I walked towards the aircraft
as it stood on the apron waiting to take me skywards. The nearer I got to it
the noisier it became and I could actually feel the noise as something painful.
Yet I was attracted to this plane like metal to a magnet. The knots in my
stomach were tightening and even my suit seemed over-tight. I looked around at
my fellow passengers and wondered what they were feeling.
I
tried to put all this mental discomfort out of my mind.
As I
climbed the steps to reach the open doorway I could feel the warm air from the
engines flowing over me. A uniformed crewmember indicated where I should seat
myself and, as the heady stench of the aviation fuel made me feel faint, I was
relieved to sit down.
Using
aircraft to get where I needed to be was a necessity though I supposed that I
could always use a hot air balloon even though the journey would take an
inordinate length of time. I could still reach my destination, but it just
wasn't practical. The engines suddenly got noisier and the aircraft began to
creep forwards. That dreaded time was approaching when the plane would take
off, yet every time this happens, I still marvel at how it would lift up into
the air. Just before that moment of relative quiet as the wheels leave the
ground, I always have a sense of panic thinking that the take-off won't happen.
I feel fear. I can taste it and it's metallic.
Then
the plane lifted me up and began the steep climb into the sky where the
tumbling acrobats performed their acts.
Time
passed.
I
could hear someone talking out aloud, almost shouting, just to be heard above
the din of the engines. I turned my head towards the co-ordinator's face as I
looked up.
"Are
you ready?" he asked.
"Yes,"
I managed in a meek voice.
The
moment was now very near when I knew that the knots in my stomach would leave
me.
"We'll
be over the target area in about two minutes," he said.
Two
more minutes. A veritable lifetime, but I'd done this many times. Many
lifetimes and although I didn't feel particularly focused in my thinking I knew
that I was, with that icy calm as it comes over me. Absolute concentration. I
was prepared and reflected upon the first time I'd been in this situation when
I'd felt real dread and that the knots in my stomach couldn't get any tighter.
I hadn't been sick. It wasn't that type of unsettled feeling.
Just
simple tension. Simple.
I
remembered that someone had once told me the difference between excitement and
fear cannot be described since the sense of awareness is almost identical. I
wasn't feeling fear and my excitement increased as I heard a distant: "One
minute".
If I didn't know I was excited, I could still imagine I was really fearful.
Terrified.
Movement
of my fellow passengers around me heightened the sense of urgency. Countdown
was now in terms of seconds and the sound of the aeroplane's engines cut through
my thoughts with a staggering suddenness.
Twenty
seconds.
The
final minute was almost completed. The countdown nearly over.
I
looked in front of me. A blue emptiness dotted with wisps of white, but nobody
was there. Through my helmet I could only feel the vibrations caused by the
engines, but the rush of the wind passing by the open door combined with the
firm tap on my shoulder signalled the unheard command:
"Now."
My
gloved hands pushed backwards against the doorframe at the same moment that I
forced my feet downwards against the floor in a well practised, almost
automated, movement. I stepped out into the void. The shocking feeling of the
floor vanishing was fantastic and the sensation of the wind was immediate as my
goggles were forced into my face. I had cleared the aircraft and was plummeting
to Earth. I dipped my head mimicking the speed dive of a predatory hawk,
falling faster even though I could not detect that as a different sensation.
The
knots in my stomach had gone and my sense of exhilaration multiplied a hundred
times. No. A thousand times. An unquantifiable excitement filled my mind. My
earlier tension had been soothed by adrenaline. I couldn't imagine a more
glorious feeling than free falling to Earth on a certain one-way trip, just
like an aircraft once it has left the ground and has only one way of returning.
Down.
My
feeling of excitement filled me to bursting point. I glanced at the altimeter
strapped to my forearm and it seemed to almost unwind counting rapidly
downwards. I was back in that earlier countdown scenario, but this time was
different. I wasn't visualising. Imagining. This was real and happening. Now. I
was in my element. I felt the unstoppable urge to somersault. I rolled over
very fast. I did it again. The sensation of total freedom was complete.
Literally, nothing on Earth could match this moment.
My
feet pointed upwards, legs bent at the knees, as I fell face downwards towards
the ground and with my arms held out in front of me I reached out to link hands
with my eight other team members to form a circle. Symbolically, everyone was
an equal and responsible for each other.
Moments
later, we disengaged hands and moved off at different angles to create a
stacking pattern each jumper well clear of the next. The feeling of falling was
countered by the push of the wind trying to stop me. Impossible. I was
travelling so fast, but the illusion was real. There was no guide to my
movement, but the ground was rushing inexorably towards me, yet it appeared to
be stationary.
Was I
going down or was the ground coming up? Peculiar. I could never distinguish the
two opposite movements and it was like sitting on a train while it is standing
at a station next to another train. Any movement could be the train I was
sitting in or the other train. It is impossible to tell the difference until
some other event destroys the illusion.
My
feet gently touched the ground and I collected up the dancing red fabric trying
to float ahead of me. Unhooking my parachute harness and removing my helmet, I
carried my bundle expertly while leading my colleagues one behind the next in a
perfectly straight line as we walked towards the applause of the crowd.