This insanity was first brought about by my friend April, who had apparently been goaded into it by another friend. First she emailed me, and much to her chagrin, I said I was in. Then it snowballed until there were 9 people that wanted to come. So she picked a weekend out of her busy schedule and I booked a flight to Calgary. That's where she lives, so consequently that's where we all decided to meet.
Let's start by saying I'm no stranger to self-inflicted peril. My name is Sara, and I am an adrenaline junkie. I've accumulated almost 4 hours airtime in a paraglider, I've dangled 100 feet over a raging river suspended only by a 6 mm climbing rope, I've bungee jumped not once, but twice, I've climbed 50 foot frozen waterfalls while blindfolded, and I can now proudly say that I've also jumped out of an airplane. Given all that I've done, you'd think that jumping out of a plane at 9500 feet would barely cause a blip on the radar. Not so, my friends. We're talking free fall, here. That's plummeting towards Earth, completely untethered, relying on only some thin cords and nylon material to stop you. I was terrified. But you can't let a little thing like fear stop you. Plus it was on the bucket list, so I had to.
We arrived in Calgary on Friday night, and spent the night at April's. The next day we headed out to Beiseker, where there was a tiny airport with some very nice, very insane skydiving instructors. We watched a short video, then got a quick tutorial from a soft-spoken gentleman who explained what would happen once we actually got in the airplane. That's right, the proper exiting procedure. From the plane. While in flight. I was nervous up to this point, but this really hammered it home. I was going to jump out of an airplane.
After this we actually had to wait a while for the group that had been booked in the morning to go, as some weather had rolled in and prevented them from going up at the right time. And, as fate would have it, some weather rolled in just as the first few of our group were about to go. They could only take 2-3 people up at a time because of the size of the plane, so we had to go in shifts. They sent us off to town to get something to eat and promised to call as soon as they were able to jump again. About an hour later, we were back in the hangar and my sister and I were suiting up. We would be going up first, just the 2 of us, our tandem instructors, and the pilot.
They gave us flight suits, which, though not very fashionable, turned out to be incredibly practical. They blocked the wind, kept you reasonably warm, and kept any of your clothes from flapping or getting in the way. We were also given soft helmets (which one of the instructors told us were sometimes called "dick heads" for obvious reasons), goggles and a harness. The harnesses were very well padded, which actually went a long way in making me feel a little more secure.
Then it was into the plane. My instructor, a lovely man named Dave, hopped in, followed by me (where I got to sit in a, well, interesting position between his legs), then Jana and her instructor. Picture 4 people on the floor and one pilot in a seat crammed into a tiny tin can like sardines, with the smell of fear thick in the air. The plane ride to altitude, in this case 9 500 feet, took about 20 minutes. The longest 20 minutes of my life. I was terrified. I was so scared I was actually shaking. Dave said at one point he could actually feel me shaking. But once you're in the plane there's no chicken tickets. The only way you're getting back to the ground is by jumping out. He pointed out a few things to me as we were riding up, like that you could see downtown Calgary at one point, and he did keep showing me our altitude on the altimeter on his wrist. Strange as it may seem, the higher we went the safer and calmer I started to feel. More buffer until I hit the ground? Perhaps. Either way it just made me feel a little better the farther up we went.A little bit before they opened the door they tightened up all the straps and gave us a quick refresher as to what to do once the door opened and it was our time to go. In the case of me and Dave, we had to scoot over and back so that we were positioned right once Jana and her guy were out of the plane (how many people get to see their sister disappear out the door of a moving airplane?). Then I had to get my left foot out the door and onto a step just over the landing gear. Landing gear that was 9500 ft above the ground. Then I would get my other foot out. At this point I might add that this was not as simple as it sounds. It was a small airplane, and the door wasn't very big. So I actually had to grab my ankle and force my foot closer to me to get it outside. Then, once my body was basically outside the airplane, I had to cross my arms in front of me and lean my head back onto his shoulder. Then he'd count to three and we'd be off. Let's just say it was a good thing he was the one pushing us out, 'cause I'm not sure I would've been able to do it myself. Then we were supposed to assume the position, which was to arch our backs, put our knees together and bend them as far as possible to try and reach the instructor's butt. Then, when we were clear of the plane, they would give us a tap and we could extend our arms to feel the full force of the wind.
So this is how it went. We reached altitude and they opened the door. They opened the door! While the plane was still moving! A gush of rushing air came into the plane and Jana was already wiggling her feet outside. Then, in a flash, they were gone. My sister was rushing to Earth with nothing holding her back. Just like that. Then it was our turn. And Dave didn't take his time getting us to the door either. No time to think once the door's open. We reached the door and I had no time to back out once we got there, as I popped my feet out as fast as I could. Then I crossed my arms, leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Why? Because I didn't want to scream, and I would have if my eyes were open. Then there was a countdown that I didn't really process and we were falling. Falling through the air. There was that momentary feeling of falling that you get when your car goes over a big bump. That feeling of your stomach up in your throat as you completely lose control of your surroundings. But then that passed and I opened my eyes and we were still falling. Plummeting towards Earth. It was amazing. In all of the insane things I've done I've never felt anything like that. The wind was rushing past us so fast we couldn't hear a thing, and I remember the feeling of it rushing up my nostrils, making it a little harder to breathe than normal. But it was incredible. Exhilarating.
Then Dave pulled the chute and we came to a quick stop. Well, not a stop, really, but we definitely slowed down a lot. They warned us before we went up that it takes the parachute 1000 feet to open once it's pulled, so not to worry if it took a bit. Well, I didn't even know that Dave had pulled the chute until I heard it rustle behind us and felt the tug as we were slowed down.
As we were waiting for our turn to go up in the plane, Jana's husband looked up how long it takes a human body to reach terminal velocity in a free fall (that is, the highest speed at which an object can fall based on gravity and the amount of drag that object has). 20 seconds. At 9500 feet we were in free fall for about 40 seconds. So we reached terminal velocity. Oh yes we did.
Once the chute was open, as the tandem person who doesn't control the wing, you kinda just hang there like a piece of meat until you land. But they did take us for some fast and slow spins, which was cool. This part for me wasn't overly exciting, because as I mentioned before, I have nearly 4 hours of airtime as a paraglider pilot, which is very similar to an open parachute. A little more comfortable, though. Though with those parachutes they can do some fast spins that, while you're in the air, take you nearly upside down, which is a little freaky. And the centrifugal force doesn't really hit you for a second in the spins, but when it does it's pretty strong. Sorta like riding a rollercoaster, without the safety railing. And while you're 4000 feet above the ground.
Landing was an interesting experience, too. They try and get you to lift your legs as high as possible as you're coming in so your feet don't get in the way of the instructors. It's all good in theory, but when you've got those straps tightened around your thighs it gets really, really hard to lift your legs at all. In which case they go for the "butt landing", whereby they use their legs to lift up yours and you slide onto your butts to land. Sure, it's not particularly graceful, but it works. All of us made a safe landing with no serious injuries (other than maybe a little wounded pride).
So April did scream. Not once the chute was open, but apparently as they were falling. We're taking her word on that because we couldn't hear her from the ground. Her sister Adele screamed as well. Neither Jana nor I screamed, which I think says something about the toughness of the Damgaard ladies in general. Glen wouldn't admit to screaming even if he did, so we'll exclude him from the get-go. Everybody jumped. Nobody peed their pants or threw up. All in all it was a good day.
Jumping out of that plane on Saturday was the most terrifying, exhilarating, amazing, crazy thing I've done in my entire life. And I've done some weird stuff. And it was all over in a matter of minutes. But I'd do it again in a hearbeat. In fact, should I ever get the opportunity, I will definitely do it again. It was the biggest rush I have ever felt.
And for the record, Dave has been puked on 7 times doing tandem skydives.
1 comment:
I didn't know you still posted on your blog, good commitment I gave up long time ago. You are crazy by the way,just in case you didn't know. :)
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