[Updated] Another Rush!!

Updated: Link to the video of my jump

OK, this post isn't about mountain biking, but it's about something just as exciting. Today [26/October/2008] I went skydiving! It was an absolute blast. I took my son for his 19th birthday and enrolled us in the Accelerated Free Fall solo jump course at Skydive San Diego. My dear friend Beth from Martha's Vineyard came along with the intent to do a tandem jump. Due to concerns about her knee she decided that she didn't want to jump, but after watching how smooth and soft the landings were for several dozen other people, she decided to do the tandem jump after all.

We started out early in the morning, leaving Encinitas at around 6:30am and arriving at the Otay Lakes site just a little before 8am. Our course was scheduled to start at 8, but as was to be expected, there was paperwork to do and after waiting for late arrivals, so we finally got started with ground school around 9.

Once we got going, ground school went pretty fast with only 6 people in the class. We learned hand signals that the in-air instructors would be giving us. We also learned the correct position for free fall, how to control the chute once it was open, the mechanics and parts of a parachute and how to recover from possible malfunctions. It was a bit awkward, in my opinion, that the last 45 minutes of the class were about possible malfunctions, rather than ending the class on a more positive note by burying the unlikely malfunctions in the middle of the class.

We also spent a good amount of time going over the airplane exit procedures and body position. The all important "arch" was drilled into us from the moment we got into the classroom.

My son and I were the first to practice the exit procedure with an actual chute on. Man, they were a lot heavier than I would have thought, and after twenty minutes with them on, my shoulders were screaming.

The instructor had us lay on the ground to practice the free fall arch position, while he came around to check whether we were "relaxed" enough and in the right position to allow him to flop us around. With the chute still on, it was not easy to keep in a good position. I was really glad when he told me to let someone else try on the parachute.

After the ground school was finished, we sat around and waited to be manifested on a plane. This was one of the points where Skydive San Diego appeared to be unorganized, at least for the uninitiated. After about an hour of waiting, I decided to ask what the deal was, and was told that we'd be jumping around 3pm. With about 90 minutes to spare, I decided that we should head off to East Lake Village to pick up some lunch (since the only food that they had on site were burgers and pizza, neither of which was very enticing to me. My son decided to order a specially made sushi roll, and the fellow making it was about as slow as he could possibly be and still make progress. After about 10 minutes of making the roll, we were back on the road, and another 10 minutes later we were back at the drop zone.


Just as we got back we heard my son's name being called over the loud speaker and he rushed to get a jump suit, parachute and then kitted up.

Fortunately, we were all manifested on the same plane, but while Hakan was suited up and ready to go, there was no one who seemed to be able to provide any information about me or Beth, other than that we were all on the same plane.

After a while, with only about 20 minutes to go before we were supposed to load up into the plane, someone one of my in flight instructors finally showed up and got me kitted up. After suiting up, he ran me through the exit and jump procedures one more time, and then told me to go to the waiting area. Beth took one more picture of Hakan and I before we headed out to the plane, a twin prop Otter.

On the walk out, our camera flyers (I bought the "delux video package" for both of us) filmed us and asked us how things were going.

Once on the plane we took our seats, somewhat crowded together, with Beth all the way at the front of the plane, Hakan a few spaces further back, and I was somewhere in the middle of the plane. I had one of my in-air instructors to my right and one across the isle from me.

As we climbed, the in-air instructors asked me what I would do at the specific altitude we were at. At 5500' I told them I would pull the rip cord. At 6000' I told them that I would wave off and reach for the rip cord. It was at that point that all the training seemed to disappear from my head. When they asked me what the different hand signals meant I couldn't remember "Circle of Awareness" (checking the altitude on the altimeter and scanning the horizon.) I recovered my composure, but felt very awkward for having forgotten something so basic.

When we got to 13000' they opened the door and people started jumping out. Very quickly the back half of the plane was empty and it was my turn. One in-air instructor positioned himself outside the airplane and the other just on the inside.

I shouted "Check In" to the instructor inside and "Check Out" to the outside instructor, each responding with "Check". I looked down but VERY quickly decided it was best to just look forward at the propeller and wing. I then ran through the three steps: "Drop" (lowering my shoulder so I was no longer wedged in the doorway), "Prop" (I continued to look forward at the propeller), and "Jump" (stepping out of the airplane). Strangely enough, just writing this has caused my heart to race and give me butterflies in my stomach.

As I started to fall, I could feel the turbulance of my body and tried to figure out how to make them stop. Then, one of my instructors shook me, reminding me to relax and arch. I did so, and all the turbulance stopped and the free fall felt very smooth.

They ran me through the different skill checks (altitude awareness, practice handle touches, more altitude awareness) and kept telling me to straighten out my legs. They were giving me hand signals, to do all this, which would have been much better had I been aware of what it would be like because they seemed to be in the periphery of my vision rather than easily seen. Of course, everything was in the periphery of my mind at this point with the exception of falling. I checked my altimeter and we were at 7000'.

The next thing I knew one of the in-air instructors was telling me to pull the rip cord. I reached down, grabbed the handle and threw it as I had been taught. My in-air instructors were quickly gone below me as my chute opened, leaving me by myself.

The parachute had opened properly and I grabbed the toggles and tested out turning to the right and turning to the left, and then finally flaring to slow the parachute down.

I looked down below me and the ground was quickly approaching (all though, not nearly as fast as it had been when I was free-falling at 120 miles per hour.) I turned this way and that, experimenting with the way that the parachute worked, enjoying myself as I watched the ground approach.

When I got to 1000', I started working my way down the air strip as we had been instructed, turning to cross the airstrip at 500' and then heading into the wind at 250'. At this point I heard a crackle on the radio instructing me that I was doing great. As I approached the ground the voice on the radio told me "not yet", "not yet", "not yet", "not yet" and then finally "Flare". I was about 10' feet off the ground and I pulled the toggles all the way down, bringing me to a very soft landing.

I gathered up my parachute and headed back to the waiting area. I was looking for Hakan and Beth as I walked, and just as I got to the fence, Beth and her Tandem Instructor came floating down. Beth had a smile on her face that was so big, it extended past her ears! I still didn't see Hakan anywhere. There was only one more person descending, and I figured that had to be him. He too made a perfect landing.

I dropped my parachute off, got comments on my jump from the in-air instructors who gave me my log book, and decided right then and there that I was going to continue on toward my A-Licence (25 jumps).

We chatted on the way back to Encinitas, everyone was thrilled, excited and stimulated. I feel like I've embarked on a new adventure that will keep me engaged for a long time.

Of course, I still have Mountain Biking, so when I'm not jumping out of planes, I'll be riding single track. Now, if I can just figure out a way to combine the two... :)

The ride that turned out the way it did

When my son was little, he would accompany me on many rides. They weren't particularly fast or difficult, but I was sharing Mountain Biking with him and he seemed to enjoy himself too. We had great tales and memories; epic explorations and painful crashes. I would push him to do more than he thought he could (or probably more importantly, more than he wanted to do), but he always rode, and always demonstrated that he was both capable and strong and ended the ride with a smile on his face.

The only problem is that I always had to play a game with him that I didn't want to play: he'd balk at putting in any kind of effort. I'd get him to challenge himself because I didn't really let him believe he had a choice. He'd challenge himself and succeed and then we'd start the cycle over. I don't want this to seem like I drove him until he broke, but I pushed him to always strive to improve. Then he turned into an adult, and at this point I figure he's got to want to do something on his own as it's no longer my place in life to push him or provide experiences to him. It's up to him to push himself and expand on his own.The only problem is that he still tries to play the game. I feel like I'm in one of those damned if I do; damned if I don't situations.

I can say that in the past two years I've missed having the opportunity to expose him to more of the world; we had shared almost 18 years as mountain biking partners, travel partners, experience junkies. I knew him at a level of performance that was strong and willing to push forward. So, today it was particularly hard for me because he was neither. We had arranged to ride together in the early morning, although I can now see from this perspective that it was probably more me arranging for us to ride together. I asked him three times about riding after his initial possible acceptance, so it now I can see that there was no drive to do it from his side. Then, I had asked him to get his stuff together last night so that when I arrived we'd just be able to leave for the ride, but no amount of encouragement worked as he was too drunk and stoned to have real drive or ability to push himself forward. I knew, of course, that his state last night and his refusal to do anything to get ready was not going to bode well for today.

As usual, I was running late, but I had the added burden of getting his bike ready so I'll accept my own failing to get moving as quickly as possible. By the time I got to his house, it was an hour after I was supposed to be there, and then he wasn't ready, and this and that happened, and soon it was almost 10 before we were walking out the door.

By 10:30 we were on the trail, and sure enough, it was getting pretty warm. It was not unbearable, and there was a breeze, but it wasn't cool like it would have been at 7:30. And, at the pace we were riding, I was moist but not dripping. If you know me, you know that means I wasn't really sweating.

I didn't expect him to be fast or fit. Yet, we rode to just past the waterfall in about 30 minutes and he was ready to turn back. He would probably have kept riding if I had asked him to, but I could tell that he didn't want to ride any longer. He also complained of needing to study (which I respect if he's going to do it) and that he was tired and hungry and too hot.

So, we turned around and rode back. Since we hadn't gone very far, the ride back was fairly quick. A few times I zipped down a hill or up a hill and turned around to meet up with him again. As we'd pass I offered a warm smile that I hoped would convey that I was glad that at least we'd been out together, and maybe it was a start to something more. I sure miss him and his companionship and sharing explorations with him, and hope that one day in the near future, before I get to the point where I can't keep up, that he comes back around. Until then, I'll just keep trying.