Although I have never abseiled, and the idea does appeal, I just can’t see it providing as much of a thrill as parachuting. Somehow, one night in The Cross Keys, our barmaid, Sam, and one of the regulars, Terry, thought that, as part of our annual charity fund-raising, the three of us should do a parachute jump.
We travelled up to Sibson airfield, near Peterborough (and bordering the A1, which was a tad worrying). After a day and a half of training, the time had come. We strapped our chutes on and clambered into the Islander aeroplane. We were doing a ‘static-line’ jump, which meant that the tops of our packs were connected to the plane by a line. When you jump the line goes taught and opens the chute automatically (hopefully). We were equipped with a spare chute, which would have to be operated manually if the first chute had not deployed within four seconds of leaving the plane.
There were seven of us jumping and, so that everyone could be dropped in roughly the same place, the plan was that the first person would jump, the plane would circle round to the same place and drop the next two, then circle round again and drop two more etc. I was No.2. As the first person got ready to jump the plane slowed to almost stalling speed, Cornelia, the jump-master gave the command, ‘Go’, and he dropped from the plane, counting “One thousand - two thousand - three thousand - four thousand” as he went.
As the plane circled round to the drop point, I had to shuffle forward to the open door. I will never forget the feeling when I heard the engine slow down and I had to swing my legs outs the door and perch, with just my right bum cheek and my hands in the plane. You are warned not to look down, but I couldn’t help it. It was only about 2,500’, but the Earth still looks a very long way down at that height. Before I could gulp Cornelia shouted ‘Go’ and I flung myself out from the plane. I assumed the ‘starfish’ position and began my count. Unless you have done a parachute (or bungee) jump, you have no idea how quickly you accelerate and plummet to Earth. Later, Sam told me my count changed from a shout to a scream - “One thousand - two thousand - THREE THOUS - FOOOOOUUUUCCCKKKKK!!!!!!” I looked up and watching my parachute billow out above me was such a blissful sight. The gentle float down was all very nice and my much-rehearsed landing was textbook, but the most vivid memory was of that drop in the first few seconds.
Sam and Terry landed safely, about a minute later. “WWOWW!!” was the agreed reaction (it was in the days before OMG!! was invented). We all wanted to get back up there and do it again.
Terry and I continued to go regularly over the next year, or so. I progressed to freefall jumping, with higher altitudes and increasingly longer delays before pulling the ripcord. This meant faster speeds and longer thrills, but that very first jump remains my favourite memory.
I can see the Raigmore tower from where I am currently parked. After writing about parachuting, it doesn’t look very high, although I am sure it will look high enough when I go up there…. if I go up there.
No comments:
Post a Comment