Rule #1: Don’t fuck up.
I’m not an early morning person. My usual routine involves staying up until three or four in the morning, and then waking up by ten. It takes something extraordinary to get me to alter this schedule… like skydiving.
On Friday, I woke up at 6:30AM so that I could drive to Hollister (which is roughly an hour away according to Google Maps) to start my solo skydiving course. According to the coordinator I spoke to, the course should take roughly six hours, and if we completed it early enough and the weather was good, we might be able to get our first solo jump in on the same day.
The course took more like ten hours, packed full of absolutely essential knowledge. Our instructor, Paul, alternated between being deadly serious and really funny, because this is an unbelievably fun and unique sport… but there’s not a lot of margin for error, and mistakes are often fatal. By the time the class was done, it was after 5PM and there was no chance of going on our first jump that day, so I had a full night to sleep on everything I’d learned and obsess about just how crazy I was for doing this.
Crazy enough to wake up at 6:30AM again the next day and get to the dropzone by 8AM so that I could get in as many jumps as possible.
The Level 1 jump is pretty simple. There are two instructors jumping with you, and their job is to evaluate your body position (it matters more than you might think!) and to make sure you can keep a clear head about you while you’re dropping at 120+ miles per hour. So the procedure for jumping out of the plane, once you hit 15,000 feet, is:
- Check in (wait for confirmation from instructor on your right, inside the plane)
- Check out (wait for confirmation from instructor on your left, mostly outside the plane)
- Hips forward, backward, and as you throw them forward again, you arch your back and jump the fuck out of the plane
- Adjust your body position to stabilize yourself as you count to five
- Circle Of Awareness: check the horizon, the altimeter, the instructor on your left for body position feedback/warnings, the instructor on the right for same)
- Check altimeter again
- Three controlled Practice Touches for the pilot chute, the handle you grab and throw out to inflate your chute and slow your descent from a thousand feet every five seconds to a thousand feet per minute
- Check altimeter again (it’s impossible to be too aware of your altitude)
- Maintain a stable body position
- At 7,000 feet, your eyes don’t leave the altimeter
- At 6,000 feet, wave off the instructors, locate the pilot chute handle, and throw that fucker to the side as hard as you can
- Count for five seconds as the parachute inflates
- Inspect the parachute - is it there, is it square, is it full of air?
- Inspect the controls - can you turn left and right, fly straight, and flare the brakes to slow your speed?
- Assuming the chute and the controls check out, you find the landing zone, maneuver to the holding point, and then relax while you fly around
- At 1,000 feet, you begin your landing, heading downwind
- At 600 feet, you turn 90º to the left
- At 300 feet, another 90º left turn
- As you come in to the ground, you flare the brakes at the very bottom to slow down your vertical descent and land on the ground (hopefully without breaking anything)
Most of this procedure is the same for all levels—the Level 1-specific part is basically three practice touches. My Level 1 jump went pretty well; my legs were a little too loose, and I didn’t compensate quite correctly with my left arm as my right went for my first practice touch, but my instructors seemed pretty happy with my jump and they cleared me for Level 2.
For the Level 2 jump, instead of three practice touches, you do two, and after those are completed, you make a 90º left turn while in freefall, and then you adjust your body position so that you move forward instead of staying stable for approximately four seconds. Then the rest of the procedure on the way down is basically the same.
My Level 2 jump went a little bit less smoothly than my Level 1. My turn went really well, but I didn’t start my forward movement until a little later than I should have, and my instructors warned me later that choice was a little risky. Much worse than that, though, was my landing. I was listening to the instructor over the radio as he told me to wait, wait, wait, WAIT, WAIT NOW NOW NOW, and by the time he said “NOW” I was only maybe five or teen feet from the ground; the flare didn’t kick in fast enough, and I hit the ground hard, mainly with my ass. I’m a little surprised that I didn’t break or fracture anything. However, even with the slightly-late decision on my forward movement and my too-hard landing, my instructors cleared me for Level 3.
The Level 3 jump still includes two instructors, but it’s the last jump that does. It sounds simple, too. You jump out of the plane, the instructors give you feedback on your body position, you touch your toes together a couple of times, and then they let you go and you simply maintain a heading—the wind will try to fuck with you and spin you in different directions, and your job is to compensate for that and stay pointed in a single direction.
We left for the Level 3 jump almost immediately after we got back from the Level 2; I didn’t have enough time to sit and think about how much my ass hurt, and so I was still pumped on adrenaline which helped me carry through the pain. I felt like I did pretty well on my Level 3 jump, but I wasn’t sure how well until the instructor’s voice came through on the radio as I was flying around in my parachute.
“That was PERFECT. You don’t even need us anymore. I’m not going to talk you through your landing. You know what you’re doing. Great job!”
My landing went much better the third time than it had on the second, but considering how much pain I was already in, I’m not sure if it was as good as or better than the first one. Still haven’t managed to land on my feet - it’s a good thing that my ass is as fat as it is, in retrospect. (Side note: I wear Vibram KomodoSport shoes, and my instructors kept commenting on how weird/stupid they looked; when I mentioned that I was a little frustrated that I still hadn’t managed to land on my feet, the response was laughter and “Maybe if you didn’t wear such fucking weird shoes…” However, despite the weird looks, I’m pretty sure that the Vibrams prevented me from spraining my ankle on that second landing, so I’m quite happy with them.)
Now I’m cleared for Level 4, which is the first jump with a single instructor instead of two. I’m going to wait until it doesn’t hurt to sit down anymore before I head back out; hopefully I’ll be healed up by next weekend.
