HOW I OVERCAME MY FEAR OF HEIGHTS

 

I don't remember when I found it out.  My fear of heights. My first memory was being high in a chinaberry tree and afraid to come down. The six-year-old adventurer in me had persuaded me to reach those heights. My muscles were locked  and knuckles were white as I hung on awaiting my daddy to rescue me. Some fifty years later while in the US  Navy I had to climb the mast on the aircraft carrier, Intrepid. I froze at the top of the mast and had to have Donnie Robinson talk me down. When flying in planes  I always got an aisle seat and never looked out of the window. Now in my sixty fifth year I was going to be put to the real test. 

We were in Cappadocia, Turkey, at daybreak. My dear sweet wife had purchased tickets for us on a morning hot air balloon flight. We had only been married only about seven years and she was not aware of my fears. A guy just doesn't admit a lot of fears to his beloved. Right? And I wasn't going to confess anything then.

There was a lot of activity as the balloons were unloaded. But the silence of the morning was broken by the hum of gasoline engined blowers inflating the thirty-five balloons. The babble of Turkish aeronauts and their crewmen filled the air as the giant balloons slowly emerged from the barren rocky launch site.  Soon there was the sound of the propane burners and the landscape was alive with giant glowing multicolored orbs. 

I had always thought that those baskets, gondolas, that hand from the balloon were rather small, but these had bigger ones. We climbed into the gondola.  There were about a dozen. Some spoke English as their native tongue. The craft lifted off the ground, not straight up as I expected but in a forward motion. I held onto the side of the basket. The big burner made a lot of noise and the heat warmed us all in the basket. There may have been a chill on the ground but not in the basket.  I thought of taking my leather jacket off. But I would need both hands free. I preferred to keep my white knuckled hands on the side of the basket as we continued to ascend.

The passengers were chatty. Someone asked the pilot what emergency procedures were.  He said he didn't know because it was his first flight. The pilot's walkie-talkie was alive with what sounded like excited chatter in a foreign language. I asked if something was wrong. With a smile on his dark face he said, "I don't know.  It's in Turkish, I'm an Egyptian!" That didn't boost my confidence in his piloting skills. I finally consoled myself in the fact that the situation was out of my control and what would happen, would happen. Apparently we had reached cruising altitude because the pilot cut the burner off and it was very quiet. I finally mustered up the courage to look below.

The landscape of Cappadocia was barren with those fairy castles everywhere. Fairy castles are what the locals call the cone shaped hardened mounds of compacted volcanic ash. The small mountains were of volcanic as, many of which have dwellings carved into them. Near here was an underground city carved from this compressed volcanic ash. 

Below are people waking up and starting their day. You can hear them talking from hundreds of feet overhead. The sky is filled with colorful balloons.  I was comfortable. I was actually enjoying being this high off the ground and without any control over my well being. Have I lost my fear of heights? 

Our balloon began to descend. Below a van pulling a trailer was racing to position the trailer under the gondola. The pilot gently landed the basket on the trailer and we immediately clamor out. We toasted each other with mimosas in champagne flutes.

Yes, I believe that all it took was a hot air balloon ride in the Turkish outback to cure me of my acrophobia.