"The Leap" my first jump

The Leap

It was four days before my 40th birthday and I found myself sitting on the floor, facing the tail of a Cessna 182 with a 40 pound skydiving rig strapped to my back. On my right, in the only seat the plane had, was Larry, the pilot. He was busy bringing the plane up to an altitude of 3500 feet. Kneeling on the floor in front of me was Jean my jumpmaster and instructor. Sitting on the floor behind him was Casey, another member of my class, with a terroized look on his face. Finally, next to Jean, was my brother Gregg. This was Gregg's fourth jump so the look on his face was more like nervousness than terror. It was partly because of Gregg that I was here. He and my other brother, Jeff were giving me my first skydive as a birthday present.

In an attempt to keep myself calm I was trying to go over the plethora of information that had been stuffed into my brain during the preceding seven hour class. I started to review the various types of malfunctions and related emergency procedures, but, when I realized that this was having the opposit effect, I stopped. Instead, I went over "the count" again: one-thousand-one, one-thousand-two, one-thousand-three, one-thousand-four, one-thousand-five, check! I was starting to feel a little calmer when I glanced down at the altimeter on my chest. It was pointing at 3500 feet! So much for being calm. Jean must have been able to see my emotional state (I assume that my face looked like Casey's) because he said to me, "Skydivers are very special, you know... we're the only people who can touch clouds." It was a nice thought, but it didn't help much.

Me after my first jump back in 1994.

It was almost time. Jean reached around to the top of my rig and turned on the radio. Through it someone on the ground would give me landing instructions. To make sure that it was firmly attached to the plane, he gave the far end of my static line a yank and handed it to me so I could do the same thing. The static line would automatically deploy my parachute so I wouldn't have to pull a ripcord myself. Then he yelled, "door," and opened the door of the plane. The butterflies in my stomach started doing loops and barrel rolls and I believe that I could feel the adrenaline filling my blood vessels. Through the open door I could see the plane's wheel with the small platform on top of it and the ground 3500 feet below! Jean looked out and then gave some instructions to Larry to position us over the best "spot" for me to jump. This insures that, given the current wind conditions, I will be able to fly back to the airport.

Jean looked at me and asked, "Are you ready to skydive?" Above the roar of the plane and wind, and the pounding in my own ears, I heard someone answer, "yes!" I was a little surprised to realize that it was me that answered. He then gave the first command, "Feet out and stop!" Without hesitation (again to my surprise) I swung my feet out of the door and slid across the floor of the plane until I was sitting on the edge of the door with my feet on that little platform. I then made eye contact with Jean and waited for the next command. Larry cut the engine back to slow the plane as much as possible, to about 70 miles per hour. Jean yelled the second command, "Go all the way out!" The airplane's wing strut starts from just in front of the door and attaches to the bottom of the wing near its tip. I grabbed onto it with both hands and pulled my body out. I was now standing on that tiny platform holding onto and leaning over the wing strut. The wind was unbelievable! I felt like it was going to blow me off the plane so I tightened my grip. I slowly slid my hands out toward the end of the strut until they were in the positions indicated by a pair of painted lines. I stepped off the platform so I was hanging from the wing strut by my hands. Then I made eye contact with Jean again. At this point I remember thinking, this is insane... nobody does this! He smiled, gave me the "thumbs-up" signal and yelled the final command, "DOT!" I looked up at the dot that was painted on the bottom of the wing, took a deep breath, and let go!

WHAT A RUSH! As I let go I arched my back and started the count, "one-thousand-one..." Then, sensory overload kicked in and everything for the next few seconds was a blur... a vague image of the airplane receding away... wind blowing... a slight feeling of acceleration... the flapping sound of fabric... the gentle tug of the opening canopy. Although I don't remember going through the whole count, I must have because I heard myself say, "...one-thousand-five, check!" I looked up to check the canopy and there it was, fully deployed, rectangular, no line-twists, beautiful! I let out an exhilarated whoop that they must have heard on the ground 3000 feet below!

The radio suddenly sprang to life and the voice from the ground said "Congratulations, Paul, looks like you have a good canopy. Go ahead and do a control check. Then enjoy the canopy flight down." I reached up and grabbed the steering toggles that were stowed with Velcro to the risers above my head. (The risers are straps that attach the harness to the canopy's lines.) I pulled down on the right toggle and the parachute turned right. I let it up and pulled down on the left toggle and the parachute turned left. I let it up and then pulled on both toggles simultaneously, doing what is called a flare. The parachute slowed down until it had almost no forward motion. I let the toggles back up and the canopy responded by moving forward again. Wow! it works!

The canopy flight down was the complete opposite of the flight up, climb-out, and exit. It was quiet and peaceful fun. The view was tremendous. I felt like a soaring eagle. With instructions from the ground, I flew back to the airport. My landing was more like a goonybird than an eagle: I landed in a bean field adjacent to the airport, just missed some trees and didn't flare soon enough. That meant that I was moving forward faster than I should have been when I touched down. Skydivers with a little more experience usually land on their feet. Beginners usually don't. I landed on my... uh... but... I didn't care! I was hooked! As I gathered up the canopy and walked back to the hanger, I was thinking two things, I can't believe I did it, and I want to do it again!

I didn't get to jump again that day but I was back the next day and got to do a jump with both my brothers. I've been back every weekend since and have now made over fifty jumps. I've completed the course, including freefall training, and just recently finished all the requirements for my "A" license. I'm even starting to learn how to do relative work. That's jumping with other skydivers and flying in formation during freefall. Oh, and I do land on my feet, now (most of the time).

The question I'm most often asked is, "Why do you do it?" Because it's not like anything else the questioner, or I, have ever done, it's difficult for me to come up with an adequate answer. Simply saying it's great fun, which it is, is not enough. There's more to it than that. The perceived risk is strangely appealing. Although, I wonder if it's any more risky than riding in a power boat on a lake crowded with other power boats being operated by people that have had little or no training and have, in many cases, consumed mass quantities of beer. Certainly, the sence of accomplishment one receives by conquering the fear plays a part. But there's still more, a total release from everyday life, a new outlook on life, maybe? I don't really know. What I do know is that I want to continue skydiving. There is a quotation printed on the back of the training manual that you get when you start the course. It's not attributed to anyone, so I don't know where it's from. It seems to provide as good an answer to this question as anything else. It says, "...and once you have tasted flight, you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you long to return...."

Whenever I finish telling this story I usually get one of two responses. Either, "You must be crazy," or "I wish I could do that." To the first person I can only say, "you're probably right!" To the second I say "what are you waiting for?"

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