Right in the heart of London, near the London Eye, there’s a tethered helium balloon called the “iFly” (yes, a terribly ironic name for something that moves at zero miles per hour). You won’t drift over the countryside; you just go straight up, 400 feet, on a cable. But here’s the kicker: it’s quiet. Eerily quiet.
While the traffic snarls below and the River Thames looks like a sluggish brown snake, you’re suspended in silence. The chatter of the city fades, and you actually hear the wind. I stood next to a guy from Texas who whispered, “This ain’t no hot air balloon, but I’ll take it.” He wasn’t wrong. It’s a mockery of true flight, but a beautiful one.
If you want the real deal—the one with the propane burners and actual drifting—you have to break out of the city limits. But even the tethered version offers a perspective that no skyscraper can: you see London curve, not just stack up.
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So, what’s it like to actually be a hot air balloon passenger in London? First, you must accept that you look like a giant, colorful lampshade from the ground. That’s fine. You are today’s spectacle. Children will wave; pigeons will (rudely) ignore you.
Then there’s the weather. In London, this is a punchline. The season for ballooning is basically “the two weeks in May when it doesn’t rain and the wind decides to be polite.” Pilots check the weather more obsessively than a bride checks her wedding guest list. If the wind is too strong—poof—your romantic flight is postponed until October. Don’t you just love British pragmatism?
Balloon trip london | Mattgrangerphotography.com
And the landing? It’s not a landing. It’s a controlled crash into a field that probably belongs to some grumpy farmer. The basket bounces, you wobble, and suddenly you’re hugging strangers you met 45 minutes ago. It’s awkward, hilarious, and perfectly messy.
