I Believe I Can Fly

Skydivers and the pilots who fly them have an inside joke. The pilots say to the skydivers "There's no reason to jump out of a perfectly safe airplane," to which the skydivers reply "There's no such thing as a perfectly safe airplane!"

The logic of this eludes me, however, as I find myself in a Havilland Twin Otter flying at 13,500 feet above Ottawa, Illinois, waiting in line to jump out of what appears to be a perfectly safe airplane.

"Just relax," yells Roger Nelson, skydive instructor, author, former world champion, and owner of Skydive Chicago. "Oh sure, no problem," I think to myself as I prepare to do the most illogical, counter-intuitive thing I've ever done in my life. I'm strapped securely, I hope, to Roger as we waddle (about the only way two umbilically attached people can maneuver in the small plane) toward the open door. A couple solo jumpers, including my buddy Larry, have already flung themselves out, as have several other pairs of students and instructors.

When our turn arrives I'm most conscious of the view below. From a height of over two miles the farms are a crazy quilt of green, gray, and black. I cannot believe I'm going to do this.

I try to remember what we've been taught in our "ground school," the one hour class that prepares us for the jump. At Skydive Chicago, the aim is to give the jumper more than just the ride. The jumper is given the opportunity to participate more fully in the skydiving experience by consulting an altimeter during the jump, pulling the ripcord to deploy the canopy, and by helping brake the parachute in the moments before landing. The instructor is always there to control the jump, and if the student forgets or ignores the training, they can still simply enjoy the ride.

My biggest concern prior to the jump was whether I could physically command my muscles, tendons, and ligaments to actually remove my body from the airplane. The question turns out the be moot. The jump master handles this part. As I look out the abyss Roger taps me on the head to get into the jump position. I tuck my thumbs under my arm pits, arch my head backwards, hear Roger yell "One, two, three" and before I know it we're flying toward the ground, a cold wind in my face. A moment or two later there's another tap on my head. The wind is too loud for conversation during freefall. Communications are strictly through a few hand gestures. The tap on my head means that I can spread my arms in a "W" position. I check the altimeter, per my training, see that we're around 12,000 feet. I then reach back to practice pulling the ripcord, mostly just trying to make sure I know where it is. Then I check the altimeter again and repeat the practice ripcord pull.

We're not alone as we hurtle toward the earth. Photographer Steve Verner of Skycam Productions is falling along with us, documenting the proceedings. He"s wearing a futuristic helmet that includes both a video camera and a still camera. He gestures for me to give him a thumbs up for the cameras, then to hold my hands together in prayer, then an isometric pose, like Hans and Franz from Saturday Night Live. He doesn't have to motion for me to smile. I'm aware that I have a huge grin on my face, though don't know if it's from elation or the G-forces on my lips as we approach 120 miles per hour.

Actually, I am thrilled. It's hard to remember much conscious thought during freefall, but I'm disappointed when Roger taps me on the left wrist to remind me to do an altitude check. I see we're nearing 6,000 feet. At 5,500 feet I wave my hands in front so Roger knows it's time for me to pull the rip cord. I reach back, find the hackeysack handle of the cord, give it a light tug, there is a slight jerk as we slow to about 25 miles per hour, and suddenly we're floating instead of flying. Steve disappears below. Experienced skydivers deploy their chutes at around 3,000 feet. He'll meet us on the ground to film the landing.

The six minute ride under canopy provides a tremendous contrast to the freefall. The view is fantastic, the elation is still there, and it's quiet. This must be what it's like to be a bird, I think. We can talk a little now. Roger pulls down two straps, one for each hand, that we use to guide and brake the parachute. He takes us into a counterclockwise turn, then a clockwise turn. We then practice the braking maneuver, which gives the sensation of sitting motionless in the sky. Roger points out another skydiver to our right. I yell out a "hello" as loud as I can, but don't get a response.

Details on the ground become clearer. The Fox River is to our left. The runway that we took off from is obvious, with the large white lettering of "SKYDIVE CHICAGO" prominent against the black asphalt. I can see the landing zone with the skydivers who went before us either preparing to land or already gathering their chutes. Roger guides us in a large semi-circle so we land in the opposite direction from which we were floating. I make out Steve Verner running toward us to record our landing for posterity.

I realize now that I'm not going to die (at least not on this jump). I now concentrate on what they taught us about landing: feet in front, like you're sliding into home plate. When we're less than 50 feet from the ground Roger says we're going to try landing standing up and to be ready for the final braking procedure. A moment later it's "three, two, one" as we pull down on the straps and land upright with a gentle thud. My legs are a little shaky and I feel like I imagine an astronaut does after a space shuttle flight. Steve and Larry are there to greet me. They ask me how I feel and all I can say is "amazing!"


So You Want to Go Skydiving!

According to the United States Parachute Association, over 311,000 people jumped out of an airplane in 1999, making over 3 million jumps. If you're thinking of joining the burgeoning ranks of skydivers you probably have a few questions including:

Why?
A fair question that you should be asking yourself. Jumping out of an airplane is not a natural act and requires a compelling reason. Are you after the thrill, the experience, impressing your friends or yourself, taking yourself out of your comfort zone?

Is it safe?
Another more than reasonable question to ask yourself. The ten page liability waiver you're asked to sign prior to your jump makes you wonder if you should be jumping with your lawyer rather than your jump master.

Regarding safety, it's all relative, though according to statistics, your chance of being killed skydiving is about the same as your chances of being killed while driving your car to the drop zone. 31 people were killed skydiving in 1997. Most were experienced skydivers who pushed the envelope a little too far. Few fatalities involved students. Clearly some risk is involved. It's up to you to decide if it's a risk worth taking.

How much does it cost?
Rates for tandem jumping vary depending on group size and weekday/weekend. Figure on spending about $175 for your first jump. The price should include your ground school, all equipment, and, of course, your jump.

Having your jump videotaped and photographed is an option worth considering. This will typically run another $80-90.

Where?
There are a number of places to enjoy skydiving and other sky sports including:

Skydive Chicago
3215 East 1969th Road, Ottawa, IL
800-SKY-DIVE
www.skydivechicago.com

This article appeared originally in the Spring 2001 issue of Chicago Learning Guide Magazine.