Skydiving
This episode lasted literally for months, generated in early June when a bunch of former high school buddies and room-mates were together at a friend's stag. A bunch of us, 8 or 10, decided that we'd go to a parachuting school NW of Toronto for a weekend of training which would culminate with a group jump. Rite of passage stuff with a major shot of adrenaline. Good enuff!
Over a couple of weeks there were various networked calls to establish which weekend to go and when the school could accommodate a group our size. A couple of guys backed out and a couple more caved to their wive's/girlfriend's objections to taking part. It turned out that 4 of us actually showed for the training in early July and it went really well. There was some classroom presentation, chute packing and learning how to drop and roll from various heights. Finally we were attached to a guy wire strung diagonally in the interior of the barn and given a ride from about 60 feet in the air down to about 15 feet, and dropped to the barn floor. The training was 8 hours Saturday and 6 on Sunday leaving enough time for our jump after we got our certificates and signed our releases.
Only problem was that the wind speeds were too high and variable so we weren't able to get our jump in. A couple of weeks later 3 of us returned and same story - uncertain weather; too dangerous for beginners. A fortnight later 2 of us made yet another trip up - no go. In late August at the tail end of a long, hot, dry summer I made my last trip there alone; the Saturday before I was to return to work at the end of 2 weeks holiday. I'd made a deal with my wife Vicki that this would be the last trip - she'd looked after Sarah and Russ on each of these occasions and they were just 3 & 1 at the time.
It was a beautiful day; clear, sunny with a few clouds, a light breeze. Gorgeous. The pilot loaded the flight master and 4 of us jumpers into the door-less Cessna and quickly got us airborne. There was little talk as we climbed because the engine noise and wind rush was so loud but there were some excited looks and thumbs up gestures being shot around. When we arrived at 3,000 feet the master clapped me on the shoulder and yelled that if I wanted to go first I'd best get into position. So, I wriggled my butt across the floor of the craft and braced myself in the doorway with one cheek perched on the door jamb. The first thing that grabbed me was the enormous view - limitless horizon in front of me; 270 degree view from what I could see over the plane through to what I could see in under it. Our perceptions are so grounded in having that finite floor below and in front of us. I found it really disorienting and awe inspiring to not have that.
'GO, GO, GO!!!' - and I was away. I was on a static line so I didn't have to worry about pulling a ripcord - a 2 second drop , a heavy tug and the chute caught air. The first thing you're to do is check that the chute is fully open; that was fine. Second, you make an 'L' with your feet and start gauging your rate of travel using fixed objects on the ground, find the drop zone and estimate whether you'll under/over shoot the zone. I figured I wasn't going quite make the zone and had to avoid some phone/hydro lines on the near side so I turned into the wind to slow my travel. That seemed to be working fine so I continued on my way down enjoying the view, sensation and experience of the trip. Pure exhilaration!!!
During our training we'd been told that, as we were using old round military style chutes, we weren't to try manoeuvring in the last 200 feet of descent. Like I said, I had been travelling into the wind. At 150 feet the wind direction switched, coming from behind me and making me pick up speed. By the time I reached the ground I was moving at 35 -40 mph and when I pitched and rolled in that farmers field it was like hitting concrete. Broke one ankle and sprained the hell out of both of them, a big scrape up one cheek, sore hips, knees, shoulder. I kept trying to stand and signal to the pick up team; couldn't understand why I couldn't stay standing. I was a little dazed, shocky and swearing like a trooper as the waves of pain started rolling. They eventually got me back to the base, called an ambulance and delivered me to the local emergency department. Funny, the attendants, nurses and doctor were completely, uniformly unsympathetic.
Once I was outfitted with a cast and crutches I was picked up by an aunt & uncle who lived not too far away and they put me up for the night. Vicki picked me up on the Sunday morning and I don't think I've ever seen anyone so angry; she was positively steaming. She lived up to her nickname that day - "Big Red'. I swear she aimed for every lump, bump and pothole in the road on that long loudy SILENT ride. She didn't take me home either; she dumped me at my parent's home for them to look after me. I think I was there for 3 full weeks. I missed work that first Monday but worked the rest of the week from a wheelchair.
The moral??? Make sure your bone structure can withstand the activity?? Drink more milk?? Carpe diem?? Go for the gusto?? With pleasure comes some pain???
Dunno - but it was a blast that I wouldn't trade despite the consequences.
Over a couple of weeks there were various networked calls to establish which weekend to go and when the school could accommodate a group our size. A couple of guys backed out and a couple more caved to their wive's/girlfriend's objections to taking part. It turned out that 4 of us actually showed for the training in early July and it went really well. There was some classroom presentation, chute packing and learning how to drop and roll from various heights. Finally we were attached to a guy wire strung diagonally in the interior of the barn and given a ride from about 60 feet in the air down to about 15 feet, and dropped to the barn floor. The training was 8 hours Saturday and 6 on Sunday leaving enough time for our jump after we got our certificates and signed our releases.
Only problem was that the wind speeds were too high and variable so we weren't able to get our jump in. A couple of weeks later 3 of us returned and same story - uncertain weather; too dangerous for beginners. A fortnight later 2 of us made yet another trip up - no go. In late August at the tail end of a long, hot, dry summer I made my last trip there alone; the Saturday before I was to return to work at the end of 2 weeks holiday. I'd made a deal with my wife Vicki that this would be the last trip - she'd looked after Sarah and Russ on each of these occasions and they were just 3 & 1 at the time.
It was a beautiful day; clear, sunny with a few clouds, a light breeze. Gorgeous. The pilot loaded the flight master and 4 of us jumpers into the door-less Cessna and quickly got us airborne. There was little talk as we climbed because the engine noise and wind rush was so loud but there were some excited looks and thumbs up gestures being shot around. When we arrived at 3,000 feet the master clapped me on the shoulder and yelled that if I wanted to go first I'd best get into position. So, I wriggled my butt across the floor of the craft and braced myself in the doorway with one cheek perched on the door jamb. The first thing that grabbed me was the enormous view - limitless horizon in front of me; 270 degree view from what I could see over the plane through to what I could see in under it. Our perceptions are so grounded in having that finite floor below and in front of us. I found it really disorienting and awe inspiring to not have that.
'GO, GO, GO!!!' - and I was away. I was on a static line so I didn't have to worry about pulling a ripcord - a 2 second drop , a heavy tug and the chute caught air. The first thing you're to do is check that the chute is fully open; that was fine. Second, you make an 'L' with your feet and start gauging your rate of travel using fixed objects on the ground, find the drop zone and estimate whether you'll under/over shoot the zone. I figured I wasn't going quite make the zone and had to avoid some phone/hydro lines on the near side so I turned into the wind to slow my travel. That seemed to be working fine so I continued on my way down enjoying the view, sensation and experience of the trip. Pure exhilaration!!!
During our training we'd been told that, as we were using old round military style chutes, we weren't to try manoeuvring in the last 200 feet of descent. Like I said, I had been travelling into the wind. At 150 feet the wind direction switched, coming from behind me and making me pick up speed. By the time I reached the ground I was moving at 35 -40 mph and when I pitched and rolled in that farmers field it was like hitting concrete. Broke one ankle and sprained the hell out of both of them, a big scrape up one cheek, sore hips, knees, shoulder. I kept trying to stand and signal to the pick up team; couldn't understand why I couldn't stay standing. I was a little dazed, shocky and swearing like a trooper as the waves of pain started rolling. They eventually got me back to the base, called an ambulance and delivered me to the local emergency department. Funny, the attendants, nurses and doctor were completely, uniformly unsympathetic.
Once I was outfitted with a cast and crutches I was picked up by an aunt & uncle who lived not too far away and they put me up for the night. Vicki picked me up on the Sunday morning and I don't think I've ever seen anyone so angry; she was positively steaming. She lived up to her nickname that day - "Big Red'. I swear she aimed for every lump, bump and pothole in the road on that long loudy SILENT ride. She didn't take me home either; she dumped me at my parent's home for them to look after me. I think I was there for 3 full weeks. I missed work that first Monday but worked the rest of the week from a wheelchair.
The moral??? Make sure your bone structure can withstand the activity?? Drink more milk?? Carpe diem?? Go for the gusto?? With pleasure comes some pain???
Dunno - but it was a blast that I wouldn't trade despite the consequences.
Labels: excitement, injury, parachuting, thrills
posted by Norm at 2/23/2007 02:32:00 AM
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