fuel supply, so you’re good to go.” She frowned at Amalia. “You don’t look ready. Last chance for a toilet break for the next few hours. Come on, I’ll show you the loo.”
Amalia protested, but there was no help for it. Whether she liked it or not, and she did so not, it looked as if she was going up in a hot air balloon.
Fourteen minutes later Amalia placed her foot in the small step built into the side of the gondola and scrambled over into the basket feeling as if she would be physically sick. If she’d had anything to eat, she knew it would have come right back up.
The basket sat on solid ground, so it didn’t move, but the loud noise of the burners and the ringing shouts of the ground crew fed her nervousness. A second later Rafael jumped in, exchanging places with Manuel. When Manuel climbed out of the gondola, they were ready to go.
“Keep up,” he shouted as he fed the fire, and the flames leaped high into the large balloon overhead.
Amalia cringed and looked for a corner to sit in. The basket was not exactly spacious, and valuable space was taken up with large propane tanks, all connected to interconnecting hoses that fed the burners.
She backed to an area against the side next to one of the tanks and sat down. Keeping her knees bent, she stayed out of Rafael’s way.
“There’re blankets in that side pouch if you want to sit on them,” he said, pointing to a flap covering a canvas basket affixed to the side. She pulled both out. Neither was large, but at least it beat sitting directly on the wicker. Wedging her back against the corner made by the basket and tank, she closed her eyes. When the basket lurched, she gripped the edge of the blankets and began praying. She knew her last moments on earth were about to end.
Another lurch, the burners roaring, and suddenly the sounds of voices faded. She could only hear the burners. Two minutes later there was silence.
Slowly she opened her eyes. Rafael stared down at her.
“You weren’t kidding about being afraid of heights, were you?” he asked. He had one hand on the control knob of the burners, but they were not shooting flame up into the balloon. There was only silence. The basket was slowly swaying, almost like floating in a pool. Or a cloud. She unclenched her hands, flexing her stiff fingers. It was cool up here, but not unpleasantly so. The sky around her was growing lighter.
“We’re floating?” she asked.
“Yes. If you’re serious about getting sick, stay where you are. I don’t want that.” Then he opened the burners and a roar sounded as loud as a motorcycle as the flames leaped. Five seconds later he shut off the burners again.
Silence.
For a long moment Amalia sat where she was. She stretched her legs out in front of her. Rafael was less than six inches away. Glancing around she noted how cramped the basket seemed. Due, no doubt, to the large propane tanks. Several people could ride as long as they stood, as there was space at each side of the basket. Storage pouches lined the walls. The tubes from the tanks were tucked under the covering at the top edge of the basket. Looking up, she saw the burners above Rafael’s head, still a good distance from the huge balloon that filled her sight.
Curiosity flickered. “How high up are we?” she asked.
He looked over the edge of the basket and her heart skipped a beat. What if he fell out? She’d be alone in the sky. She caught her breath.
“Don’t do that!” she said sharply.
“Do what?” he asked.
“Lean over the edge like that. What if you fall out?”
He laughed, looking around and then up at the balloon. “I’m not going to fall out. I’d have to climb up on the side to do so. But you’d feel better if you know how to operate the balloon. Come and I’ll show you.”
“I’m not moving,” she vowed. He was right, it was unlikely anyone would fall out. The high sides were almost chest high for her. Still, freak accidents could happen.
“You’re missing a great sight, Barcelona from the air. No truck or car noises. No pollution. Only the beauty of the city as it wakens against the blue of the Med. You may never have this opportunity again.”
She definitely would not do this again! She was tempted to peek. But the thought of looking down from so high caused a wave of nausea to sweep over her. She dropped her gaze to Rafael’s feet. She could do this as long as she didn’t move. She drew a deep, slow breath.
The basket swayed and she grabbed the edge of the blankets. Looking up, she saw Rafael right over her.
“Get back in the middle, you’ll dump us both out!” she yelled.
“It’ll never happen. Really, come see this view. You’ll regret it forever if you don’t.”
“I can’t.”
“Stretch yourself, you’ll be amazed what you can do if you just try.” He almost lifted her to her feet by his grip on one arm. Once standing, she pressed closer to him, her theory being he’d done this before and was less likely to fall than she was.
“Look.” He stretched out his right hand, his left still holding on to her. “See Vicente’s balloon? It’s lower than ours, he’s following a different air current. Still going pretty much the same direction, but not moving as fast as we are.”
Slowly she moved her gaze across the edge of the basket and looked. She could see her boss’s balloon, not too far distant, but definitely lower. She swallowed hard. How high were they?
“Now, look over there, you see the Serra de Collserola?” he asked, pointing to the high ridge that enclosed Barcelona on the northwest. “Beautiful.”
She jumped a second later when he casually reached up and depressed the lever to the burners. Flame shot up. A few seconds later he glanced at one of the gauges near the burners and released the lever.
Silence once again. Peaceful and amazing.
The sun had risen enough to illuminate the top edge of the ridge. Slowly the light moved down the slopes and toward the city. Amalia watched, moving her gaze slowly down until she saw some of the spires and buildings lighted by the rising sun. Forgetting her fear of heights, she leaned against Rafael’s solid strength and watched mesmerized as the city she’d lived in all her life was wakened with light from the sun. The white buildings began to gleam in the early light. Windows looked as if they were on fire as they reflected the early rays. She could see the grid pattern of the streets and the large yachts and boats in the harbor. It was breathtaking.
She looked around, still feeling as if any movement beyond her eyes would plunge her over the side and several thousand feet to the earth below. But she couldn’t resist. The sea was a dark blue, stretching to the curvature of the earth.
It was hard to tell in which direction they were traveling. In fact, there was no sensation of movement at all except for the gentle swaying of the basket.
“Are we still rising?” she asked.
“We’ve leveled off a bit. I’ll need to heat the air soon to stay with this current.”
“But we’re moving?”
