Serengeti Sunrise

The beast wheezed through its enormous lungs, its hissing breath the only sound that pierced the morning sky. They were heavy and erratic, huge fiery gusts that shook my heart alive.

Fifteen of us stood clustered in its bowels, hands clasped tightly to its rough wicker sides and sturdy straps. The beast soared above the African plains, taking us on its migrational journey from sunrise, to breakfast.

We stood transfixed, no one daring to break the spellbinding moments. Way down below us flashes of black and white hurtled through the undergrowth, long limbs cutting paths through the grass in a migratory waltz. Above the golden plains baboons swung from tree to tree, their bright red bottoms signalling the start of the mating season. The plains stretched on into the sunrise and we floated ever closer to the elusive horizon.

The morning air was sharp and fresh, our breath curling out of our mouths like fairies and mingling with the beasts above, filling the huge canvas shell that lifted us into the air. The magic was almost tangible and widened our eyes to the sights and sounds all around us.

"Oh look! Look over there!" Someone exclaimed, finally daring to interrupt the beast's breaths. Binoculars were handed around and we each took a turn marvelling at hippos bathing in the river.

Suddenly the winds picked up speed and we were hurtling ever closer to our final destination. The beast began to descend and tentatively touched the ground, nudging it first to make sure it was sturdy, before landing with a thump. Wind gushed into the balloon, forcing the basket onto its side and dragging us through the grass until at last we came to a stop and the beast bellowed its final breath.

The sun was now high in the sky and we emerged from the hot air balloon's bowels with the knowledge that something magical had happened.