I floated on toward the south, past the town of Moreau and out over the countryside. There were a lot of trees, and nowhere very suitable to land. Following in the truck, David and my crew had a hard time keeping me in sight.

In addition to my own crew, I had accumulated the crew of another balloon that had landed nearby, as well as passersby who had joined the chase and curious neighbors. The winds were still calm, so we spent an hour letting everyone get into my harness and go up on tether.

Afterwards we attended the balloonist's awards luncheon, where I was awarded the Sportsman's Trophy for my unique contribution to the festival. Or possibly it was to recognize my having attended the festival three different years and only flown a single flight -- that was probably a record of some kind. Certainly I was the only balloonist who could honestly say that the one flight had been worth it.

After that, we went back to the airport, where David, Lori and Chip helped put away the helium tanks and dispose of the sandbags. They left for home, and I went back to the motel for a much-needed nap. Later I had dinner with some balloonist friends.

The next morning, I put all of my equipment into boxes and sent it back to San Diego. Then I drove down to Albany to catch an afternoon flight home. The sky was already filling with dark clouds. The forecast called for rain by evening.