Explore Mallorca from the sky
I’ve always been a traveler, but nothing prepared me for the moment we gently lifted off from the fields near Manacor, Mallorca, just as the sky began to blush pink. My heart pounded—not with fear, but with wonder—as the basket rose beneath my feet and the burner roared as flames shot up. This wasn’t just another adventure—it felt like flying for the first time.
We met at 7 AM at the Globodromo near Manacor (A special airport for balloons, off MA‑15 exit 44), along with half a dozen other early risers. A multilingual pilot offered a quick safety briefing in English and Spanish. Within thirty minutes of preparations, the balloon stood tall and I was stepping aboard its wicker cradle.
As the burner lit and the balloon rose everyone got quiet. Below, olive groves, sunflower patches and orange orchards sprawled until they merged with the turquoise rim of the Mediterranean. At about 300–500 m above ground, we drifted across the rural heart of Mallorca, and in the distance, the dim outlines of Cabrera and Menorca.
Floating silently—except for the occasional whoosh of the burner—felt like time had slowed. A cava in hand, the sky wore morning’s pastel palette: pinks, golds, and gentle blues folding over each layer of sky. In that moment, the world seemed vast and intimate all at once. On clear days, our pilot explained, you can see islands far beyond—on mine, I spotted Cabrera just beyond the coast.
The flight lasted about an hour, but it stretched into something timeless. Every few minutes, our pilot, Jordi—whose résumé spans over thirty years—adjusted altitude to catch the desired wind currents. We drifted toward Felanitx, skimming over fields in that peaceful dawn hush.
Then came the landing. Baskets touch down gently at first, only to bounce once or twice, tamed by Jordi’s steady voice guiding us to crouch and lean in. I landed in a finca field.
Once the balloon was deflated, we shared a ritual flight “baptism”—champagne for us, a hearty handshake for Jordi—and earned our flight certificates. Some providers even include a breakfast of fruit, pastries, local treats, and coffee, though ours opted for cava.
The entire experience—from check‑in to return—spanned around three to four hours. It’s essential to arrive early (15 minutes before lift), wear layers and sneakers (no flip‑flops!), and prepare for sunrise weather that might still be brisk before that burner’s heat warms you up.
Of course, the wild card is weather. Mallorca’s skies can shift in a heartbeat—too windy or low-visibility, and flights are postponed. I personally had one rescheduled in January, but it only made the eventual sunrise all the sweeter.
Emerging from the basket, champagne in hand, I felt transformed. This wasn’t just sightseeing—it was a humbling reminder of how utterly magnificent our world is when seen from above. In that breathless hour floating across Mallorca, I touched a kind of freedom I’ll chase for the rest of my days.