Chasing Rainbows

As I rode along the bike path early yesterday morning, I spotted a series of brightly colored balls hovering above the horizon before me. They looked like rainbows, condensed into something less ephemeral, less transparent. Or maybe they were enormous lollipops, held aloft on sticks the size of skyscrapers.

Of course, I knew they were hot air balloons. I often see them, especially on morning rides. But they are usually a considerable distance away. I think they are launched from Napa Valley, which lies over the ridge I ride toward. The wind was in my face, traveling east from San Francisco Bay, and I concluded it must blown the balloons off course. Later, I saw several white vans with the logo of a balloon tour company sitting alongside the road, apparently tracking the balloons and trying to determine where they would land.

But as I continued on my ride, the balloons passed right over my head, perhaps a hundred feet up or less, and I saw the glint of sunlight off glass from what must have been binoculars. I wondered what I looked like to the occupants of the balloons' baskets. Did they admire my dedication, out riding through miles of open farmland so early on a weekday. Or did they think, as they leisurely floated along, that my industry was ill-spent. Or perhaps they silently prayed that I would send help, as they moved farther off course, at the mercy of the breezes.

I guess I'll never know.