For some people, a hot air balloon ride is one of the most peaceful adventures they will ever experience. It is meant to be slow and gentle, almost dreamlike. The balloon is lifted by warm air and guided quietly by the wind.
From above, the world looks kinder. Buildings shrink into neat shapes. Roads curve like lines drawn by hand. Cars move slowly, like toys.
People become tiny dots going about their day. There is often laughter in the basket, cameras clicking, the low roar of gas flames overhead, and a shared feeling that time has slowed down just for you. The experience is often described as magical.
Before the ride begins, you are carefully briefed. You are told what to expect, how to stand, when to bend your knees, how the landing will feel. You sign a waiver that clearly explains the risks. The operators speak with confidence and calm. They have done this many times before. When everything is done right, a hot air balloon ride feels safe, joyful and unforgettable.
This is what Wambui Maina anticipated when she left her house that Sunday morning, before dawn, for an adventurous hot air balloon trip. Nothing prepared her for the horror that awaited her, one that left her visibly shaken.
Wambui describes herself as curious, bold and open to new experiences. Over the years, she has climbed Mount Kenya, gone paragliding, tried jet skiing and taken part in other daring escapades. She understands that adventure always comes with risk. But she also believes that risk must be managed with care, skill and honesty.
“This one did not feel like an adventure,” Wambui says quietly. “It felt unsafe.”
The ride was a birthday gift from her work team. They had gone out of their way to plan something special, something they believed matched her adventurous spirit. They got the voucher in advance and gifted Wambui who appreciated the effort and the thought behind it. “I received a booking confirmation with a date from the company, that was all.”
The confirmation suggested a peaceful early morning flight. “It included notes about reporting time, clothing and an estimated flight duration. But it offered very little detail about safety procedures, equipment or what the experience would truly involve,” says Wambui.
On Saturday night, just hours before the trip, Wambui received a call. She was asked to confirm that she would be available at 6 am on Sunday.
During the call, she asked several questions. “How high would the balloon go? How many people would be in the basket?” She also asked about safety instructions and waivers. Only one question was answered. She was told to enter Uhuru Park through Gate D near the expressway.
On Sunday morning, Wambui arrived at exactly six o'clock. The park was quiet and still. The sky was pale and heavy with early morning clouds. She expected to find a small group of people preparing for flight. Instead, she found that she was the only one.
“The basket attached to the balloon was small. Based on its size, I assumed the ride was designed for one passenger and the operator,” explains Wambui. The size didn’t worry her, but after waiting for a few minutes without being attended too, she began to get concerned.
“The team struggled to get the balloon ready. First, they used a large fan to push air into the fabric. Later, they lit the fire to heat the air and help the balloon rise. The wind kept pushing against them. The balloon refused to cooperate. Minutes passed. Then an hour. Then two. They said the wind was strong that morning and that is why it took so long,” Wambui recalls.
By the time the balloon was finally ready, it was close to eight in the morning. The calm sunrise moment had passed. Clouds were gathering. The air felt heavier, but the wind was still blowing.
When the operator finally asked her to get into the basket, there was no proper platform or sturdy step. She climbed in by stepping on wooden stumps placed on the ground. It felt improvised and rushed. “Nothing like what I had experienced in other adventure settings.”
Only once she was inside the basket did she fully understand what the ride would be like. There were no seats. She would be standing the entire time. There was no harness securing her to the basket. Nothing held her in place except her balance and her grip.
That is when she asked again for clear instructions. She was told they would go up to about 300 feet, enjoy views of Nairobi skyscrapers and then make a soft landing. “The operator mentioned that the wind was strong that morning, which had caused the delay, but said everything was fine to proceed.” She recalls being affirmed.
The safety briefing followed, it was short to the point of being alarming.
“I was told was to keep my hand on the rope until he told me to let go,” Wambui says. “That was it. I did not sign any waiver.”
Before she had time to process what that meant, the fire was ignited. The balloon began to rise.
The first thing she noticed was the heat. “The flame was closer than I expected. I could feel it on my head and along my arms as I held tightly onto the ropes. The basket lifted slowly. For a brief moment, it felt manageable. The city started to sink below my feet and I began thinking that all was going to be well after all,” says Wambui.
Then the movement changed. The basket stopped rising smoothly. It leaned to one side, then another in jerky motions. Each time Wambui spoke up or asked what was happening, the response was the same. “Hand on the rope.”
The basket tilted again. The heat from the flame continued to press down on her head and arms. There was no harness to catch her if she lost balance and the basket walls weren’t high enough to protect her body. She could clearly imagine herself toppling over the edge.
“I was scared,” she says. “You could feel that something was not right.”
Wambui Maina, in her 30s, during a hot air balloon ride at Uhuru Park on 21st of December 2025 for her birthday.
Photo credit: File | Nation Media Group
As fear tightened in her chest, something else happened that left her stunned. She noticed a couple jogging through the park below, looking up at the balloon in admiration. “The operator shouted down to them not to leave because he would take them next.”
“I was trembling,” Wambui says. “I could not believe he was talking about another ride while this one was already going wrong.”
The balloon never reached the height she had been promised. Later, the operator said the highest point was 130 feet. “I could not tell how high we were.” She only knew they were still tethered to the ground by ropes on all sides. Inside the basket were two people, herself and the operator, along with four gas cylinders. Then came the moment that changed everything. The gas ran out.
When the operator tried to reignite it, nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. Wambui looked at his face and saw the shock there. “That is when my hands froze. Not numb. Just frozen. Like my nerves gave up.”
The operator announced they had to do an emergency landing. There was no explanation or clear instruction for her to follow. This was barely 10 minutes into what was meant to be a 30-minute flight. “As the heat faded, the balloon began to descend slowly. Without hot air, it was completely at the mercy of the wind. At one point, the basket tilted sharply. I thought we were going to fall out,” Wambui says.
When she asked what was happening, the operator told her to relax and repeated the same instruction. “Hand on the rope.”
Suddenly the wind got stronger and with the turbulence came rain. Wambui couldn’t take it anymore and demanded to be let out. When the balloon dropped low enough, she jumped off, landed safely on her feet and ran off. “I did not look back,” she says. “I just wanted to go home.”
Although Wambui was not injured physically, she was shattered emotionally. For hours, she sat in silence, replaying every moment. She imagined what could have gone wrong. “What if the basket had tipped further? What if the rope had slipped from my hands? What if the balloon had dropped faster?”
Later that day, she contacted the operator to complain. The response blamed bad weather, strong winds and rain. They said they had considered cancelling but decided to push on. They offered her a rescheduled flight.
“That response worried me even more,” Wambui says. “If you thought of cancelling, why did you not?”
For Wambui, this experience exposed deeper public safety issues. In every other high-risk activity she has done, safety came first. “If I had been told beforehand that the only safety measure was holding a rope, I would have walked away,” she says.
She hopes her experience will spark conversation and closer scrutiny of adventure tourism in the city. Because when a ride that is meant to feel magical turns frightening, it is not just one person at risk. “I am grateful I walked away safe,” she says. “But this could have ended very differently.”
What makes a hot air balloon safe and sky-ready
Githae Mwaniki, Accountable Manager, Air Balloon Services Kenya (ABS), explains that a hot air balloon is not a novelty craft but a fully recognised aircraft under aviation law.
“Hot air balloons fall under the category of lighter-than-air aircraft, alongside airships. They are not winged, but they generate lift by being less dense than the surrounding air.”
Githae explains that flight is controlled entirely by temperature.
“As the burner heats the air inside the envelope, the balloon becomes lighter than the surrounding atmosphere and lifts off. Ascent is controlled by increasing heat, descent by reducing it, and landing is achieved through gradual venting of hot air using the parachute valve.”
Mwaniki emphasises that balloon safety is anchored on three pillars: maintenance, weather, and operational readiness.
“Before any flight, the first confirmation is that the balloon is airworthy. That means it has valid maintenance certification, a properly updated technical log, and that any defects noted on previous flights have been rectified through scheduled or unscheduled maintenance.”
Weather, he says, is non-negotiable. “Wind and rain are the most critical factors. Balloons cannot operate in rain, and each balloon has a maximum surface wind limit defined in its flight manual. If those limits are exceeded, the flight must be cancelled.
For commercial operations, Mwaniki says maintenance is tightly regulated.
“Commercial hot air balloons undergo a full maintenance inspection every 100 flight hours. If those hours are not reached, an annual inspection is mandatory. In addition, there are intermediate checks at 25 and 50 hours.”
Mwaniki notes that most of the safety burden rests with the operator, not the passenger.
“The advantage of balloon operations is that passenger safety is largely managed by the operator. Proper maintenance, pilot fitness, crew coordination and site inspection significantly reduce risk.”
Pilots, he adds, must also meet strict licensing and fatigue standards.
“A pilot must be properly licensed, medically fit, adequately rested and operating within the privileges of their licence for the specific class of balloon.”
All hot air balloons operating in Kenya must meet the national airworthiness code.
“Balloons are aircraft, so they must have acceptable type certification. Kenya recognises certifications from the FAA (US), EASA (Europe), the UK Civil Aviation Authority, Transport Canada and Brazil’s aviation authority.”
Before launch, pilots follow strict checklists. “There are specific pre-flight checks on the basket, fuel cylinders, burner hoses, envelope, suspension lines and parachute valve. These checks are done methodically, assisted by the ground crew, before passengers ever step into the basket.”
Additional design features may be added to a balloon depending on terrain. “For areas like the Maasai Mara or Amboseli, manufacturers may reinforce baskets, frames and envelopes to withstand higher winds and rougher terrain. These are operator-specific specifications added when ordering the balloon.”
