From where I am I can see two things very
significant to me. About half a mile away the foundation for the take
off ramp Evil Kenevil used to attempt to jump his jet cycle over the Snake
River gorge back in the 80s, and, as I am on the wrong (?) side of the guard
rail the 470 ft
drop directly below me that only the heel of my boots and my beige knuckle grip
on the bridge handrail is stopping me falling into. Its been a while, dear
reader, since I did anything that motivated me enough to write about it but being
a baby base jumper is a shot in the arm. There have been all the emotions you
would expect, but unexpectedly out of sync. These are thoughts and feelings
after taking my fourteenth crazy pill..
This time a legal (wohoo!) and crowded hop,
skip and a jump into the Snake River
gorge in Idaho, About a half mile up river from where Evil Kenevil tried to
jump his jet cycle across it back in the 80s. I loved Kenevil as a kid. This is surely a
good omen even if he did crash into the canyon and almost die. There must be
some serious crossing of energy lines in this area.
Till now I never really understood what
soldiers meant when they say that in combat there is no time to be scared. “Oh
really!!” Sez I…“No fuckin time you say!!” You would think with people shooting
at you and bombs going off, if there was time for anything, its shitting
yourself, right? In fact as times go, was there ever a better one for shitting
yourself?
Whoever you think you are, you’ve never
done anything like this before you do it for the first time, so you can never
really be sure how you will react .For me climbing over a guard rail is like
that first shot in combat. I did not really expect it but there is no time to
be scared. In fact, for want of a more politically correct expression, if there
was ever a time not to be gay about something, this is it. Even
as I write this I question my motivations (there are a few), and what, beside
the obvious adventure, would make me go past the stage of thinking, to regularly
undertaking, what some may see, as such
a fool hardly venture, especially for a family man in his forties.Sometimes for no reason during the day I am
scared. Thinking about the next time I will jump and about the jumps I have
already done I am sometimes scared. If I think hard about a small but realistic possibility of my family never
getting me back I am scared, the tears running down my daughter’s unhappy face.
But when I climb over a guard rail? That feeling..? It’s all business baby. The
things that scared me now motivate me. At the point I cross a guard rail
threshold it changes instantly from fear to full power. I HAVE to get this
right and I will.
Swinging the second leg carefully over the
side and pivoting to face outwards I can’t resist a look down, The heels of my boots are all that can fit
onto the 4 inch
wide excess of concrete on the very edge of the bridge. I slide them between
the upright balustrades to get a little extra purchase under them. My grip is
firm on the uprights but not excessive. My nuts were probably bigger when I was 12.You don’t want to fall off the bridge.
Any attempt to open a parachute with a bad body position will make it open off heading and trying to open it while
you are on your back will see you instantly gift wrapped inside it for a fall to certain death. I can see people
on the riverbank down below. They look smaller than my thumbnail. A small crowd
of curious onlookers and jumpers has gathered in the bright sunshine on the
bridge to witness and record the scene.Trucks and cars blow their horns as they see you climbing over. The locals here are used to this.
Is this the ultimate mid life crisis?
Probably not .as I have always been one of the sort of stupid but sort of tough
one way or another and I have never
really had to grow up fully. A little of having faith in the known and being
prepared to stake my life on it is in there. I am a big fan of logic and
demonstrable facts and refuse to make important decisions based on hearsay and
conjecture.
I
also have the somewhat reassuring feeling that the older I get the less I am
risking. After all if you die when you are 18 it’s a tragedy but in your later
years its all, sniff, sniff, well you’ve had your fun Grandad, now lets see
what’s in your will shall we? The sands of time. You see my point?
I understand every step of what I
am doing from the packing to the pulling, to the putting away after on the
jumps I attempt, or I won’t attempt them. At this point I have turned 2 down
already as I did not know enough about the facts. At the point I climb over a
guard rail have no fear because a I have done
everything I can to keep myself safe apart of course from not jumping. At that
point the only thing I’m aware of that can let me down is a weak exit, so it
all business.
Standing on the wrong side of the bridge
guardrail over the 470ft drop into the Snake River
gorge I am somehow reminded of Margret Thatchers advice to George Bush senior
just before the Desert Storm deadline back in the 90s.”...now look here George…” she
tells him sternly over the phone, at this point she is not even PM any
more”…this is no time to go wobbly.” I smile to myself…Iron fuckin bitch. I fix
my eyes on the horizon..
A strong push out into nothingness with no hesitation as soon as my
exit position is comfortable leaves me totally calm. The commitment now of
course is made and I can now only rely on me. In the past however I have always
found myself quite reliable especially when it comes to pulling parachutes
whilst plummeting toward the earth. I have in fact, a 100% record at this so
it is of little concern. A nicely evolving exit trajectory, chest to
earth with no rotation increases the peace even further. Everything is exactly
as I hope and expect, and, after the first second, when I have fallen a mere
16ft,and with a whistling in the wind the ground rush begins. The laws of
physics change at this point, stretching time and space to a slow crawl whilst
my decent speed increases exponentially. 1.5 seconds and a gale begins to blow
force 5. Einstein is proved to be a
genius in my little world, Isolated and alone as I can possibly be with so many
people watching I have the weird, calming but obviously false feeling as I begin
to reach to pull that I have all the time in the world. This is the feeling I
have been told about that sucks people into the basement. Rare occasions when
base jumpers go in without pulling. 2 .5 seconds… Force 10. The unmistakeable
sound of rushing wind is increasing exponentially at this point so
after a solid 3 second delay of course I pull, and nothing happens…or at least
not straight away.
Now I happily surrender to my faith in
myself. All the decisions that have led me to this point are mine and mine
alone. My arms are wide for stability
against the rushing wind in an almost crucifixion type pose as I imagine, just
for fun, what looks like my almost inevitable death approach. At this point It
crosses my mind that if I am wrong about something I’ll probably never know
it,. and my sadistic new friends here, after a suitable period of mourning of course (half an hour or so), will
probably nickname me Wile Coyote. I watch and wonder for the longest way you
could possibly stretch out the last 2 seconds of your life as the ground
continues to rush ever faster toward me and the noise of the wind increases to hurricane
force. This is punctuated not by a change in velocity but by the very slight
but unmistakable (and I might add very fucking reassuring) tug of the pilot
chute pulling the pins from the rig right on cue a split second later. With
around 100 ft
of the 500 or so you started with to spare the violent but welcome crack of the
canopy opening re-aligns my cosmic cerebral sub atomic particles, returning me
mentally to the realm of mere mortals once again. My first real time thought at
this point seems to always be the same: Its about fuckin time that thing
opened. It seems to have taken 20 minutes afterwards for these few short
seconds to pass. The short uneventful canopy ride is soon over with a perfectly
soft landing. Standing up unhurt again with a huge grin looking up at my base
buddies screaming down at me from the bridge above after my 14th jump I know
there is no turning back. I am a base jumper now.
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