Discover Walla Walla

When I was in college, I made a list of things I want to do before I die.  There are simple things, such as stop by the large antiques and fruit stand on the freeway between Walla Walla and Yakima, or driving a tractor.  Then there are things I’ve already done, such as visit London, or become a mother.  And finally, there are the complicated things; things that may or may not present an opportunity between now and when I’m laid to rest.  Things like riding in a hot air balloon.

The Walla Walla Balloon Stampede is one of those traditions that’s been around longer than I have.  It’s an automatic mood-lifter to head to work and discover two dozen hot air balloons watching your commute from the clouds.  As you get closer to them, the colours stand out: Bright blues, brilliant reds, stunning greens, cheerful yellows, royal purples and shimmering golds.

I always wonder about the people in the baskets beneath those bewitching orbs drifting high above my head.  How old are they?  How many are in each one?  Where are they from?  What made them buy a balloon?  Where did they learn to fly one?  How do they know each other?  When will they take me up?

When I was quite young (perhaps 7 years old), I was at an event in a California park with my grandfather and my dad.  There was a hot air balloon there for some reason, and I was fascinated by the gigantic balloon and the loud noise the fire made as it kept the canvas inflated.  My dad and grandpa took me over to the basket and the balloon operator invited me inside.  I shyly stepped into the basket and someone took my picture.

 

Though I can’t recall where, when or why that event took place, the memory of being in that basket has stuck with me, and ever since I’ve had a dream to go up in a balloon.  So next year, I’m volunteering to be part of a balloon crew during the Stampede.  If they’ll have me, I’ll work harder than anyone there...and maybe, just maybe, they’ll thank me with a ride.