Aerostat

It is 1906 and you are standing in a wicker basket under two thousand cubic metres of hydrogen, flying for pure distance. There is no engine and no rudder — only what an aeronaut really had: pour sand to rise, open the valve to sink, trail the drag rope, and choose when to come down. Steering is altitude. The sky is stacked with wind streams running different ways at different heights, so every climb is a bet that the faster river up there is worth the sand it costs. Sun lifts you free by day; rain soaks the silk; a sea crossing is a commit point. Five stages, plus an endless record attempt.

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