Geneva pastor known for ballooning

At 1,200 feet in the air, it’s perfectly silent to Geneva balloonist Mark Ammerman as he glides over homes and fields in his one-seater hot air balloon.

On the ground, it’s a different story. People peer out of their windows, wave and try to yell up to him from driveways, snap photos on their phones for social media.

“You’re the one who flew over my house!” neighbors exclaim as he picks up his coffee at a local Tim Hortons. “People know my name and I’ve never seen them before,” Ammerman said.

Sometimes he’ll get the coffee for free.

“Everybody believes the balloonist is a nice guy,” he said.

He’s had a passion for ballooning for years, but only recently discovered the Cloudhopper, a one-seater version which stands about three stories tall — half the size of a regular hot air balloon.

The propane tank sits underneath the bench-style seat while the gas blasts into the balloon above Ammerman’s head. There is less regulation on Cloudhoppers than regular balloons, which require pilot licenses from leading balloonists, but not just anyone can go up in a one-seater balloon and know what they’re doing, he said.

“It’s like the sports car of hot air balloons,” he said. “It’s easier to control but faster.”

He had one custom-made by a Vermont balloonist, and when the wind is right — it has to be between three to seven miles an hour – he finds a field to take off from and has his wife Kathy trail behind him in the car until he lands.

“He says that if you’re not intimidated by life, why are you bothering with it?” said Kathy Ammerman. As much as she enjoys watching her husband fly off over the treetops, she’s just fine staying on terra firma.

“They asked if he wanted a one-seater or two-seater, and I looked at them and said, ‘he’ll take one,’” she said.

But Ammerman isn’t just a daredevil. He pastors a Faith Community Church in Geneva, and acts as a hospice chaplain, comforting those who are living their last hours. He also teaches a class on death and dying at Monroe Community College.

“Sometimes, I just need to get away from all,” he said. “Up there, nobody can call me…you just get up there and see the beauty of creation.”

Employees at his local Tim Hortons coffee shop were excited to hear that Ammerman had bought his balloon after hearing him talk about it when he comes in for his daily, sometimes twice daily, cup of joe.

“He’s a gentleman that’s been coming here for years,” said assistant manager Jan Decker. “He tells us where he’s going to be and putting the balloon up...He gets so excited when he talks about it.”

Ammerman flies year round, even in the snow — he just has to keep the balloon’s fabric dry to avoid mildew, he said.

He must have flat ground to take off and land, and fields must be without cattle, which are easy to spook, and without fractured leftovers of harvested corn stalks, which can puncture the balloon.

He usually flies the balloon in Geneva and tries to ask residents for use of their property for ballooning before he lands, but sometimes that’s just not possible. For those cases, he brings a bottle of champagne.

It’s been customary for decades to offer a landowner champagne upon landing in their yard. Once, a farmer came striding up to Ammerman with a scowl on his face minutes after Ammerman had touched down in his field.

“He didn’t look too happy, but then he asked, ‘where’s my champagne?’” said Ammerman. “He had heard all about it.”

STADDEO@Gannett.com