I woke at about 3.30am and didn’t really get back to sleep, anticipating the alarm. It was a clear, still morning. We got ready quickly, and by 5am were on our way to our ballooning rendez-vous. I could hardly believe it was going to happen.  Formalities and paperwork dispensed with, we were divided into groups and bussed to our launching spot. We were flying with Nathan, the most experienced pilot and owner of the company, so we were in good hands.

Disgorged into a paddock somewhere north, we started to see what looked like huge alien life forms slowly inflating. There were five balloons being readied for their pre-dawn flight. Ours was the largest, the traditional wicker basket fitted out with high tech (including a camera suspended on cables, that could take photos of us as we flew).  There were about 20 of us. One by one we clambered over the high sides, and took up our positions. We practiced the landing position, looking nervously at each other and wondering how it would feel when we left the ground behind.

In fact, takeoff was almost imperceptible; it was only the ground crew and vehicles growing gradually smaller, that told us we were flying.  We stayed low for a while, marvelling at the complete peace and tranquillity of balloon flight. It was magical.  Every so often, a dramatic burst of heat and noise from the burners interrupted the silence. Nathan skilfully piloted our balloon and we rose over a line of trees, gaining height quickly.  We could look back at the other balloons following our flight path.

The sun rose, setting the sky aglow and burning off the mist. Now we could see more details below – small lakes and dams, vineyards, kangaroos, birds flying below us. Sometimes we hung in the air, seemingly suspended and immobile.  Other times we covered the ground quickly. We reached 50 knots and got up to 2000 feet or more. We dropped low enough to skim the treetops.

After about 45 or 50 minutes, it was time to come down to earth. Our balloon was the first to land.  Readying ourselves for a bumpy touchdown, or even a tipover, we hit the dirt with a gentle thud, and came to an almost immediate stop – perfect landing after a perfect flight. I could have remained flying forever.

 Once out of the basket, we took photos and helped pack the billowing balloon into its container – a team effort. Then it was back on the bus for a large and delicious breakfast.

We could hardly believe it had happened, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. Not everything lives up to expectations. This was one of the best experiences of my life.

The rest of the day was always going to be anti-climactic, so we stayed deliberately low key.  We passed some time in Kurri Kurri, a very old coal mining town with a large number of murals depicting local life and history. It was also home to a Big Kookaburra, and a “lone pine”, descended from the famous Gallipoli pine.

Leaving the Hunter Valley behind (after agreeing we were too tired to do justice to the gardens), we headed east to Port Stephens.  With a couple of hours to while away before our apartment was ready, we had a look at Soldiers Point, then admired the views from the Gan Lookout. We could see the famous Stockton sand dunes, and Mount Tomaree. The weather was growing increasingly hot, with no sign of the forecast rain and thunderstorms.

We checked in to Poplars, an apartment which overlooks Nelson Bay. It is one of the best we’ve stayed in, and will be a lovely home away from home for us.  Just as I was contemplating a swim, the sky darkened and the heavens opened. The view disappeared and the temperature dropped sharply. Closer to Newcastle, there were strong winds and hail.

Its cleared up now, and Ian has just been for a night stroll, reporting that there is a lovely view of the marina and lights, from the grassy hill that we can see from our balcony. There will be plenty to explore in the morning.

I make no apology for the plethora of balloon photos.