Point Break

It simply wouldn't do to stay in Queenstown and not throw yourself off or out of something from a great high, and having been denied all ather skydiving opportunities to date by persistent bad weather, I was determined that now was my time. You can imagine my delight therefore, or perhaps you can't, when i awoke one morning to clear blue skies and sunshine and ran downstairs to the booking office to make arrangements. Alan was less delighted when I roused him from his hungover snoring to tell him that in 3 hours he would be throwing himself out of a plane at 12,000ft. Mark opted to do the Nevis bungee jump instead - from 134m giving 8.5 seconds of freefall - the appeal fo which I will never understand. Perhaps it is the sheer distance from the ground at the moment of the jump which makes the risk inconceivable, but for some reason it never for a second occurred to me to be afraid, while Alan was a nervous wreck, desperately trying to find someone else in our group who would empathise. We suited up in devilishly attractive all in one jump suits, goggles and leather flying cap and met our jump partners (instructors who are doing on average 10 jumps a day!) and walked out to our little plane with the obligatory fanged shark painted on its nose cone. Squeezed less gracefully than sardines into its tiny interior, Alan grimaced with every slight turbulance while I excitedly chatted to Scott, my instructor, as he strapped me to his harness. Admiring the gorgeous view, we quickly reached altitude and the pilot nodded his ok to the first party. Now this guy was a qualified solo jumper who had several hundred 'pleasure jumps' under his belt, and looked vastly underdressed in a hoodie and shorts, his tiny backpack chute barely big enough to hold a picnic and no comedy leather skull cap or goggles to his name. To Alan's absolute horror he flung open the door and unceremoniously hurled himself out, leaving a glaringly dramatic space where there had once been a person. Al, of course, was next! Shooting a final look of desperation in my direction and, I suspect, muttering a stream of expletives and blasphemies, he manoevered himself to the door ....

Last to jump, I lowered myself out of the plane door until I was dangling over the void, held in place only by my instructor still sitting on the rim, and had a few breathtaking seconds to take in the rush of air and the immediacy of the enormous view before we rocked forwards, my stomach flew to my mouth and quickly returned, and I was screaming with amazed excitement and pleasure, "Oh my god this is SOOO beautiful!" You are so far away from the ground that you have no real impression of falling as it doesn't appear ro get any closer, but the sheer speed of free fall buffets you like a giant wind machine and drowns out all other noise and, as if supported by the air rather than falling through it, I grinned for 45 seconds and marvelled at the scenery.

After what felt simultaneously like a spit-second and an eternity, my instructor tapped me on the shoulder and pulled the shoot, and just like that all noise was silenced. Gradually I became aware of the canopy billowing gently above me and as we glided (glid/glode?) our way earthwards Scott pointed out various features of the landscape and threw in a few dramatic spirals just for fun. As I picked out the finve canopies below me, the landing site came in to focus, the sound of birds drifted our way and the heat of the day enveloped me. All too soon we were landing, but did so in style, with both of us joggin got a standing halt, earning a round of applause from the other instructors. Awesome.

To be continued ....

written by  Alex Kent on December 13, 2007 from Fernhill, New Zealand
from the travel blog: On the Varieties of Nature
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