© Jen
Poetry
Thoughts
Stories
Flying
In the Myths of Creation
Your husband has been killed
Invasion by the American pumpkin
Travel back in time
The story of us
1
Letting go at the bottom of a crevasse. That was the feeling he inspired in me the very first time I met him. The more I got to know him the higher up in the crevasse he let me go. It was all a thrill - for me and for him - as he kept telling me that I made him feel like he was on a window ledge a thousand miles high. I've never inspired anything like it in another human being - I loved it. Both the feeling he got from me and the feeling I got from him - I loved it. But then again, I was always an adrenaline-junkie. The feeling was no less at the knowledge that, once I reached the bottom of the fault, he would be there to drag me all the way up - just to let go again at the very top. And he couldn't go on without the void underneath him. But then I crashed. And he wasn't there.
I found out he was too mercurial to stay around to catch me every time. The habit of even an adrenaline kick can make it boring. He needed constant change to keep the feelings pumping him high and light enough to fly if he ever should fall off the ledge. I had never thought that he'd stay around me long enough for me to figure him out. And he didn't - not really. I never did find out what that void was to him. What or who put it there and exactly what it signified to him.
But I knew that we'd live through great adventure together - and he didn't disappoint me. The first thing he dragged me to was sky-diving. The week of training wasn't very exhilarating, or even interesting, but on Saturday when we were to make our first jump we got plenty enough excitement. The jumping ground lay just outside the city's airport and the club- plane used the same airstrips as the commercial flights. The landing site itself was a large square of grass and dirt surrounded by high spruce and fir trees. On the other side of this wooded area was open water - it closed in on the jumping-ground on three sides so we had to wear inflatable life-vests underneath our outer garment.
As you came inside the fence that surrounded the landing-site you had the east end of the open field running straight ahead of you to the south side a few hundred meters away. To the right as you turned from the gate the airport buildings could be seen through some trees. On the north side, the one closest the gate, they had built a small club-house in which we spent the theory lessons learning all the things that could go wrong. If everybody knew the things that can go wrong in a sky-dive I don't think so many would try it, but when you've already paid the fee you at least have to try it once. Anyhow, we were taught what can go wrong and what to do about it. In most cases that was to cut loose from the parachute - a pretty scary thing to do - and let the reserve chute take you down to earth. We also got to practise the roll all of us beginners had to use so we wouldn't hurt ourselves landing. It wasn't too difficult, but something that did catch my attention was that both our instructors - a married couple who also practised scuba-diving - had at least one finger that they couldn't fully stretch. The memories of some unfortunate landing I supposed. All this wasn't hard to take in, and hardly any more exciting than watching a film of a sky-dive. Have you ever noticed, by the way, that in most cases where a sky-dive is filmed, the music has been added to induce the feeling of peace and freedom. I suppose it has something to do with the wish, that humans share, to fly. Fly like the wind, free as the bird. Of course, if you watch MTV or a similar channel the music will be quite different on such clips. It'll usually have a fast drumbeat to the accompaniment of the twang of wild electric guitars. All to make it seem as exciting as possible.
Well, the boredom of those lessons was more than redeemed by the tremendous rush of adrenaline that we could enjoy on the Saturday.
We came relatively early to pass the practical and written tests. The written test wasn't so difficult, neither was the one where we had to recognise all the problems you can have with a parachute when it opens and know what to do about it. On the last test, where we had to make a landing-roll from a chair out on the field I had to go before the examiner several times before I passed. He had no problem at all with anything, naturally. I don't think any of us would have failed really, since they could hardly deny any of us the right to jump that we'd paid for. And those who didn't pass the written test the first time the instructors worked with until he or she had learned and written a passing score. And finally we got to jump. We put on all the gear and wrote our names on the jumplist, as it would be our first jump we were put at the top of the waiting list. It didn't take long till we all went to the plane to go up for the first time. It was tantalising to sit there on the floor of the little aircraft all stuffed together. I sat at the front of one of the two parallel rows of jumpers between his knees, and in front of me the jump-supervisor sat on a bench. As the plane taxied out on the runway I was pretty calm and we sat talking as the sound from the engine wasn't loud enough to drown our voices yet. He asked me if I planned to make all five jumps - we didn't have enough money to pay for twenty-five so we only had five jumps each - I told him that I'd make that decision when I was safely on the ground after the first one. I had to know weather it was worth it. He was, of course, disgustingly sure of himself when he said that he'd love all five exits from the plane and all five landings, not to mention the time under the chute. When the roar from the plane engine was finally too loud to talk over we sat there, a bit uncomfortably, and looked out to see the ground move away from underneath us. As I started to fasten the helmet straps and adjusting the harnesses a bit as it cut into my left leg I realised what it was I was doing, that I planned to stick my legs out the side of this small aircraft and sit on the edge of my ass to fling myself out 1000 meters up from the ground - and the blood started pumping the adrenaline through my whole being.
Aahh, and the feeling of fright wasn't strong enough to do anything but heighten the experience. And every little detail came to me as it always does in moments like that. I noticed everything from the slight dust and dirt from the grass field on the floor and my winter-boots that I'd wound with cellotape to support my ankles when I landed - to every little movement the plane made him do to steady himself. Oohh, how I loved it, that is actually one of the reasons why I am an adrenaline-junkie - I want to be aware, aware of everything. Of course, after the adrenaline has gone out of my system I can be totally disconnected for hours and sometimes even days, depending on the duration of the kick.
After that Saturday I normally would have spent a week of mindless, silent isolation, but, as he was there with me, pushing me on to the next adventure and new sensations, I couldn't.
When the plane finally reached the exit height and place the pilot was told, or rather signalled by the jump-supervisor who’d opened and looked out the door, to go down again. There was too much obstructing the view down to the ground. As we had circled to reach the 1000 meters a cloud had blown in over the exit point. We weren't allowed to jump. My body and mind said Phooff! It was like a balloon bursting the hundredth of a second after a bullet has passed through it. And I slumped back against his chest. I had fallen from the very top of the crevasse and he had caught me - figuratively as well as literally, as he curled his arms around me in a tight embrace all the way down to the ground.
When we got down to the ground again and out of the plane, we were told that we'd have another go in just a little bit. That made me relax - I had thought we weren't going to get to jump that day - and the anticipation started building again.
I don't think it took more than twenty minutes till we were taxiing out again, we hadn't removed the equipment during the waiting, so we were quick to get into the plane for another go. The exit order had been changed somewhat as we just crawled into the plane in the order we stood outside of it, and this time we sat next to each other behind the first two jumpers. We didn't talk, even when it was possible to do so, as our minds was totally riveted to the prospect of an adrenaline kick- again. The first time it had been something special, but now I was a bit apprehensive - what if we couldn't jump now either - and didn't let the excitement grab me so completely. That was one of the few down-moments I spent with him, since you can't really, fully enjoy something if you're sceptical the way I was then. But even I couldn't keep the thrill away when the jump-supervisor opened the large exit-door of the plane over the jump site. I craned my neck to try to see, over the lower edge of the window, the first jumper falling. I didn't see anything and was, as a consequence, taken by surprise when he patted my knee as way of good-bye when he shuffled over to take the exit position. I was to jump after him and my blood started flowing when I saw him jump out and start going down through the air. I didn't see that much of his descent as the supervisor tapped my shoulder to get my attention. He showed me that the pull-out cord for the parachute was safely attached and gestured to me to take the position.
And there I was, with my legs out the side of a moving plane one thousand meters high, and I knew I was going to jump and sail under a piece of cloth down to earth.
When I took the leap, I think I screamed. I totally forgot to count to four as we had been instructed to do. I did remember to stretch my arms and legs out so I wouldn't entangle the strings to the chute with them. The next thing I forgot was to check my chute. When I had gone a third of the way down it suddenly struck me - CHECK THE CHUTE! I don't know what would have happened had anything been amiss with it, but as it was it looked perfectly fine and my sailing was smooth. That realisation was an extra high, a totally unprepared one, as I didn't think I could get more affected than I already was.
The ride down was more than could possibly be described. I actually think ride is the best word for it, because to just say I sailed would be putting it too mildly for my memory. I was excited in the plane, the exit from the plane was a thrill and when I realised I hadn't checked my chute I think my system almost failed me. It was fright, don't think anything else, but the adrenalin you get from fright is awesome. And when I hit the ground, a bit too close to the club-house, and collapsed in the roll I screamed again.
As close as I had landed to the club-house, he had struck solid ground as far from it, and it took him a while to walk back to the tarpaulin that had been stretched out on the grass for the parachutes to be repacked on. I don't think we said much. I made a comment to the effect that we ought to put our names on the jump-list which was followed by his grunt as he walked over to write us down. Now, some people talk when they're high. I know a guy who hardly ever speaks, but when he's flying on adrenaline you can't shut him up for a minute. I'm not like that. I enjoy the silence where I can hear my blood coursing through my veins and he was like me in that sense, he didn't utter much either. Normally, though, we were a bit different, I didn't really talk that much and he was not really quiet that often. We got along fine, he did all the filling in of silences and I added a bit of substance to the topics we brought up. We talked a lot and we talked about everything. I talked more that summer than I had ever done before - between all of the adventures and the experiments. He talked a lot about old friends of his that he'd left all over the globe to move on to another challenge. And no matter what, he always knew why he did what he did. Or at least he always had an explanation, weather it was a reference to one of his old mates or to a magazine he could always tell you why he wanted to do this or that, and it always got down to excitement, thrill. Funny, I never heard him say why he'd left so many people behind. I suppose I knew all along that he'd have to go, but I had hoped I could make him stay around longer than just the summer. But at the approach of September he came and woke me up one morning. He had his bag thrown over one shoulder and looked so cute just standing there waiting for me to fully wake up. I got out of bed and gave him a hug, he didn't move and I stood there until he put up his arms around me. Then I went for my wallet and pulled out the only photo of the two of us together, gave it to him and said goodbye. He didn't say anything, he just took the photo and put it in his shirt-pocket and then he turned and went out the door. Sometimes I've regretted letting him have that photo, not that I'd ever forget him, but still...