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.
When I
reached the predetermined altitude, I pulled hard on the ring at the end of the
cord and the parachute opened. I knew that just moments earlier the others
would have done the same in sequence, although I couldn’t see them. My descent
speed was instantly lessened as I seemed to be lifted upwards, though still
falling downwards and drifting sideways clear of any collision path. This
illusion caused by the speed change was truly disturbing, yet exhilarating. The
rush of the air on my face seemed to slow and the pressure of my goggles eased
slightly as I glided towards the ground feet first. I’d be first to land since I opened
my ’chute last.
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.