What is it like? Were you afraid? Would you do it again?
Let me start at the beginning where all things start before they end.
It started nowhere.
The Gleneagles trainstation (map). I expected it to be a little idyllic village in the highlands. I was wrong. The G8 summit had been there (disrupted by the terror attacks on London) but actually there is NOTHING there, except for a fancy hotel and that was another mile of or so away from the trainstation.
From there we (Ross - a jumping collegue who had been once before a couple of months ago) got a taxi to the Strathallan Airport.
There was a lot of Tandem Jumping going on when we arrived, but otherwise there weren't many people at the airport - which was strange considering the excellent weather.
It looks really nice and easy. Tandem probably is :-P
We were there for an hour enjoying the sun waiting for our training to start.
Before (guantamo prospect)Then our names were called through the loudspeaker. We were next and were supposed to go to the kit up area. Was I nervous? No. I was more excited in a happy way. A giggle was in my belly and wanted out. I had run my lips over the apple of madness, but had not yet pierced its skin.
We got all kitted up (swimvest, orange suit, parachute (!), altometer, radio) and had our equipment checked (my parachute was fiddled around with by one of the instructors which freaked me out a bit).
After (Bye bye world)
The plane is tiny 4 people + the pilot are squashed inside. Ross's leg was dangling out of the open door for the whole flight.
The first thing I realized was that the sounds were really distressing. The aircraft's rotor was like a billion bees ready to attack and the when the aircraft took of the rushing of the wind made all conversation impossible.
A constant grin was frozen on my lips and my mind was caught in constant turmoil. Antilopes of fear were chased by adrenaline tigers - the awe and beauty of the heavenly view was challenged by the infernal turns and tips the tiny little plane made.
I was the first to jump. Once we reached 3500 feet (1066 meters) I had to sit at the door. I looked at the horizon while the pilot searched for the right area to drop me off. Wild turns and motion sickness send stabs of fear at me, each one parried by even more adrenaline induced prayers, curses and love pledges to invisible gods and demons. I concentrated on the face of my instructor seeking security in her features.
Then the engines die down. The plane slows down for a couple of seconds creating a short window for the parachutist to jump. I hear the command "GO!" and push myself out of the door.
It is like commiting suicide. Writing these lines I am hanging in the sky. Blind fear cancelling out everything. Words cannot describe. Lips cannot move.
As soon as you push yourself away from the aircraft all control is lost. A short moment of ultimate fear creates unconciousness, but then it returns and the sensation of falling without constraint bursts into your head, ripping your eyes wide open. In those seconds I have experienced the most intense sensation of fear in my life. The fear of imminent death.
Suddenly my body changes position and I remember to look above me and to check my canopy. It's there. It's big, recangular and it's making sure that I'm not going to die that easily.
You'd think I was relieved now. I wasn't. I felt so tiny and vulnerable with a only a couple of flimsy cords and strings to protect me from falling 3500 feet.
"Fuck"
and
"shit"
were words I uttered for the rest of my journey downwards. In fact I don't remember that jump very well anymore. The worries about my equipment (and life) were my prime concern. I landed all right and my legs collapsed beneath me. Still cursing I packed my parachute together and headed back to the airport.
If I stopped here you'd think skydiving is a shit experience. But you'd be wrong. The word "fun" or "shit" cannot describe the sensation. They lack depth and power and reality. TV series can be shit, a party can be fun. But skydiving?
To be honest I didn't want to do it again. But somehow this experience was different from everything else and it was a reality like you don't get to taste very often. Which is why I paid 100 pounds for 4 jumps in advance.
My next jump went alot better. I suppose I was emotionally drained and during the flight I was not as scared anymore. When it came to jumping... the same fear took hold of me, but as soon as the parachute was open and I was holding the toggles in my hand I concentrated on enjoying the view for once and worry less about falling out of my parachute.
And it was beautiful.
The little white blob is meI was circling above fields and forests and a river was snaking it's way through the countryside (map). Hills embellished the horizon and by pulling my toggles I could excercise control over what I saw and what direction I flew in. I was hoovering above the spectators at the airport - tiny dots in my distant world.
My landing was a bit rougher this time. I pulled my toggles to early and slowed down too quickly. Still I stayed on my feet (quite a feat actually) picked up my parachute and made my way back to the airport quite happily (I was giggling to myself and sobbing a bit too).Skydiving is insane.
I did jump another time after that, trying a "dummy pull" (so far my parachute opened automatically after leaving the plane via a cord that was attached to it). But because a different plane took us up and a different instructor was with us and the pilot having problems finding the drop zone I was freaked out by the time I jumped and unable to reach for it.
Freefall is the next aim, which means that while falling you have to pull the cord to deploy your parachute. It's not easy because you have to maintain a good body position, otherwise you are flung around in the sky and might get tangled up in your parachute (not good).
So will I do it again? Yes. Was I afraid? Yes. As to what it was like:
That sunday I sunk my teeth into utter madness three times and it tasted sublime.
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