For many people, the idea of skydiving lives on the anti-bucket list: things you know for certain you’re never going to do. Well, for me, it’s on the hell yes list, and I just did it for the second time recently. The first was thirty years ago in college with some buddies, and this time was with my former spouse and our now 18-year-old daughter. Whether it was the company, the perspective that comes with my now-gray hair, or something else, this time was way, way better!
We all did tandem jumps, which means that we were hooked into an experienced professional. This also means that there is very little you have to do, other than keep your arms in at first, and scream once you catch your breath.
The plane reaches jumping altitude rather quickly, which means that your once you take off, you begin circling and climbing at a breathtaking pitch. The ascent, much of which occurs with the jump door open, gives you ten minutes or so to really come to grips with what you’re about to do. Watching the world recede into a patchwork quilt of farms and neighborhoods, all laying in the shadow of the spectacular Rocky Mountains, above which you just soared.
Now it’s go time. The door is open, the plane is in position, and one by one you watch the other jumpers take their turn disappearing out the door as you and your jumping partner march steadily towards the exit. At this point, I expected more fear and resistance, but all I felt was eagerness and joy about what was occurring.
Those first few seconds are a literal blur. You’re wearing goggles, but it takes a second to get your bearings and realize that you’re actually still alive, despite doing the thing your primitive brain was certain would end in your demise. But now you can breath, and scream! And actually fly! The guide shows you how to use your hands and arms and steer yourself this way, then the other. It’s magical beyond reason. And loud! The rushing wind is as intense as the emotion.
A few seconds later and you can really start to look around, noting the landmarks and how spectacular they look from this 12 thousand foot vantage point. What a rush. And then, with the pull of the cord, and a substantial but not uncomfortable jerk, life slows down significantly, as you begin the parachuting portion of the event.
The transition from free fall to parachute is nearly as wild as from plane to jumping. It’s a drastic change, especially in the volume, and the adrenaline you just built up has a chance to course through your now shaking body. Holy shit! is the phrase I think I uttered a few dozen times. Interspersed with “Fu#k yeah!” It was that kind of a rush. And something I think everyone should experience at least once in their lifetime.
More and more I aim to embody the kind of “go for it” ethic that skydiving requires in all aspects of my life, caring less about what other people think (isn’t that always the task?). When I really do give into the flow and go for it, things always tend to work out so well, it’s a wonder I ever entertain doubtful thoughts. But one thing is true: my doubt is diminishing. I’m jumping out freaking airplanes.
P.S. My daughter and ex-wife loved the experience as well, and Avery is already talking about going again.