I'll cut to the chase; in 1986 during a flight lesson, my instructor and I hit a powerline.
I like articles that get right to the point. Most articles would have opened like this...
"It was a warm morning, not unlike any morning in south Louisiana, a slight settling of mist in the rich green fields. The beauty of a certain green field was interrupted by the rainbow of colors of our hot air balloon, tethered to the ground, anxious to ascend skyward, anxious like a horse ready to ride..." and a bunch of crap like that.
This flight was my third lesson and only fourth time to be in a balloon at all. Prior to my lessons, I had only crewed 3 times and flown once as a passenger. This is rather unusual I think; most pilots have a substantial amount of exposure to ballooning prior to their flight instruction.
My lessons took place in south Louisiana near Hammond, a densely forested area that in retrospect is not a very good place to learn how to fly. The only good part was that it forced me to learn how to land in very small places, usually just a hole in the trees where a house was.
So our 3rd flight was routine and after about 45 minutes, I was getting rather fatigued. I was at treetop learning a bit of contouring when it was clear that i had over-valved and we were headed directly into a tall pine tree about 20 feet from the top. My instructor, who I will call "Todd", (his real identity is unimportant for this story), sat down in the bottom of the basket and said dryly "I don't want any part of this" just as we crashed into the branches at about 8 knots. After we pulled all the limbs out of the basket he suggested that I take a break for a little while, which I wholeheartedly agreed with. Todd took over as we came directly over the I10 interstate, and thanks to a wind change, were now flying right down the middle of the median with 2 lanes on each side of us. Now, this was a very wide median, so there was no real danger of whacking side mirrors off the cars, so I did not see any problem, but let's remember that this was my 3rd lesson and did not realize how illegal and stupid it is to fly along with cars on a high speed freeway.
Todd decided to do a rather stupid thing; a few touch and go's down the median. Once approach was fine, then on the 2nd one, about 30 feet off the ground we heard an explosion overhead and saw a big fireball. Later we both agreed that we thought the burner had exploded. The powerline was the worst kind in that the poles were buried completely in the trees on each side of the interstate, completely invisible from any point of view. We had contacted the wires right at the skirt while in a descent. This is pretty much the worst way to hit (i think). Immediately upon impact the wires arc'd, blew some sparks, and my suspension cables starting popping. This balloon was a Barnes and had 18 cables. By the time the fireworks stopped, 14 had been severed leaving 4 to hold the basket. The problem is not the ability of the cables to hold, but instead, that they were mostly on one corner which makes the basket tip down in a rather steep fashion. Each cable has a tensile strength of roughly 1,100 pounds.
Todd immediately closed all tank valves which is the precise action that should be taken at this point. We were lucky that the power system breakers did not automatically reset as we jumped from the basket to the ground, a drop of only about 8 feet if I remember correctly.
I was rather shaken and sat on the ground for a few minutes until chase arrived. Hot on their tail were the police and two TV news crews from Baton Rouge. The news cameras were on us within seconds. Todd went and sat in the truck with the window closed, leaving me to deal with them. It was at about this point that I realized I had made a poor choice in an instructor. The news crew made sure to show all the damage and sensationalize the whole situation as much as possible. This is a news crew's job, make something out of nothing. As proof to this, let me divert the story with proof of my opinion.
Three years ago, my copilot and I did a gas flight out of Albuquerque and landed two days later just outside of Biloxi Mississippi. We were tired and low on ballast so we decided to do a standard landing in a tree'd area in a forrested area which is a safe place to be (no powerlines). In gas, any landing is a good one, and they most often are not pretty. We came in at tree level, saw a clearing, threw out the trail rope and popped the deflation port. The landing was gentle and of no danger. We could care less about the trees, but when ABC showed up, all they could talkl about was the "crash" no matter how many times I told them that gas landings are purposly executed in this manner. Well, the camera went live and the Reporter started out; "So tell me about this balloon crash". I responded "Well, this was not a crash, it was a standard gas landing". She just kept it up, repeating the word "crash" over and over again, with me correcting her each time. She realized that I had ruined her interview and stormed off. So back to the main story here.
My brother was on chase and being a rather responsible person, begin following the wire directions to see what sort of businesses and houses might be affected. He saw a concrete plant and took off running that way. The guys at the plant claimed that I had just ruined an entire batch of cement and would be suing me for the loss. Little did they know that my brother just happen to work in the concrete business (no kidding) and let them know that this was BS and promptly showed them how to water the mix to keep it viable.
We got everything cleaned up, gave the finger to the news crews, and headed home. Todd got on the phone and had a new set of cables overnighted to my apartment. The short story is that two days later I was back in the air. I could not get the balloon below 3,000 feet. Todd calmly told me that if we were to land, I would have to get a little closer to the ground. Over the next half hour I was able to get down to tree top level and started an approach. At this point I did not care what the landing spot looked like; I just wanted to get down. Well, I should have cared at least a little bit because the landing field was a muddy mess with dozens of cut off stumps. the mud/water was about about a foot deep. The envelope was draped over all the stumps and was a complete mess. It took an hour of staggering and tripping and falling through the mud and stumps to get the balloon out. It was hot and miserably humid. We went home, Todd got on a plane and headed home, and I just sat in a chair in my apartment, alone, and rather discouraged. I don't think it could have been any worse except for the fact that we escaped a wire strike with our lives.
A week later I got in contact with Dave Koenig, an excellent pilot, to continue my lessons. Dave took good care of me and after 3 more lessons I soloed and got my ticket about a month later. I now have 22 years and 800 accident free hours under my belt including a gas rating.
Todd decided to do a rather stupid thing; a few touch and go's down the median. Once approach was fine, then on the 2nd one, about 30 feet off the ground we heard an explosion overhead and saw a big fireball. Later we both agreed that we thought the burner had exploded. The powerline was the worst kind in that the poles were buried completely in the trees on each side of the interstate, completely invisible from any point of view. We had contacted the wires right at the skirt while in a descent. This is pretty much the worst way to hit (i think). Immediately upon impact the wires arc'd, blew some sparks, and my suspension cables starting popping. This balloon was a Barnes and had 18 cables. By the time the fireworks stopped, 14 had been severed leaving 4 to hold the basket. The problem is not the ability of the cables to hold, but instead, that they were mostly on one corner which makes the basket tip down in a rather steep fashion. Each cable has a tensile strength of roughly 1,100 pounds.
Todd immediately closed all tank valves which is the precise action that should be taken at this point. We were lucky that the power system breakers did not automatically reset as we jumped from the basket to the ground, a drop of only about 8 feet if I remember correctly.
I was rather shaken and sat on the ground for a few minutes until chase arrived. Hot on their tail were the police and two TV news crews from Baton Rouge. The news cameras were on us within seconds. Todd went and sat in the truck with the window closed, leaving me to deal with them. It was at about this point that I realized I had made a poor choice in an instructor. The news crew made sure to show all the damage and sensationalize the whole situation as much as possible. This is a news crew's job, make something out of nothing. As proof to this, let me divert the story with proof of my opinion.
Three years ago, my copilot and I did a gas flight out of Albuquerque and landed two days later just outside of Biloxi Mississippi. We were tired and low on ballast so we decided to do a standard landing in a tree'd area in a forrested area which is a safe place to be (no powerlines). In gas, any landing is a good one, and they most often are not pretty. We came in at tree level, saw a clearing, threw out the trail rope and popped the deflation port. The landing was gentle and of no danger. We could care less about the trees, but when ABC showed up, all they could talkl about was the "crash" no matter how many times I told them that gas landings are purposly executed in this manner. Well, the camera went live and the Reporter started out; "So tell me about this balloon crash". I responded "Well, this was not a crash, it was a standard gas landing". She just kept it up, repeating the word "crash" over and over again, with me correcting her each time. She realized that I had ruined her interview and stormed off. So back to the main story here.
My brother was on chase and being a rather responsible person, begin following the wire directions to see what sort of businesses and houses might be affected. He saw a concrete plant and took off running that way. The guys at the plant claimed that I had just ruined an entire batch of cement and would be suing me for the loss. Little did they know that my brother just happen to work in the concrete business (no kidding) and let them know that this was BS and promptly showed them how to water the mix to keep it viable.
We got everything cleaned up, gave the finger to the news crews, and headed home. Todd got on the phone and had a new set of cables overnighted to my apartment. The short story is that two days later I was back in the air. I could not get the balloon below 3,000 feet. Todd calmly told me that if we were to land, I would have to get a little closer to the ground. Over the next half hour I was able to get down to tree top level and started an approach. At this point I did not care what the landing spot looked like; I just wanted to get down. Well, I should have cared at least a little bit because the landing field was a muddy mess with dozens of cut off stumps. the mud/water was about about a foot deep. The envelope was draped over all the stumps and was a complete mess. It took an hour of staggering and tripping and falling through the mud and stumps to get the balloon out. It was hot and miserably humid. We went home, Todd got on a plane and headed home, and I just sat in a chair in my apartment, alone, and rather discouraged. I don't think it could have been any worse except for the fact that we escaped a wire strike with our lives.
A week later I got in contact with Dave Koenig, an excellent pilot, to continue my lessons. Dave took good care of me and after 3 more lessons I soloed and got my ticket about a month later. I now have 22 years and 800 accident free hours under my belt including a gas rating.
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