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I’ve been reading about the Montgolfier brothers who pioneered
balloon flight in France in the 18th century. This is what I think.
Firstly, you need somewhere to take off and land. Secondly you
must remember to keep the fire alight. And thirdly, when the flight
is over, you need wine, food and company to maintain your sense
of elation.
 Having
mastered earth and fire, the Montgolfiers took to the air in Paris,
went up 500 feet, and ended up, 22 minutes later, in a nearby
vineyard. There they were greeted by enthusiastic crowds, and
were no doubt treated to a fitting repast. It’s an established
tradition. I went on a balloon ride over the vineyards in the
Yarra Valley during the week, and in keeping with tradition, promised
myself a champagne breakfast afterwards.
 The
balloon
was rolled out, the gondola was attached, the fire
was lit, we left the earth. Some 15 minutes later, the sun
rose too. By which time we were 1000 feet above the valley, and
still ascending.
Flying like that gives you a great chance of putting yourself
in perspective. You are reminded that you’re not where you normally
belong by the roar of gas burners just above your head. And viewed
from a great height, the daily concerns of life can appear
to be rather small.
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Sunrise
dwarfs everything. At 4,500 feet the winds are stronger, and
drive the clouds away. The early light catches only the tops
of mountains, leaving the valley farms and vineyards still in
shadow. We are above the foothills of the Great Dividing Range.
The balloon
begins to turn as though following a thermal. The sun is
behind us. The pilot uses his mobile phone to talk to the ground.
He is planning on bringing us down as close as he can to our
destination at a grand farmhouse that was built in 1838, 55
years after the Montgolfier flight above Paris.
 The
vines are just coming into fruit. The combination of a dry summer
and early autumn rain look like producing a great harvest this
year, so I’m told. Domaine Chandon, a subsidiary of the French
parent company Moet et Chandon, have big properties out here.
The vineyards
boast gold and silver medals from all around Australia,
and I believe you can buy a particularly nice Merlot for about
$25.
And after just under 2 hours in the balloon, food and drink
begin to haunt the imagination. Ahead
of us is our own shadow – partly on the ground, partly on
the last remains of fog. A farmer waves from his tractor. A
dog barks up at us. One last injection of heat to clear some
power lines, and we come gently back to earth, a minute’s walk
from the old mansion. We sit at big tables with snowy table
linen and crystal glasses. Bacon and eggs? A spot of champagne?
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