The only warning is a slight shudder in the ship as we brush against the tentacles of wind at the edge of the whirlpool.
Then, almost before we can react, the churning waves of air coming off the mountains of Athens grab hold of us, and the airship pitches sharply upward and yaws to the right before turning and diving in the opposite direction toward the sea beneath us. The maneuver feels very much like a wingover-except, of course, that we don’t have wings. All we have is 245,000 cubic feet of helium and air, encased in an interwoven polyester bag 200 feet long, 67 feet high, and 63 feet wide. And at the moment, the seven tons of mass that gas represents is all over the sky.
