“Sure.
I’ll watch you fall twenty-thousand feet and go splat.”
That was my
response when my friend Brian told me he wanted to go skydiving, and he wanted
me to watch the first-time experience.
It was something he had wanted to do for years, while I had never given
it much thought. Thrill-sports aren’t
high on my list of fun things to do, because I generally find them un-thrilling
as they invoke no emotion for me.
Initially, I was going to stand there with a camera to take pictures of
Brian plummeting like a brick, but I ended up doing it with him on a whim. It turned out to be most relaxing moment I
ever had.
We drove from Austin to the small Texas
town of Fentress
to reach the place where Brian would go skydiving, and I would be the witness
to his demise. Upon seeing the wrecked
plane with a sign that read, “There’s no such thing as a perfectly good
airplane,” we knew we had reached Skydive San Macros. “When your body ends up looking like that,” I
commented to Brian, “I’m taking your CD collection.”
“I’m going to pay the
extra hundred to have the videographer jump with me to record the whole thing,”
Brian commented.
“Good,” I smiled. “Something for your mother to show at your
funeral.”
It ended up being
overcast that day, so the tandem jumps couldn’t be done then, due to the lower
cloud ceiling. Because the clouds were
lower, it affected visibility and did not allow for a safe tandem jump. Brian and I watched the skydivers descend
from around 14,000 feet, pop their chutes open, and land with a graceful run. I had to admit, it looked pretty interesting.
A single
experienced skydiver can drop from as low as 13,000 feet and land safely. But when going tandem, the jump must start at
a higher altitude (around 21,000 feet) because of the additional weight of
another person. Tandem diving is when
the inexperienced skydiver is a passenger attached to the experienced dive
master by four carabiners. The dive
master has the altimeter, parachute, and the reserve chute. You have four pieces of metal, one at each of
your shoulders and hips that attach you to your dive master. Better hope your dive master likes you.
We came back the
next weekend, when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. By that time, I had decided to shell out the
$150 as well so I could also go on my own jump.
Brian loves thrill rides and screams like an excited little kid on
roller coasters. I, on the other hand,
have a fear of falling. Not heights, but
falling. I love to be at the top of tall
buildings and peer over the edge. I just
don’t like the idea of tumbling over the side.
In reality, I guess it’s not really a fear of the fall itself, but the
sudden stop at the end.
Once shelling out
the cash for the jump, it was time to go through the scary first step of
preparation. We were given an eight-page
form to fill out that we had to initial each paragraph to show that we read
this and would not hold them liable if there was an “oops.” At the bottom of each page in big bold
letters was the warning, “Serious injury or death could result from skydiving.”
“That helps calm
the nerves,” I joked when filling out the forms.
For all the
mocking I gave Brian about the whole thing, many people go skydiving every year
without any negative incidents. If it
wasn’t safe, then the public wouldn’t be allowed to do it. All the dive masters are certified to be
doing this, and are very safety conscious.
After a twenty minute
prep from my dive master on what to expect and what needed to be done for a
successful jump, we suited up in a coverall designed to keep you warm at high
altitudes. The two-prop plane took us up
above the Texas
landscape, which took about twenty minutes to get to the proper altitude. Once the outside door was opened, we were
told this was our last chance to turn back.
Inching up to the
door of the plane attached to my dive master, my knees shook only a little bit,
but my heart was racing. Looking out the
door of the plane I could see the ground so far below, and really got a sense
of how high up I was.
“Ok, we’ll go on a
five count,” my dive master said to me, over the roaring engines of the plane
that now filled the cabin because of the open door.
“Don’t tell me!” I
said. “Just go!”
My dive master
started counting out loud, then tumbled us out right after “three.”
We fell forward
and exited the plane in a fetal-like position to make sure we wouldn’t catch on
anything, but once out we unfolded, and arched our backs forwards with limbs
spread out to create as much drag as possible.
Except for the wind, which was like sticking your head out a car window,
there was no sensation that your were falling at terminal velocity (roughly 120
miles per hour, or 25 feet per second).
I couldn’t hear Brian’s shouts of excitement nearby. I was too busy with my own experience.
I looked out
around me, seeing the landscape stretch out for miles and miles. At that point, the shaking in my knees was
gone, and my heart was no longer racing.
I was so calm and peaceful. The sensation
was like floating in the sky, the closest a human can get to flying on their
own power. I’ve seen this view of the
world below from the window of my airplane or the basket of a hot air balloon. But to be completely surrounded by sky, that
gave a feeling that was far different from any thing else I had experienced before. It was thrilling, but not in the way I
might’ve expected.
Any of the anxiety
I had before was gone. It was the most
peaceful experience I had ever had. It
was the point of utter calm you strive for in mediation. It was my ultimate Zen moment. I was so immersed in the serenity of the
situation. All the relaxation and
breathing techniques I’d tried in the past weren’t able to provide me with this
experience. With no sensation of
falling, I was suspended in the moment. For
me, time no longer existed.
Ninety seconds
later there was a jarring feeling as the main chute opened up to slow our
descent. My dive master controlled the
chute to spiral back and forth for an interesting ride, while I got to enjoy
more of the scenery. At that point I no
longer had a fear of falling. In the
back of my mind, I knew if the main chute failed we had the reserve chute. And if the reserve chute failed, I guess I
would just try to fly, figuring I didn’t have anything to lose at that point.
About five minutes
later we were coming up to the ground, and although we had slowed significantly
due to the parachute canopy, we were still going pretty fast. As previously instructed, I tucked my knees
up to my stomach so when we touched down, my dive master would but his feet
down first to stabilize us and absorb some of the impact. When commanded, I put my feet down on the
ground, and we tumbled forward on to the ground to burn off the last of our
inertia. After being unhooked from my
dive master, I thanked him for a great trip.
Walking over to
Brian, who had landed moments after me, I noticed he was howling like his team
won the Super Bowl. “That was so
awesome!” he screamed with a grin. “I am
so pumped! Wow! How was it for you?”
I smiled and
calmly replied, “It was cool.”
“Dave! You just fell from airplane! You skydived!
And all you can say is ‘It was cool’?
Didn’t you enjoy it?”
“Of course I
enjoyed it, Brian. I now know what it
feels like to fly. It was the most
calming experience I have ever had.” And
it is something that I will go back and do again.
Skydive San Marcos is located about halfway between Austin and San
Antonio , east of Interstate 35. Further information can be found online at www.skydivesanmarcos.com.
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