Chasing Balloons in the Adirondacks: A Fall Weekend in Lake George

Sometimes the best weekends are the ones that don't go exactly according to plan.

In September, my cousin and I headed north for a long weekend centered around the Adirondack Balloon Festival, with my daughter joining us later after work.

I had visions of colorful balloons filling the sky against an Adirondack mountain backdrop. Mother Nature had a few ideas of her own.

There was rain. There were cold mornings. There were launches that couldn't happen because of winds we couldn't even feel from the ground.

But there were also beautiful mountain views, Lake George sparkling beneath blue skies, balloons glowing before sunrise, a boat ride, really good food, my first tethered hot-air balloon ride — and eventually, exactly what we had been waiting for: a sky filled with balloons.

And, most importantly, there was time together.

My cousin and I left Thursday morning, beginning the road trip the way so many good road trips seem to start — with a stop at Dunkin before pointing the car north.

Our drive was a rainy one, but we really didn't need to be anywhere at a particular time. So we took our time.

One of the wonderful things about living where I do is that the drive can be beautiful regardless of the weather. We followed U.S. Route 209 toward Kingston, where we would eventually pick up the New York State Thruway. From Ellenville north, Route 209 passes through a string of old Hudson Valley communities including Wawarsing, Kerhonkson, Accord, Stone Ridge and Hurley. Historic homes, old stone buildings, weathered barns and stretches of countryside appear along the way. Even beneath gray skies and steady rain, it is such a lovely drive.

That is one of the things I enjoy most about road trips. The destination matters, of course, but when you aren't racing the clock, the drive itself becomes part of the experience. It starts with the coffee in the cup holder, the scenery outside the window and that feeling you get when home begins disappearing in the rearview mirror.

There is so much history tucked into the little communities along Route 209 that they really deserve more than a passing mention. Maybe one of these days I'll slow down and give some of these historic villages their own Solo Liz Roams posts. For now, though, we kept heading north.

We had already decided before leaving home that Saratoga Springs would be our lunch stop. By the time we arrived, we were definitely ready to get out of the car and fill our bellies.

We chose The Thirsty Owl, a cute tasting room and bistro located in an 1880s residence. My cousin ordered the Penne alla Vodka with chicken, which she seemed to really enjoy. I went with the Sweet Pumpkin Soup and crab cakes. The pumpkin soup was phenomenal. The crab cakes? Eh. I've definitely had better. They were slightly overcooked and darker than I prefer, but the soup more than made up for them.

With full stomachs, we looked outside. Still raining. We had originally planned to walk along Broadway and spend some time exploring downtown Saratoga Springs, but wandering around in the rain didn't sound particularly appealing. Time for Plan B.

We headed to the Saratoga Springs History Museum, located inside the historic Canfield Casino in Congress Park. The building has quite a story of its own.

It was originally built in 1870 as a gambling establishment by John Morrissey, a boxer, politician and businessman who played an important role in Saratoga Springs' development as a fashionable resort destination. Richard Canfield later took over the property and expanded it in 1902–1903, including the addition of its ornate ballroom. Gambling ended there in 1907, and the property was purchased by the village in 1911.

Walking through the building, it isn't difficult to imagine a very different Saratoga Springs — the era of grand hotels, mineral springs, horse racing, elaborate social events and wealthy summer visitors. The setting was almost as interesting as the exhibits.

Instead of walking Broadway as we had planned, we spent a rainy afternoon learning a little more about the history of Saratoga Springs. Not a bad Plan B at all.

Thursday evening's opening festivities were held at Crandall Park in Glens Falls, before the main festival activities shifted to Floyd Bennett Memorial Airport for the rest of the weekend. Thankfully, the rain had significantly lessened by the time we arrived.

A live band was playing, vendors were spread around the park and the official festival merchandise tent was open. Of course, I had to stop. I came away with an official Adirondack Balloon Festival T-shirt and a Christmas ornament. Apparently every good trip needs at least one thing that will eventually end up hanging on my Christmas tree.

The evening was still cold and damp, though, with a light rain continuing to fall. After walking around and enjoying some of the opening-night atmosphere, we decided we had had enough of the chilly weather and called it an early night.

After we left, a couple of balloons did inflate for the evening Moonglow. We missed them. But considering everything still ahead of us that weekend, I wasn't too worried.

The next morning we woke to an entirely different Adirondack day. The sun was out.

We headed into Lake George for breakfast. One thing to keep in mind if you are an early riser: some breakfast spots in the Lake George area open later in the morning, so check hours before heading out — especially if you have a full itinerary planned.

We stopped at Biscotti Brothers Café. I had a strawberry Nutella crepe with home fries and a cappuccino. Definitely a good way to start our first full day in the Lake George area.

Prospect Mountain rises above Lake George Village and offers some of the area's best-known views. Rather than hiking to the summit, we chose the much more relaxed option and drove the Prospect Mountain Veterans Memorial Highway.

The scenic highway winds about 5½ miles up the mountain, with several overlooks along the way. Prospect Mountain itself also has an interesting tourism history: the summit once contained a hotel and sanatorium, and an incline railway once carried visitors up the mountain.

After the gray skies and rain of Thursday, standing up there beneath brilliant blue skies felt like we had started an entirely different trip. Lake George stretched below us with layers of Adirondack mountains beyond it. We stopped. We looked. We took pictures. And then we traded the mountains for the water.

We had booked the 11:00 a.m. cruise aboard the Mohican. It was an absolutely beautiful day to be on Lake George. For me, it had been many years since I had taken a boat ride on the lake. For both Keely and my cousin, it was a first.

We took in the sights, watched the islands and shoreline pass by and simply relaxed for a little while. There was nowhere we needed to rush off to. Just the lake. The mountains. The sunshine. And the view from the deck.

Taking a sightseeing cruise may feel like a modern vacation activity, but passenger boats have been part of Lake George history for more than two centuries. The Lake George Steamboat Company was incorporated in 1817, and its first steamship, the James Caldwell, began operating that same year. The current Mohican II was launched in 1907 and entered service in 1908, replacing an earlier wooden-hulled Mohican. That means our relaxing sightseeing cruise was part of a Lake George passenger-boat tradition stretching back generations.

When we returned to the dock, we wandered through the Lake George Steamboat Company gift shop and did a little shopping before moving on. We had now seen Lake George from above and from the water. Next up: balloons.

We stopped back at the hotel, grabbed warmer clothes and our camp chairs and headed toward Floyd Bennett Memorial Airport in Queensbury. We went early. Very intentionally. The Adirondack Balloon Festival is a free event, and it attracts enormous crowds. Rather than risk ending up far away, we paid $10 to park at a local business across from the airport. For us, it was money well spent. The walk to the festival grounds was quick and easy.

The Adirondack Balloon Festival began in the early 1970s as an idea to attract visitors to the region after the traditional summer tourism season. In 1972, Vermont balloonist John Marsden brought a balloon to Queensbury for an inflation demonstration. The following year, the first Adirondack Hot Air Balloon Festival took place at Adirondack Community College with just 18 participating balloonists. The festival grew rapidly. By the mid-1980s, it had reached as many as 150 balloons, and attendance over the years has climbed into the tens of thousands — and, in some years, well beyond 100,000 people. As the festival grew, the major launches eventually moved to Floyd Bennett Memorial Airport, where they are still held today. And somehow, despite its size, admission remains free.

We wandered through the vendors and then began watching balloon crews set up across the field. I don't think I fully appreciated before this trip just how fascinating it is to watch a hot-air balloon being prepared. The fabric portion of the balloon — the envelope — comes out of what seems like a surprisingly small bag. The crew stretches this enormous amount of colorful fabric across the grass. Then a large fan begins blowing cool air into the envelope. Slowly, it grows. What looked like a pile of fabric only minutes earlier begins taking on the unmistakable shape of a hot-air balloon. Once enough air is inside, the propane burner mounted above the basket is fired. You hear the roar. You feel the heat. The flame heats the air inside the envelope. And then this enormous balloon slowly rises upright above you.

All across the field, the same thing was happening. Small bags became enormous balloons. Fans whirred. Burners roared. Colors appeared everywhere. Kids were running around the field flying kites while families settled into their chairs and blankets. And as the evening continued, the sun began to set beyond the field and surrounding mountains. It was beautiful.

At ground level, the air seemed almost perfectly calm. But hot-air ballooning depends on far more than the conditions we can feel while standing on the grass. Winds higher in the atmosphere made a full launch unsafe. Most of the balloons stayed grounded.

A few did go up and float around the immediate area, giving us at least a small taste of what we had come hoping to see.

Of course we were disappointed that the full launch couldn't happen. But we also wanted the pilots and crews to be safe. No launch or photograph is worth taking unnecessary risks. We simply enjoyed what we did get to see — the balloons, the colors, the sunset, the mountains, the kites, the atmosphere. And we knew we had another chance the next morning.

Yes. 4:30 in the morning. That was when the gates opened for the Saturday sunrise session. And we were there.

We parked at the same business we had used the evening before, giving us another short walk into the airport. We found a great spot near a drainage ditch that gave us almost 360-degree views. From there, balloon crews were setting up in nearly every direction. This may have been one of my favorite parts of the entire festival.

In the darkness before dawn, the burners began to fire. For a few seconds, one balloon would glow from within. Then another. Then several. The giant envelopes looked like colorful lanterns against the dark sky. At the same time, the first faint light of morning began to appear. The sky slowly changed. The outlines of the mountains became visible. And the sun began to rise.

As daylight grew stronger, all of the balloon colors suddenly seemed to pop against the morning sky. And there were so many shapes — Johnny the Panda, Puddles the Penguin, Splash the Penguin, Rock the Penguin, Tall Steve, a polar bear, Pico the Baby Peacock, the Patriot Space Shuttle, an enormous American flag. Everywhere we looked, another balloon seemed to be coming to life. One moment we were watching a burner illuminate an envelope. The next we were turning around because another special-shape balloon had risen behind us. Getting out of bed in the middle of the night suddenly seemed completely reasonable.

Unfortunately, the weather still wasn't cooperating completely. At ground level there was barely any wind. But once again, winds higher in the atmosphere made the planned mass launch unsafe. So the balloons stayed mostly grounded. Were we disappointed? Of course. But we wanted the pilots, crews and passengers to be safe. Instead, we enjoyed wandering among the balloons and watching them inflate beneath the morning sun.

We headed back into Lake George and stopped at The Breakfast Spot. This one was definitely a winner. I ordered chocolate babka French toast filled with Bavarian cream, along with sausage links. Yes, it was as indulgent as it sounds. My cousin had scrambled eggs and a Belgian waffle, and Keely enjoyed the corned beef Eggs Benedict. Everyone was happy.

The restaurant itself is part of the fun. Picture 1940s- and 1950s-inspired décor, classic checkered floors, and a soundtrack that blends big band, swing, jazz, and early R&B with a modern club-style twist. The playful, retro atmosphere gives the restaurant plenty of personality and turns breakfast into more than just a stop for food—it becomes part of the experience. Definitely recommended, especially when you’ve been up since before sunrise!

My cousin and I headed back to Floyd Bennett Memorial Airport around 3:00 p.m. Once again, we wanted to secure parking and settle into the same general area where we had been setting up all weekend. By then it almost felt like our spot.

There was also something I wanted to do. I wanted to ride in a hot-air balloon. The festival was offering tethered balloon rides, so I got in line. For $25, I climbed into the basket with five other people. Slowly, we went up. The ride only lasted a few minutes and the balloon remained tethered to the ground, but the perspective from above was incredible. You could really appreciate the sheer size of the festival grounds and the number of people gathered below — camp chairs, blankets, vendors, balloon crews, people everywhere. It was such a fun experience.

And apparently a few minutes in a tethered balloon was enough to create another item for my travel list. I am now seriously thinking about finding a pilot to take me on a full hot-air balloon flight. Stay tuned.

After my ride, I met back up with my cousin and we wandered around the field watching balloon crews prepare. We knew the routine by now — envelopes out, fabric across the grass, fans blowing, burners roaring, balloons rising. But this time something was different. The weather was cooperating. Finally.

Balloons began lifting off. One after another. And suddenly the sky was filled with color. It was so much fun to watch. Every direction offered another view. Balloons floated above the field as the evening light changed and the Adirondacks created the perfect backdrop. Off in the distance were Sugarloaf, Pilot Knob, Buck Mountain, Erebus and Sleeping Beauty.

As the sun dropped lower, the light softened. Blue shifted toward gold and pink. The mountains became darker silhouettes. And the balloons remained bright against the evening sky. After spending the weekend waiting and wondering if we would ever get to see a real launch, this was the moment we had been hoping for. It was worth the wait.

As darkness settled over the festival grounds, several balloons set up near the stage for the evening Moonglow. During a Moonglow, the balloons do not fly. Instead, they remain on the ground while the pilots rhythmically fire their propane burners, causing the enormous envelopes to glow from within. The pilots fire the burners in rhythm, often synchronized with music, turning the grounded balloons into giant illuminated lanterns.

One moment they were dark silhouettes. Then — WHOOSH. The burners fired. The balloons lit up. Darkness again. Then another blast of flame. Several balloons glowing together. After everything we had experienced over the weekend, it was the perfect finale. What an awesome way to round out the weekend.

There was supposed to be one more launch on Sunday morning, but Mother Nature had one final opinion. The rain returned, and the sunrise launch was canceled.

After a very early morning and a long Saturday evening at the festival, I can’t say we were completely heartbroken about getting a little extra sleep. More importantly, we didn’t feel like we had missed out.

Over the course of the weekend, we had experienced almost every possible version of a balloon festival: rain, cold, grounded balloons, partial launches, sunrise inflations, special-shape balloons, a tethered balloon ride, a successful evening launch and finally a Moonglow beneath the night sky.

We had definitely gotten the experience. And in a way, the unpredictable weather made the weekend more memorable. We learned quickly that ballooning happens on Mother Nature’s schedule, not ours. There were moments when everything looked perfectly calm from where we were standing, only to learn that conditions higher in the atmosphere made it unsafe for the pilots to fly. Of course we wanted to see the balloons in the sky, but we wanted the pilots, crews and passengers to be safe more.

So we adjusted.

We waited.

We enjoyed the balloons on the ground.

And when the weather finally did cooperate Saturday evening, watching them lift off one after another against the Adirondack sky felt even more special because we had waited for it.

When I think back on the weekend, though, the balloons are only part of what made it special. The most important part was simply spending time with my cousin and my daughter. There were the big moments, of course—Prospect Mountain, our cruise on the Mohican, getting up before dawn to watch the balloon field come to life, my tethered balloon ride, and finally seeing the sky filled with color.

But there were also all of the smaller moments in between.

Driving through the rain.

Sharing meals.

Sitting together on the balloon field.

Talking while we waited.

Laughing.

Wandering through Lake George.

Relaxing by the waterfront.

Watching the mountains and the changing sky.

And simply having nowhere else we needed to be for a little while.

Those are the moments I appreciate just as much as the ones that make the best photographs.

My daughter was only able to join us for part of the weekend, and I was so glad she could experience Lake George and some of the Balloon Festival with us.

And having a few days away with my cousin—exploring, relaxing, talking and making new memories together—was something I valued every bit as much as anything we saw.

Travel has a way of giving us time together that everyday life doesn’t always allow. Sometimes the destination gives us the excuse.

But the real gift is the time.