Still on the ground

An original literary non-fiction-style account of a postponed hot-air balloon flight.

We arrived while the field was still blue with dawn. The basket lay beside a long bag, and I began photographing both as if we were already airborne. Across the hedge, the road was quiet. A passenger remarked that it was a perfect morning. The pilot acknowledged him but continued watching a narrow ribbon attached to a pole.

She released a small balloon and followed its movement until it was difficult to see. Near the ground, the ribbon had scarcely stirred. Higher up, the balloon travelled quickly towards the dark ridge beyond the field. She checked her weather information again and spoke to a colleague by radio. I could hear only her half of the exchange: a place name, a question about the wind and then a long silence while she listened.

When she announced that we would wait, somebody pointed to the still hedge. She walked over and stood beside him. The conditions at our feet, she explained, were only part of what mattered. She would also need somewhere suitable to land, and she could not select a landing place simply because it looked convenient on a map. The colleague was checking the other side of the ridge.

By now, the sky had become the clear gold I had hoped to photograph. Our driver said that a cancellation would mean bringing everyone back another day. The pilot nodded. She did not begin unpacking the main balloon. When the radio sounded again, she asked one final question and then told us the flight would be postponed.

On the journey home, I looked through my pictures. They showed a beautiful sky, a motionless hedge and a basket that had never left the ground. None showed the wind above the ridge. I had mistaken the limits of my view for the limits of the morning.

Explain why the pilot postpones the flight despite the apparently pleasant conditions.