Last Christmas Gemma gave Nick and I an amazing present; a voucher for a hot air balloon flight over the Dordogne. Obviously we hadn’t taken it by the time of Nick’s death, so Gemma agreed to go with me.

The date we booked was very close to the end of Gemma’s stay and the weather forecast wasn’t great for the Thursday morning, so the company suggested we do Wednesday evening instead. 

What an experience it was! 

There were several balloons flying in the area, it seems to be quite a centre for it.

Our balloon was enormous, as was the basket; big enough for 16 people plus the pilot. We were 12, so we had plenty of space as, once the balloon was inflated, we climbed aboard.

I don’t think I was the only one wondering if our pilot knew what he was doing at the beginning of the flight; we lifted a bit, but then stayed on the same level as we crossed above a road. We needn’t have worried however; on the far side of the road was a big field of maize, which we skimmed, the top leaves of the maize just brushing the bottom of the basket as we flew over the field. We then rose quickly before a row of trees along the edge of the Dordogne river, again just skimming the topmost leaves. 

Our pilot, a New Zealander, had done over 3000 flights in 87 countries over the past 23 years; he certainly knew exactly what he was doing. 

We rose higher and higher, though there was no sensation of movement, just a feeling of total peace and tranquility, ending up at 2200 metres altitude. No wonder everything looked so tiny below us!

All too soon, we began to descend, landing in a farmer’s field, where everyone helped to pack up the balloon before we were offered drinks and nibbles. 

An unforgettable experience.