heat up the helium, so that later it decreases in volume, becomes heavier and lowers [1].

We - Joan, Hall and I - joined hands and hugged the three of us. It was time to go.

8.thirty

Everyone saw him at the same time. The moment we pulled onto the dirt road leading to the Moroccan air base, it appeared like a new mosque had grown overnight. A magnificent snow-white sphere, like a mother-of-pearl dome, towered above the leaning dusty palms. This was our balloon. In the direction of the air base, riders galloped along the side of the road with weapons over their shoulders. Everyone's attention was riveted on this gigantic, radiant white sphere hanging high in the air.

9.15

The protection of the balloon was removed, and an amazing crowd of people gathered around the perimeter of the fence. On one side, the entire air base personnel lined up in close rows, dressed in fashionable dark blue uniforms. In front of them, according to the Moroccan custom, were invited dancing women in white headscarves, shouting, welcoming. Then a group of riders dressed in Yerber costumes and brandishing ancient muskets came into view and also lined up in front of the balloon. At some point, a terrible thought occurred to me that if they fired a celebratory volley from their weapons, they would pierce the ball. Per, Alex and I gathered in the gondola and checked all the systems one last time. The sun was rising rapidly, and the helium began to expand in volume.

10.15

We checked everything and were ready to go. I hugged Joan, Holly and Sam for the last time. I was struck by the strength of Joan's spirit. Holly has been by my side these past four days, and she seemed to be in complete control of herself too. I thought it was Sam, but suddenly he burst into tears and pulled me towards him, refusing to let go. I almost cried with him. I will never forget the agonizing strength of his embrace. Then he kissed me, released me and hugged Joan. I ran across the playground to kiss my mother and say goodbye to my father. Mom put a letter in my hand. "Open it in six days." - she said. I mentally expressed the hope that we would last that long.

10.50

It remains only to raise the steel ladder. I hesitated for a second, wondering when and where my foot would land again—whether on solid ground, or perhaps in water? There was no time to think. I stepped through the hatch. Per was at the controls, I was at the video equipment, and Alex was in the seat by the front door.

eleven.19

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five... Per was counting down, and I focused my attention on the cameras. The hand quickly checked the parachute buckle. I старался не думать об огромном воздушном шаре над нами и об этих шести объемных топливных баках, прикрепленных к корпусу гондолы. Four, three, two, one... and Per actuated a lever that ignited the anchors, detached the anchor lines, and we quickly and silently took to the skies. There was no roar of burners; our ascent was like a child's balloon rising up. We just soared into the sky, higher and further, and then, as soon as we caught the morning breeze, we left Marrakesh far below.

The back door was still open, and we waved to the people below, who were now quite small. Every detail of Marrakesh, its pink rectangular walls, large town square, green courtyards and fountains hidden behind high walls, all spread out below us. At 10,000 feet it was cold and the air was getting thinner. We closed the drop door. From that moment on, we were on our own. We made a pressurization, because the pressure had to increase even more.

We received the first fax just after noon.

- Oh my God! Per handed it to us. - Take a look at this.

“Please note that the fuel tank release locks are locked,” I read.

This was our first mistake. The locks had to be unlocked. If we were in trouble and started to fall, we could drop a tonne of fuel tank as ballast.

“If that's our only mistake, it's not so bad,” I said, trying to cheer Per up.

“We need to get down to 5,000 feet and then I'll get up and disengage them,” Alex said. - It's not a problem.

During the day, it was impossible to drop the height, since the sun heated the helium. The only thing that would make it possible to do this quickly would be to release helium, which would then be impossible to recover. Lose helium. Therefore, we decided to wait until nightfall to descend. It gave us no peace. We did not know how the flight would go at night, and the probability of avoiding trouble, having blocked fuel tanks on board, was small.

Although Alex and I tried to figure out how to deal with the fuel tanks, Per became depressed. He sat hunched over the controls in gloomy silence, speaking only when he was asked a direct question.

We flew the rest of the day in a cloudless sky. The views of the Atlas Mountains were pleasing to the eye: their jagged peaks, covered with snow, gleamed in the rays of a delightful sunset. Our gondola, stuffed with all sorts of gadgets for an eighteen-day trip, twitched. It was a warning that blocking the fuel tanks wasn't the only thing we forgot about. We also didn't bother to take toilet paper with us, so we had to wait for faxes before we could go down the spiral staircase and use the toilet. After Moroccan food, I needed a lot of faxes. Per kept an angry silence, and Alex and I were just grateful that we found out about the fuel tanks when the situation could still be corrected.

Approaching the Algerian border, we experienced a shock for the second time. The Algerians reported that we were heading straight for Bekar, their main military base, and that you could not fly over it. "You are strictly forbidden to enter the territory." faxed.

There was no choice.

For about two hours I was on satellite phone with Mike Kendrick, our flight inspector, trying to contact various British ministers. IN конце концов, Андре Азоулей, марокканский министр, который улаживал все наши проблемы, связанные с запуском аэростата с территории Morocco, снова пришел нам на выручку. He explained to the Algerians that we could not change our route and that there were no powerful cameras on board. They accepted this explanation and relented.

Since there was good news, I made notes in my logbook. Turning the page, he immediately saw the following entry, written in bold ink by Sam's hand: “Dad. Hope you're having a great time. Have a safe journey. Lots of love for you. Your son Sam. I вспомнил, что он залезал без меня в гондолу накануне вечером.

Now it's clear why.

By 5 pm we were still flying at thirty,000 feet. Per started lighting the burners to heat the air inside the shell. Though we've been doing this for an hour, just after 6 pm the balloon began to steadily lose height.

"Something's wrong here," Per said.

- What's the matter? I asked.

- Don't know.

Per constantly heated the air, but the balloon continued to descend. We lost 1,000 feet, then another 500. After sunset, it got colder and colder. It was clear that the helium was rapidly shrinking into dead weight above us.

“We need to get rid of the ballast,” Per said.

He was scared. We, too. We set in motion the levers that allowed us to drop the lead pigs that were at the bottom of the gondola. This meant that we were left without a reserve for almost two weeks. The pigs fell out of the gondola, I saw them on the video screen; they fell like bombs. I had a terrible feeling that this was the beginning of the end. The gondola was larger than the ones we flew over the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, but it remained the same metal box, suspended from a huge shell at the mercy of winds and bad weather.

It was already getting dark. Without ingots, the balloon held its altitude for some time, but then began to descend again. This time the fall was faster. In a minute we lost 2,000 feet, the next minute the same. My ears were blocked, and I felt that my stomach was rising somewhere up, experiencing the resistance of the chest. We were only 15,000 feet high. I старался сохранять спокойствие, все свое внимание сконцентрировав на работе камер и показаниях высотомера, которые стремительно выходили за пределы допустимых. We needed to drop the fuel tanks. But that meant the end of the journey. I закусил губу. We were in pitch darkness somewhere over the Atlas Mountains, the crash seemed inevitable. Everyone was silent. I быстро произвел вычисления.

“At this rate of fall, we still have seven minutes,” I said.

“Good,” said Per. - Open the hatch cover and depressurize.

We opened the front door at 12,000 feet, which immediately dropped to eleven,000. With a breathtaking onslaught of frosty air, the gondola depressurized. Alex and I started throwing everything overboard: food, water, oil cans, everything that wasn't built in. All. Even stacks of dollars. This stopped the fall for five minutes. It was no longer about continuing the flight. We just had to save our lives.

"That's not enough," I said, seeing the altimeter reading drop to 9,000 feet. We are still falling.

- OK. I пошел на крышу, - сказал Алекс. “It’s time for the fuel tanks.

Since Alex had practically built the gondola, he knew exactly how