentless any commanding view. But while the Ramesseum and the fields are still kept in shade, the mortuary temple of queen Hatshepsut is dipped into the rays of the rising sun (see picture on top of this page), is coated with a reddish shimmer. Also this a picture I shall never forget.

 

The more the sun climbs up, the clearer become the outlines of the sightseeing sites. The shadow of our balloon joins us, follows us across fields, mountains, and temple walls. We are going down a bit, gliding towards the Ramesseum and the colossi of Memnon. So far, there is no traffic of tourist busses, the parking lots are empty. That will change soon, but then probably we already are back on earth, experienced and enjoyed already the first adventure of our day.

 

 

 

 

Imperceptible wind and thermal conditions - for ballooning the two absolutely essential elements, something like natural "conductors" concerning the direction of the flight (drive) - drifted us south. We are gliding along the sharp edge of cultivated land and desert towards the temple of Medinet Habu. And go further down. Our companion, the shadow of the balloon becomes bigger and bigger (picture left), is no longer our pursuit, but our trailblazer. A sign for our drift from the sun, which climbed up, is now located to us in a totally different angle. But it also is a sign, that the final stage of our early morning adventure comes closer and closer - at least we are almost one hour in the air. When crossing Habu temple, we are already so deep-seated, that we nearly can touch it with our hands. But just nearly. One ore two more fire shots, and we are gliding across the temple without any problem. The guardians send up their greetings, not that we wake them up! Be that as it may,tourists are not to be seen yet.

After passing the temple in good shape, we are back above the desert. On the track near the "French House", the beautiful building of the French excavating missions, we can see our mini busses. Permanently in radio contact with the pilot, the ground team followed us, to be on the spot in time for our landing. Before we didn't noticed them. In a short distance to the old Christian cementary the passenger's basket in one go touches the ground, gives another tiny little hop forward, and comes to a standstill (picture left: The shadow play of our landing in the desert). "Happy Landing" you can hear it all the way over here. It sounds like a congratulation to us, the passengers. As if we contributed anything activ to our safe and well-done landing, or chose that lovely location. (Text and Fotos Antje Sliwka)