In Conversation with Mike Kendrick

Bertrand Piccard, Mike Kendrick (centre) and John Travolta

Mike Kendrick is, quite literally, a Living Legend of Aviation. With a career in the lighter-than-air industry spanning decades, he founded Straightline Aviation ten years ago to bring emerging hybrid airship technology to market. Last year, Mark Dorey took over as CEO and as Founder & Chairman, Mike remains firmly at the forefront of the organisation.

We sat down with him to reflect on his life, his career and the lessons learned along the way.

Your career in lighter-than-air aviation began at a time when hot air balloons and airships were a rarity in the UK. What first drew you to this unconventional path?

Back in 1970, I was a young director at the first PR firm listed on the UK Stock Exchange. One day, driving to a client meeting, traffic came to a halt because a balloon was floating low above the motorway – no branding, just silently commanding attention. That stuck with me.

Soon after, a client, Bellstaff, the motorcycle gear company, needed a promotional idea for the Isle of Man TT. I suggested using a balloon. We sourced one, slapped a massive 50-foot Bellstaff banner on it and tethered it where the crowds were. The impact was immediate – TV coverage, people stopping in their tracks.

I got hooked. I bought the very balloon that first caught my eye, “Thursday’s Child”, and turned it into a commercial platform. But back then, advertising on balloons was technically illegal; you could put the name of the hirer on the balloon, but no slogans. I spent two years arguing with the Board of Trade, using deliberately absurd company names like Dudley Zoo Come And See The Chimps Party At Ten Every Day Ltd or Milk’s Got a Lot Of Bottle Ltd to push the boundaries. Eventually, they gave up – and we changed the rules.

That led to the creation of my company, Lighter Than Air Ltd, and to getting my balloon pilot license in 1972. From day one, I was drawn to airships too; our logo always had a balloon and an airship side by side.

You’ve had to fight for regulatory change from the very start, including for the right to advertise on balloons. How has that spirit of challenging the status quo shaped your career?

Tremendously. You can't beat common sense, and the fact was, flying objects work. People remembered them. They weren’t just pretty in the sky; they made an impact.

We treated balloons as media platforms and delivered detailed audience reports for clients. On traditional media, you might pay £5–£10 per thousand impressions. We were hitting similar audiences for a couple of quid and that caught the attention of serious advertisers.

We helped redefine what people thought balloons could do. Last night, I bumped into someone in the pub who remembered my Woolworths balloon from 1972. Not me – the balloon. That’s the power of it.

You’ve had brushes with death, from an attempt to reach the edge of space to being kidnapped at gunpoint in Tanzania. What keeps you pushing boundaries despite the risks?

My wife asks me that too; she’s got a plaque in the kitchen that says, ‘Shall we have another adventure, or a cup of tea first?’

Truth is, I’ve never liked heights, so I suppose I was drawn to face that fear. But I always made sure it made commercial sense. The edge-of-space balloon flight? That had a quarter-million dollar budget – I had to find sponsors. In hindsight, it’s a good thing we didn’t attempt it. We would’ve been killed.

But we pushed the limits. I was 42,000 feet up in an open basket – terrifying, but exhilarating. The risks weren’t for thrills; they were about personal ambition. I’ve flown across countries, tackled space, and now I want to fly around the world non-stop, with net zero emissions. That’s the next big one.

From balloons to blimps to founding a vintage U.S. airline, you’ve worked with everyone from NASA to Nelson Mandela. Which achievement are you proudest of and why

It’s not a flying achievement, it’s becoming a friend of Nelson Mandela. That changed my life.

We’d developed technology that allowed airships to carry a synthetic aperture radar, something too big and sensitive for conventional aircraft, to detect buried landmines. We tested it in Kosovo, where they had a mapped field of hidden mines for training purposes. The airship found every single one, plastic and metal, with 100% accuracy. This was the start of The Mineseeker Foundation.

Richard Branson said, “You’ve got to show Mandela.” So, I did what I do – picked up the phone, got through to his PA, and next thing I knew, we were flying to South Africa with a BBC crew. He said yes immediately. We met him and his wife, Graça Machel, and they both became patrons of the project.

Mandela had this extraordinary calm, an unshakable humility. He made me reassess what mattered, not just ambition, but purpose. We talked for hours. I visited him several times, including in Mozambique and Sun City. I’ll never forget those mornings with him. The man had every reason to hate, but chose forgiveness instead. I’m not religious, but that moved me deeply.

You’ve worked closely with Sir Richard Branson on some of the most daring aviation adventures ever attempted. What was it like collaborating with him on these missions and what did you learn from those experiences?

Working with Richard can be inspiring – and occasionally maddening. He’s bold, decisive and trusts his instincts. Sometimes too much.

I wasn’t involved in his first transatlantic balloon flight until it went wrong. Then I stepped in, took charge of the comms and reframed the whole story. That experience taught me how vital the right narrative is in a crisis.

On later projects, like the Pacific flight, I was brought in earlier. The balloon lining tore apart after inflation. People blamed frost, but the truth was it had been built wrong. I only agreed to fix it if I had full control. Richard gave me power of attorney. I rebuilt the project, and it worked.

He’s not a technical guy, but he knows how to pick a team. We clashed sometimes – especially over safety – but we’ve stayed good friends. He still sends notes. My wife just got one for her 80th birthday from him and Joan.

Where did the idea for Straightline Aviation come from, and how does it build on your lifetime of innovation in lighter-than-air technology?

It came from hard-won experience. We ran the largest airship fleet in the world: 19 ships, 400 staff, operating in more than 35 countries. We made it work by giving the media something they wanted: aerial footage of major sporting events. In exchange, they’d point the ground level cameras up at our branded airships. It was genius-level ROI – $100 million in branding for $9 million spent.

But we also knew the weaknesses of traditional airships: ground crews, mooring, weather. Then I saw a model of the first hybrid airship built by Roger Munk in Bedfordshire: SkyKitten.

When Lockheed Martin developed the hybrid airship using similar technology, we knew it was the future. No runways. No roads. Just lift, land, and deliver. That’s where Straightline was born – from a belief that airships could change the world, especially in humanitarian logistics.

People are starving and dying because food and medicine aren’t reaching them. Hybrid airships can do that. We’ve studied every alternative and nothing else comes close. That’s what drives me: knowing we’ve got something that can actually help people right now.

Straightline Aviation committed early to the AT² Aerospace Z1 hybrid airship, originally developed by Lockheed Martin, and has remained loyal to that choice ever since. What led you to make this decision?

One reason: the Air Cushion Landing System. It’s patented Lockheed Martin technology, and it’s a real game-changer. We’re agnostic – if another company built a better airship, we’d consider it. But so far, no one has.

The Z1 can land almost anywhere – on a football pitch, in the middle of a field, even a jungle clearing. You land the ship, point the nose into the wind, reverse the thrust, and the ACLS holds it steady. It’s heavier-than-air, so it doesn’t need a mast or a tower, just put it down and get to work.

From a commercial angle, it’s cheaper and greener than conventional logistics – no runways, no roads, no rails. And from a humanitarian standpoint, it’s lifesaving. Fifty percent of the world’s population doesn’t have reliable access to food or medicine. The airship can help fix that.

I had cancer. I was lucky – I had the NHS, I got treated. But millions don’t have that chance. They’re dying not because of a lack of resources, but because we can’t reach them. This technology can change that. My life is no more valuable than theirs. We've partnered with RAD-AID International to deliver lifesaving radiology services to remote communities, using hybrid airships to reach people who would otherwise go undiagnosed and untreated. That’s the kind of project that keeps me going.

Looking ahead, what excites you most about the future of Straightline Aviation and the potential of hybrid airships?

Personally and professionally, I want to fly around the world in our first hybrid airship non-stop, with net zero emissions. That would send a huge message: the future is already here.

The technology exists. We can move cargo efficiently. We can get food and medicine to people who need it. We can do it cleaner, safer and smarter than ever before. What excites me is proving that and putting it to work.

One last question: in your book Thursday’s Child you've written about your early days in lighter-than-air. How did you find the experience of writing it and when can we expect Volume Two?

Writing Thursday’s Child was cathartic, and surprisingly well-received. I’m not an author, but the response was lovely. Volume Two is called The Branson Years – and it’s a bit spicier. There are some revelations. Richard’s read most of it. He’s a friend, and I don’t want to upset him, but I will, if I have to.

I’m 20,000 words from the finish line and need to find a publisher, since Richard sold his publishing business. But it’s coming. It needs to.

For all the near-death escapes, legal battles and high-altitude feats, what drives Mike Kendrick today is simple: making a difference. “The technology is with us,” he says. “So let’s get on and use it – to make the planet safer, better, and cleaner.”