The Resurgence of Airships: Tech’s Bizarre Plan for Zero-Emission Freight

The way it transpired had an almost theatrical quality. On a clear October morning, a 400-foot silver shape glided over the Golden Gate Bridge, moving slowly enough for cars below to stop and gawk. The largest aircraft to fly in almost a century, Pathfinder-1 was built covertly by Sergey Brin’s LTA Research and chose the most photographed bridge in America for its longest test flight. It doesn’t feel like an accident. Although Brin avoids the media, it’s obvious that his airship wasn’t designed to blend in.

A few weeks later, Helsinki locals began sharing images of what they believed to be a UFO. It wasn’t. It was a Kelluu drone, a tiny, semi-rigid airship the size of a shipping container that was created by a Finnish startup that currently runs what is likely the world’s largest fleet of airships. Kelluu’s aircraft discreetly fed surveillance information into NATO’s multinational air combat exercise, Atlantic Trident 25, last summer. Although it doesn’t often make headlines, that detail is important. It implies that even though the majority of us aren’t looking, airships are already making a living somewhere.

It is difficult to ignore this place’s history. Airships essentially disappeared from serious aviation for the better part of a century after the Hindenburg burned over New Jersey in 1937. Every ten years or so, someone announced a comeback (CargoLifter in Germany comes to mind), but each time the project fell apart due to its own weight. Thus, the skepticism is justified. In short, supply and demand have not been balanced for 90 years, according to Barry Prentice, director of the University of Manitoba Transport Institute. Due to the lack of a proven market, investors are hesitant. Because there are no proven airships, operators are hesitant. Many generations of engineers have struggled with this chicken-and-egg dilemma.

However, this time, something does feel different. For short-haul regional routes like Liverpool to Belfast and Seattle to Vancouver, Hybrid Air Vehicles has been operating its AirLander 10, a craft that resembles a flying pillow rather than a Zeppelin. Due to a purposeful engineering compromise, aerodynamics accounts for about 40% of its lift. While pure buoyancy may seem elegant, imagine trying to unload fifty tons of cargo in the Arctic without it attempting to float away all of a sudden. In order to land like a plane, the AirLander slightly defies gravity.

Passengers, however, are not the true prize. It is freight. With a fraction of the emissions of fixed-wing aircraft—possibly zero, if hydrogen fuel cells live up to expectations—airships can transport heavier loads farther than helicopters. Tech money is paying attention to that pitch. It’s another matter entirely whether it withstands contact with weather, insurance underwriters, and helium prices.

It’s difficult to ignore how circumspect the optimism has grown. Five years ago, all of the press coverage consisted of breathless predictions and speculative renderings. These days, there are real planes, real flights, real passengers, and real commuter photos. Even if it happens slowly, that is progress. The Golden Gate flight is iconic, according to Alan Shrimpton of the Airship Association, and he’s probably right. However, iconic images have launched many failed industries in the past.

As you watch this develop, you get the impression that airships are neither a business nor a fantasy anymore. They are in the middle, floating at a low altitude, waiting for one of these businesses to eventually sign a significant freight contract. The silhouettes over Helsinki and San Francisco imply that the discussion has, at the very least, ceased to be theoretical, regardless of whether that moment occurs in 2027 or not.