Day 1

Here we go, off to the Balloon Fiesta, the travel crew  rolled into Cedar Rapids Airport, all chatter and half-zipped bags, only to find ourselves sitting, waiting, stuck in that peculiar airport limbo.

Air traffic control finally gave us the green light, that bureaucratic blessing from the tower gods, and we lifted off.

Denver greeted us like Denver always does: too big, too bright, and determined to make you walk a mile before you can rest. The furthest gate, of course. They design it that way, I swear, a fitness test disguised as infrastructure.

Then Albuquerque, dry air, wide horizon, and that sudden stillness that tells you you’ve arrived somewhere different. We found the van, found the Airbnb, found the pizza joint. Tomorrow: the sky would bloom with color, and the world, for a moment, would remember how to look up.

Day 2

Before dawn, the crew stirred. Groggy, quiet, half alive, we packed up and hit the road toward the Balloon Fiesta. The drive was short, the sky still holding its breath. At the field, six balloons already glowed in the darkness. Giant orbs breathing fire, ready to rise. The smell of breakfast burritos mixed in with the cold air.

We ate as the opening ceremony began. The first light came, and with it, a wave of color. Balloons of every shape and size lifted, slow and deliberate, until the sky looked alive. We walked the grounds, letting the heat and noise wrap around us. Picked up a few souvenirs from the merch tent.

Somewhere between coffee and conversation, we met Keshia, owned a little place called Cruising Cones. She handed us ice cream with a smile and refused to take a cent. Small moments like that stick with you longer than you expect.

By midmorning, the adrenaline wore off. We drove back to the Airbnb, to recharge.  Then lunch. Later, we headed to Petroglyph National Monument, only to find the visitor center closed,  another casualty of the government shutdown. No matter. The trails were open, quiet, scattered with volcanic rock and history preserved into stone. We hiked a bit, just enough to feel the heat and dust under our shoes.

Back in town, snacks, dinner, the stillness that comes only after a day spent moving. One more early morning ahead.

Day 3

We were up before the sun. A few of the crew had the chance to ride a hot air balloon over Albuquerque, and there was no hesitation.

The weather was pleasant and the burner roared to life. The balloon began to swell, the fabric trembling like it had a pulse of its own. Then came lift. Slow, steady, impossibly smooth.

Albuquerque drifted away beneath us. Streets, rooftops, the first cars of the morning moving through the gray light. To the north, the sky was scattered with color, hundreds of balloons floating from the Fiesta like bright strange creatures. It felt unreal. Beautiful in a quiet way.

When we landed, tradition called for a toast. The French began it centuries ago, a celebration of flight and survival. Juice, crackers, small cakes, the taste of morning sweetness.

Later we made our way to Old Town. The shops were filled with silver jewelry, woven blankets, carved wood, and bright pottery. A mariachi band played in the plaza, the songs carrying through the warm air. We wandered, we bought things, we ate, and we listened.

Dinner that night was easy and slow. Good food, good talk. We sat together and shared our favorite moments from the day.

Tomorrow will come early again. Another start before sunrise. Travel has a rhythm like that. You move, you see, you taste, you listen. Then you begin again.

Day 4

Albuquerque, the final day. Campers got the opportunity to ride in a hot air balloon once again.

After landing, feet back on earth, we drifted to the Hot Air Balloon Museum. A place stitched together by history, color, and stories of people who chased the sky before engines made it easy. Lunch followed, simple and necessary.

Then came the drive, winding up toward Sandia Crest. The air thinned; the world fell away beneath us. At 10,678 feet, the valley stretched out like a painting that had been waiting for us to notice it. Silence, wind, and that quiet awe you only find on mountaintops.

We ended the day the way travelers often do, back home, a little tired. Bags packed, rooms cleaned, and one last dinner out.

Day 5

Link to photos: https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjCxosW