Sagrantino Ballooning Trip 2019 - Pantalla      1st August:

Final Pantalla Take-offs

    Today was to be another launch from the Pantalla grass airfield, with a slight breeze invisibly drawn towards Todi.
    Niall and Liz were hoping to achieve fame and stardom by actually flying over Todi; this was their big opportunity. However, their hopes were dashed when Ralph mentioned he had found a compulsory passenger for them, Michaela. The weight of a third passenger coupled with the number of gas tanks and the trickle of a wind rendered the ambition futile.

Cloud Nine Final Take-off Containing Niall, Liz and Michaela

    Meanwhile, John strapped himself into his magnificent flying machine, and anchored down by fellow balloonists, he bubbled hot air into the envelope. When the "anchors" all let go at the same time, he comically shot high into the air just like a cork out of a champagne bottle - almost cartoonlike.

John and Hopper Final Take-off

    Tony, Fiona and I watched over fifty balloons take to the skies, and drift like a smack of coloured jellyfish towards the Mecca of this event, Todi. From our stance, it seemed as if one or two of the early starters had already reached the historic town and were descending on the far side.

Heading for Todi

    I was distracted by a cock chaffinch, slate-blue capped and rosy breasted, flutter by into nearby scrub with a flash of white wing feathers. My eyes tracked up to the balloons smoothly drifting across the clear blue sky, like great ships on a mighty ocean. Could they ever emulate this small feathered creature? Man's futile attempts to be as free as a bird.
    Then my mind took a lateral leap, and was filled with the fluttering in Vaughan Williams' "The Lark Ascending", a piece of music I am particularly fond of. After years of consideration, my thoughts have converged on the notion of this piece of music being played at whatever farewell ceremony my children arrange for me on my passing. I digress.
    Our intrepid heroes wandered lonely as clouds over the gently rolling countryside below. We took time out by a nearby field blanketed with sunflowers; Fiona wanted a photoshoot among them. Then we headed along the valley towards Todi, anticipating a message from our Montgolfiers to message us when they had returned to terra firma. The message did arrive from Niall, both our balloons had landed in the same field. Armed with the "dropped pin", we navigated our way towards them. We could not see them because of trees, hedges are tall sunflower fields, and managed to take a wrong turn down a farmer's track when we were within 400m of them. Much head scratching ensued, but by carefully retracing our tacks and heading down an alternative track we arrived alongside a sunflower field that seemed to stretch forever. I noticed a head moving through the sunflowers. Something made me think this could be Niall trying to find us. I called him over my phone and asked him to wave. An arm appeared above the bodyless head and started waving. In short time we had picked up a narrow, grass track that led through the sea of sunflowers to a stubble field beyond. There we found Cloud Nine and the hopper all packed up. The Haverill team's balloon was nearby and all packed away too.

Function in Piazza del Comune

    On the conclusion of our team's flying during this event, we enjoyed croissants in the field with Michaela, sadly no Prosecco, but we at least marked the occasion. It was a little sad for the two couples, they knew they would be departing this stunning countryside we were now basking in, and returning to Britain the following morning.
    We chatted a while with the Haverill balloonists; their retrieve team appeared to be well and truly lost. We promised to give their retrievers guidance down the maze of hidden tracks, if we ever saw them again that is, and left them to it.
    We drove a delighted Michaela back to Pantalla, then returned back down the valley to Bar Cleri for beers and a chin wag. Happily, the Haverill team made it too.
    In the evening, we climbed up to Montefalco's Piazza del Comune. A few days earlier we had booked a table at a very much recommended restaurant, L'Alchimista, and we were very much looking forward to sharing our final evening meal together in this fine establishment owned by sisters. Like the alchemist, the restaurant's aim was to apply "magic" to manipulate raw ingredients into a dish of gold. The kitchen is the laboratory where chef Moretti Patrizia blends her creativity with the aromas and flavours of each season in a measured balance consistent with the Umbrian tradition.
    The wine flowed sweetly, a variety of white and red chosen by our wine aficionado, Niall. The food was exquisite and thoroughly enjoyed by all.
    In the centre of the square where tables had been laid out the evening before, a large assortment of signatories were gathered in their fine attire. While an invisible Italian uttered machine-gun like renditions from the town hall. An array of young men, dressed in white tunics and leggings, brought food to the tables on what resembled stretchers.
    Occasionaly the invisible voice ceased, replaced by ethereal music, and young men and women dress in "Game of Thrones" costumes walked and slowly danced, their tall stilts disguised by flowing robes. It was a marvellous spectacle - the wine helped.
    But the hectic week of early starts and the physical toll of ballooning and consuming quantities of beer before breakfast was starting to catch up on some of us. We called it a day and waltzed down the hill back to Camiano Piccolo. It had been a delightful evening.

Meal at L'Alchimista - Left to Right: John, Fiona, Tony, Liz, Me and Niall