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36
NORTHERN NEPAL
The flames leapt up in the brazier’s interior, disappearing through the balloon’s mouth, until Sam and Remi were floating at knee height above the plateau.
“When I say so, push with everything you’ve got,” Sam said.
He stuffed the last two pieces of wicker into the brazier and watched, waited, eyes darting from the brazier to the balloon to the ground.
“Now!”
In unison, they coiled their legs and shoved hard.
They surged upward ten feet. Then descended just as rapidly.
“Get ready to push again!” Sam called.
Their feet struck the ice.
“Push!”
Again they shot upward and again they returned to earth, albeit more slowly.
“We’re getting there,” Sam said.
“We need a rhythm,” Remi replied. “Think, bouncing ball.”
So they began bouncing over the plateau, each time gaining a bit more altitude. To their left, the edge of the cliff loomed.
“Sam . . .” Remi warned.
“I know. Don’t look, just keep bouncing. Fly or swim!”
“Lovely!”
They shoved off once more. A gust of wind caught the balloon and shoved them down the plateau, their feet skipping over the ice. Remi’s leg slipped off the edge of the cliff, but she kept her cool, giving one last united shove with the other leg.
And then, abruptly, everything went silent save the wind whistling through the guylines.
They were airborne and climbing.
And heading southeast toward the slope.
Sam reached into the duffel and withdrew a pair of bricks. He fed them into the brazier. They heard a soft whoosh as the brick ignited. Flames shot from the flue. They began rising.
“Another,” Remi said.
Sam dropped a third brick into the brazier.
Whoosh! The balloon climbed.
The pine trees were a few hundred yards away and closing fast. A gust of wind caught the balloon and spun it. Sam and Remi clutched at the guylines and tightened their legs around the platform. After three rotations, the platform steadied and went still again.
Looking over Remi’s shoulder, Sam gauged the distance to the slope.
“How close?” Remi asked.
“About two hundred yards. Ninety seconds, give or take.” He looked her in the eye. “It’s going to be razor thin. Go for broke?”
NORTHERN NEPAL
The flames leapt up in the brazier’s interior, disappearing through the balloon’s mouth, until Sam and Remi were floating at knee height above the plateau.
“When I say so, push with everything you’ve got,” Sam said.
He stuffed the last two pieces of wicker into the brazier and watched, waited, eyes darting from the brazier to the balloon to the ground.
“Now!”
In unison, they coiled their legs and shoved hard.
They surged upward ten feet. Then descended just as rapidly.
“Get ready to push again!” Sam called.
Their feet struck the ice.
“Push!”
Again they shot upward and again they returned to earth, albeit more slowly.
“We’re getting there,” Sam said.
“We need a rhythm,” Remi replied. “Think, bouncing ball.”
So they began bouncing over the plateau, each time gaining a bit more altitude. To their left, the edge of the cliff loomed.
“Sam . . .” Remi warned.
“I know. Don’t look, just keep bouncing. Fly or swim!”
“Lovely!”
They shoved off once more. A gust of wind caught the balloon and shoved them down the plateau, their feet skipping over the ice. Remi’s leg slipped off the edge of the cliff, but she kept her cool, giving one last united shove with the other leg.
And then, abruptly, everything went silent save the wind whistling through the guylines.
They were airborne and climbing.
And heading southeast toward the slope.
Sam reached into the duffel and withdrew a pair of bricks. He fed them into the brazier. They heard a soft whoosh as the brick ignited. Flames shot from the flue. They began rising.
“Another,” Remi said.
Sam dropped a third brick into the brazier.
Whoosh! The balloon climbed.
The pine trees were a few hundred yards away and closing fast. A gust of wind caught the balloon and spun it. Sam and Remi clutched at the guylines and tightened their legs around the platform. After three rotations, the platform steadied and went still again.
Looking over Remi’s shoulder, Sam gauged the distance to the slope.
“How close?” Remi asked.
“About two hundred yards. Ninety seconds, give or take.” He looked her in the eye. “It’s going to be razor thin. Go for broke?”
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