Five Hours in a Balloon: Journeys and Discoveries of Cappadocia by Two Journalists
Compiled in Portuguese from the original notes of an anonymous explorer and done into English by me.
September 2018
It has been one week since we arrived in the Near Eastern lands. We now find ourselves in the Valley of Göreme, nestled within the heart of Cappadocia. Inspired by Dr. Samuel Ferguson’s legendary five-week African expedition of 1863, we seek to uncover the mysteries of this ancient region—its caves, its homes, and the lives of those who once thrived here. Our endeavor begins with an aerial survey of the terrain, employing the same ingenious method as Dr. Ferguson: the balloon. However, we, unlike our intrepid predecessor, have opted for oxygen instead of hydrogen—lessons well-learned from the Hindenburg.
4:00
The piercing sound of the alarm shattered the stillness of the early morning.
Like the ancients of this land, we had chosen to lodge within the cool embrace of a cave. Through a narrow aperture carved into the stone, we could glimpse a handful of distant lights flickering from neighboring caverns, faint beacons in the predawn darkness.
An hour later, our ride arrived—a trusty vehicle driven by a man who seemed to have journeyed these paths a hundred times over. With a knowing smile, he assured us that sustenance awaited us at the site.
Thus began our journey.
5:30
We arrived at the launch site as the sun crept closer to the horizon, its first light spilling into the vast, empty sky. Though we were in the peak of summer, the desert-like climate had brought a sharp chill to the air overnight.
A modest table awaited us, offering coffee, tea, and biscuits. Hardly a feast, but with little idea of how long we’d be aloft, I made sure to eat my fill. Around us, the balloons were coming to life, their fabric slowly unfurling as hot air breathed into their forms. Towering flames lit up the darkness, warming not only the air inside the balloons but also our frost-bitten fingers.
As the first balloon began to rise, its shadow long against the morning ground, we boarded our own wicker basket.
Our pilot, a man of calm demeanor and a thick moustache characteristic of the region, provided safety instructions. “In case of an emergency landing,” he explained, “you must crouch and sit to avoid broken legs.” Though I nodded in agreement, my thoughts wandered to Dr. Ferguson, whose fate reminded me that such journeys always carry an element of risk.
6:20
The sun’s first rays broke over the horizon, bathing the world in warmth and golden light. My skin, chilled from the early morning air, welcomed the gentle heat.
The deafening roar of the burners filled the stillness as we began our ascent. One by one, other balloons joined us, dotting the sky like colorful orbs suspended in a painting.
As we climbed higher, the valley below was transformed. Inch by inch, the sunlight painted the landscape in hues of yellow and ochre, revealing a terrain shaped by centuries of water and wind. The rock formations, towering like sentinels, told a story of nature’s relentless artistry.
Drifting westward, we traced a path back toward our lodge. In the distance, the fortress of Uçhisar rose like a stone crown. It is said that over a thousand people once lived within its walls, and beneath the city lies a labyrinth of tunnels descending a hundred meters into the earth.
Our journey continued softly, the air around us filled with the occasional wave and cheer from other adventurers in neighboring balloons.
Modern technology kept us aloft—a powerful burner and a basket that carried nearly 20 explorers. Our pilot’s protective eyewear glinted in the sunlight as he expertly guided our path.
Soon countless other balloons filled the horizon in an up and down dance.
Radio communication was a very important part of the pilot’s work where he coordinated with others to ensure not touching other balloons.
At the highest point of our journey we where 800 meters up in the air. The terrain becomes art at this height.
The curvature of the earth is apparent when at high altitudes.
In a show of skills, our pilot coordinates with his colleague and make the balloons touch.
At the end of our adventure the pilot lands on the back of a vehicle and we disembark.
9:00
Our voyage came to a gentle end as we descended back to earth. The beauty of Cappadocia from above was unparalleled—a tapestry of history, geology, and quiet wonder.
8:00 next morning
As the sun rose once again, a beam of light pierced through the aperture in our stone chamber. Outside, a fresh wave of adventurers floated silently overhead in their balloons. A new day and a new journey had begun, the cycle repeating like clockwork in this enchanting land.
