Friday AM

Mangakino say the sponsors. Mangakino. two hours driving to a town where you can't fly because it's surrounded by lakes and mile upon mile of pine trees. With all apologies to Mangakino, the idea of getting out of bed at four in the morning to go and do a tethered flight in the middle of nowhere seemed more of a young man's game. So we didn't go. Note to said sponsor Mighty River Power: if you are going to sponsor an event, do just that - don't start dictating to the entrants that they have to take passengers every single day and then have to travel to far-flung spots (and some were seriously flung - like to Turangi, a full three hours down the island) with nary a petrol voucher in sight. Note to event organisers: send the locals who haven't travelled to get to the event and younger balloonists who are up to the early-morning travel to these distant spots. Turangi. For Pete's sake.

Anyways, having got alot of that grumble off our chest the previous evening, we ambled out to a launch spot with the intention of a lake fly-over and then on. Newby today was associate Sir Michael from Auckland, then Denis (obviously) Dave and Daisy, Lissie, and then I clambered in. Which left no one to drive, but that was okay, because it was a better day for flying than driving anyways.

We launched and flew in tandem with the Bransgroves in Remax, coming over the lake watching the eerie swirl of patterns on the water. As it turned out the last few feet above the lake was really hard to break through, but D slid it down and gently into the water - the soles of our feet were gently dampened.

Then we flew on through what were fairly flukey conditions. It become clear that we were going to need a sort of quick drop and glide for the landing and Denis chose the number two ground at Waikato Stadium. When you've flown with Denis so many times, you kind of take for granted his experience, but that landing just reminds you that he's been doing it for a long time and he's very good at it. The drop took us to the goal line at one end of the field, the glide then swept along its length, keeping the light standards to our right, and then with a final drop, mindful of the grounds staff pride in their pitch, plonked it down over the goal line like a showboating centre-threequarter with about the same impact. Not a skidmark in sight and handy enough to the posts for the conversion. Perfect.

Then Denis called a cab to go and get the vehicle, and I put a scorch in the scoop because I didn't turn off the pilot light before we pulled down. Doh! Kind of reminds ya who the experts really are.