Yes, we had to get up at 3.30 a.m., gulp a Turkish coffee on the Rooftop and hit the road. But by about 6.30, this was the scene. Moran , our trusty 'pilot' is shooting blasts of hot air into the balloon that will take us over 'bitronot Ruhama' (the Ruhama Badlands). Anticipation among the ballooners - a mixed bunch of young couples, friends, a father and daughter (and us) - is running high.
With the balloon beginning to rise, we clamber into the padded cubicles that make up the basket - and, almost imperceptibly, the whole contraption rises into the air.
At first you are at tree top level.
Then, without noticing, a little higher, and able to make out the patterns on the mosaic floor of a Byzantine church.
And before you can say Phileas Fogg, you are several hundred metres up and looking down on a smaller balloon (the honeymoon flight) and across a wide vista of shifting clouds, the landscape suddenly illuminated by the rising sun (worth clicking on this one).
From above, the landscape might have rendered by an abstract artist.
Two mules run across the newly harvested wheat fields. Moran takes us down, reminding us to hang on tight and bend our knees and we shudder to a halt across another empty field.
Exhiliarated and ravenous we toast each other with plastic cups of Cava, sit down to a hearty breakfast in an idyllic spot before heading back to the Rooftop - and the follies of man.