My First Skydive

Had you asked me several years ago whether I’d ever jump from a plane 14,000 feet in the air, my response would have been something like: “Are you nuts?”

Fast forward to February 13, 2011, and I’m perched on the edge of a single-engined airplane 14,000 feet in the air, ready to make my first skydive. In a matter of seconds, I’ll be hurtling towards the ground at 220 km/h, my life depending entirely on a rectangular strip of rip-stop nylon. Should this nylon parachute fail, then both my jumping partner Mike and I are going to make our exit from this world in a rather sudden and decisive manner.

Despite this, I don’t feel at all nervous. In fact, I can’t wait to jump!

Why the change of heart?

It all started during a plane trip in January this year, when I browsed through the Regional Express inflight magazine and came across an article about skydiving. The reporter had visited the flourishing skydiving community of Coffs Harbour in New South Wales, interviewed some experienced divers, then made the big jump himself. Before I’d even finished reading the article, I knew I’d be skydiving real soon. If I could experience even half the buzz this reporter was gushing about, then skydiving was something I just had to experience for myself.

Time to Roll

Just over a month later, my brother Mark and I are strolling onto the airstrip at picturesque Goolwa, ready to board the small plane that will fly us to 14,000 feet. We’ve been briefed on the requisite jumping and safety procedures, and now it’s time to roll.

The plane takes a good 15-20 minutes to reach full height. With a kilometer to go, the door of the plane opens, and it’s at this point my heart rate starts to speed up with excitement and anticipation. Me and my tandem partner Mike, a likable high-energy guy who has done over 3,000 jumps, begin squeezing onto the tiny platform outside the plane. We finally get into position. We rock back, then forward, and then…

Holy $#%&!!

In an instant, we’re in free-fall and I’m staring at planet Earth over four kilometers below! There are no words to describe the massive sense of exhilaration I’m feeling at this moment!

As I fall, I begin to notice something odd – despite traveling toward the ground at a speed that would have my car immediately impounded if I was on terra firma, it feels like I’m floating on the spot during the minute-long free-fall. The only indication I’m moving rapidly is the rush and noise of the wind in my ears. The rapidity with which I have been falling is finally hammered home when the main parachute is released – in an instant, and an almighty jolt, I go from over 200 km/h to 80 km/h. Things suddenly become a lot quieter, and it’s at this point I can sit upright and enjoy the view at a more leisurely pace. And on this fine sunny Sunday, with not a cloud in the sky, the view over Goolwa, an hour south-east of Adelaide, is truly beautiful.

After a few minutes of taking in the breathtaking view, it’s time to land. We glide in without a hitch, then wait for my brother Mark and his jumping partner to coast in. And then it’s back home to celebrate with pizza (yeah, I know, Paleolithic man didn’t eat pizza, but he didn’t jump out of planes either…)

To anyone who is contemplating skydiving, my advice:

Do it!

People skydive for all sorts of reasons; some purely for the massive adrenalin rush, others for more profound reasons such as overcoming their inner fears. Whatever your motive for making the big leap, I strongly encourage you to stop procrastinating, throw down the gauntlet, and relish what will easily be one of the most amazing experiences of your life. The rush is truly enormous, and don’t be surprised if you find yourself swaggering around for the next month or so feeling ten feet tall, indestructible, and equipped like an untamed stallion (ladies, you’ll have to settle for feeling ten feet tall and indestructible :)). Seriously, the dopamine boost from skydiving is as long-lasting as it is huge…it’s been over two months and I still can’t wipe the smile from my face!

Much is made about the risk of skydiving, but when you are tandem jumping with a pro that has thousands of jumps under his belt, the risks are minimal. Leading up to the dive, I kept asserting to friends who’d thought I’d finally lost my marbles that the most dangerous part of skydiving was the drive to the airstrip and back (this assertion almost proved a little too prophetic, thanks to an oncoming motorcyclist who inexplicably and momentarily veered into our lane on the way to Goolwa. Note to Motorcyclist: Early-afternoon naps are a great idea, but not when you’re traveling at 100 km/h on a one-lane-each-way country road…).

A Load of Bull

Recently, I was out shopping and bumped into a Spanish acquaintance who used to train at the old YMCA in Adelaide. We were discussing his annual trips to Spain when he started enthusiastically telling me about the running of the bulls in Pamplona and how I just had to experience it for myself. My immediate reaction was: “Are you nuts?”

Uh-oh…

My first skydive on February 13, 2011. My bro Mark’s jump is shown at 4:40.

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For information on skydiving at picturesque Goolwa, visit the Skydive Goolwa website.