My first Sky-dive! - stories of Kerosene Perfume, Life saving Lingerie, Involuntary Vasectomy, the Omnipotent Weather, the wait, and THE JUMP!!!!

"Just jumped out of a plane!!:) 4 seconds of absolute peace - the smoothest canopy ride, before hitting the ground. Definitely doing it again!" - the text message I sent to my parents, twitter, and facebook, after completing my jump would aptly sum up how I felt.

Even getting up at 5:30 a.m. to be picked up at the pick up point at 6:30, and the long 2.5 hr drive - was no hassle considering how great the day was.

GWJ Part 2: The Jump

The previous time we had been to the Drop zone (7th-8th March 2009), we'd completed our training, but the weather would not permit us to jump, since it was too windy. And I mean really windy - somewhere around 40 knots (75 kmph) at altitude and 30 knots (55kmph) at ground level. 5 weeks of resigned waiting, all came down to the day-before-yesterday (Saturday 2nd May 2009). We were hoping we would complete our jumps ASAP, and the weather did not disappoint.

It was beautiful: very little wind (at one point even the ANEMOMETER stopped)- enough to permit us to jump, but also enough help us land smoothly.... (headwind landing to reduce groundspeed as much as possible, since the canopy's airspeed is a fixed 20 miles an hour.)

There were 25 of us who had returned to complete our jumps. After a small refresher course in the morning, to ensure we had not forgotten the procedures to

1. exit the aircraft (what postures to maintain), or

2. carry out our reserve drills. (where we donned a reserve vest- which can only be described as looking like an item straight from a lady's lingerie closet - around our chests. The vest has a cut-away pad which cuts off your main canopy and a handle to deploy your reserve chute, in case of a main canopy malfunction). This, really is your last resort; but things rarely go wrong.

3. There were attempts to quench the fears of one of the others by amassing statistics of malfunctions (don't think it really worked since he was still jittery, and later on we saw three main parachute cutaways - which, being the SMART students that we were, we reasoned should actually make our jumps safer since STATISTICALLY another error was unlikely to occur! Would be interesting to hear people's opinions on statistics and how many people actually believed that post event.)- most of the cases where they've had people die is while attempting some wild landings - which is clearly under your control, as opposed to canopy failure. Our instructor for the day - Tony; who's a really great guy, was really frank in telling us that there was a risk - yes, but statistically lower than your chances of dying in a road accident. He was also very nice and sensibly pointed out that there was no room for lying in the sport, because there are so many ways you can find out the information, and distrust among students and instructors is not really desirable - because then you're less likelier to do it, because you will not trust them about anything. So if there are any of you sitting on the fence - regarding jumping - you should know that is IS a safe sport, and that the instructors really have your interests at heart - in fact he offered to let anyone transfer onto the tandem if they didn't want to continue (which going by the deal the club had negotiated was not permissible). But yeah - that stuff was all N/A in my case. I was dead set on doing RAPS, and the others slowly gained confidence and we proceeded.

4. Next on the agenda were practice exits from the wooden mock-ups in the ground classrooms. Relatively few practice runs were required this time round, unlike a whole day when we trained before easter, and my exits - according to the instructor - were still "Excellent". (The instructors were primarily concerned with our backward arches of the back. This position is aerodynamically symmetric and stable - akin to a shuttle cock falling down - the bulk of the weight is in the centre and below all the other parts - ensures very low if not zero yawing, banking and pitching torque)

Having been signed off, as fit to jump, we now waited for free spaces on the 'manifest' of 'lifts' aboard the Dornier 28 - G92 that was going to be taking all jumpers upstairs that day. The DZ (dropzone) had only 7 static line rigs (i.e. parachutes), so even though our metal bird could take 10 at a time, only 7 students would be able to go on one flight. So they split us up into groups of 7 and one group of four, and we waited. Waited while the Accelerated freefall students, tandem students and instructors, and formation skydiving teams (already manifested) jumped. Taking pictures, solving crosswords, playing pool, having breakfast, and lunch, making new friends and talking to lots of people....biding time. I was manifested on the third lift, so I had a longer time to go.

Everyone was very keen to observe our set of first jumpers, so when they took off, curious eyes stared upwards. The way each lift worked was thus - 7 jumpers are sat in the plane (in reverse order of the jump - i.e. obviously the one who jumps first sits closest to the door, and so on). This is a necessity, because our static line bridles have to be hooked onto a cable in the plane, and you WOULD NOT WANT people getting entangled in others' cables and getting stuck with a static line hang-up (where you're out of the plane, but are still being carried along since you're attached to it with the line...without having your chute deployed ) once they've jumped, or yanking out someone who's not yet ready to go out the door (exiting in a wrong position is dangerous - as it can cause canopy malfunctions / nuisance factors at the least - like line twists etc. - which only the very first jumper got).

Once they've all been bundled in, the airplane takes you up to the drop altitude - 4500 / 4000 feet in our case. Each jumper is dropped on one pass - to give enough vertical room so that two canopies fly into each other. For the same reason, the heavier jumpers; who sink faster, are dropped first. Once you're taken upwind of the drop zone, to the calculated drop point and the red jump-master light is on, the door is opened . We're told by the instructor to assume position in the door (left hand grabs the left side door, and right hand the plane floor, and both your legs dangle out - in an 80mph prop blast), and you're MEANT to look up at the ceiling of the plane. When that light turns green and you hear a go and you GO!

The people who came down on the first two lifts, expectedly gushed about how great it was, and kept the excitement level up for all of us, also making people more ....edgy (I wouldn't say nervous). It's a well documented fact - if you know you're slated to do something exciting, the waiting is the hardest part. When things are finally happening, it takes your conscious mind off of it, and Finally, it was time, and our names were called out on the manifest. (First call is 40 min or so before the actual lift). We were taken to the kit point, and asked to don our "pretty-well used" (read pretty well holed) jump-suits, helmets and pretty heavy rigs (the chutes) ( they must have been in the neighbourhood of 7-10 kgs atleast). After many pictures of us looking like carrots with inverted colour schemes (we had orange helmets and green jumpsuits), the instructors (Tony and Jo) pored over us - checking everything was in order. The instructor at this point can be described as an overzealous barber. Do you recall when he used to wrap a towel, pretty tight around your neck to keep the hair off your body? Well, with respect to the rig - EVERY single STRAP was done up that taut. The policy was simple - you don't float, the chute does, so we're going to keep you attached to it. Nooo...don't ever bother that the method adopted - tighten the strap up completely until it's pinching his skin or until he's asphyxiating, and then loosen it just a bit; causes you discomfort. And yes, it wasn't only with the neck / chin/ chest straps, but with the leg harnesses (that wrapped themselves around your thighs as well). They're one of the main anchor points to the rig, and hence they HAVE to be TIGHT, and sit as close to the torso as possible - to ensure it's not causing you discomfort/ injury by suspending you from your leg instead of the bottom of your trunk/ hip. It will suffice to say that Rajiv Gandhi would have endorsed skydiving. Of course,exaggeration again - But now I know how penguins feel when they walk - (for we figured that walking with the rig on was much more comfy if you walked like a sumo wrestler / penguin). Once everything was as tight as it should be, we boarded the bus and drove out to the plane.

We loaded up, not before I gave the plane a good lookover - a dark green/grey coloured beauty (well I am slightly partial in that I love planes...so all of them are beautiful). This one was geared for sky-diving - a perspex rolling shutter on the left side of the fuselage, with a step and a handle mounted on the top. The boarding started - first were the 3 AFF participants (since they would jump out last), and then our bunch - I was the second one jumping out, and boarded second from last. In the mean time, I got to know the port-side turboprop really well, and we're good friends, although she can be just sliiiiiightly pushy (pushing you back at 80mph). You don't really have seats in the small plane. Everyone was sitting on the floor - in something like an emergency brace position except we had our backs up-right. Everyone got in, and the Tony sealed off the door. The pilot opened the throttle, and in retrospect, that was my first rear-facing take off as well! (i.e. we were all facing the back of the plane, which is why the take off 'load' wasn't felt that much, since it acted on my back and not my chest). We zoomed over the bystanders in the viewing area, and above the manifest and it took all of maybe 3/4 minutes to get up to altitude, circling all the while. Tony pointed out the cross and after a minute or so, opened the door and asked the first guy to get into the door.

"Look up - GO!" - at this point, literally everyone held their breath except the guy jumping out. He was meant to count and started- "Arch thousand" - and that's all we heard, before he flew back. You're meant to actually shout out loud to re-assure the instructor that you're conscious, in control and not panicking. But you can get a sense of what he'd actually done, and what I was about to do from that. He'd jumped out of a plane which was doing ATLEAST 80 mph! From the fact that out of the whole "Arch thousand, 2 thousand, 3 thousand, 4 thousand, check canopy"...(followed by 'is it big, is it rectangular, is it free of damages'- but no one ever bothers), all you could hear was the first two words tells you how fast you drop behind and below that plane. It's far from scary - It's liberating. That may sound like the opinion of someone born to skydive, or an absolute nutter, but that's my opinion.

Tony pulled back the static line bridle (which obviously, remained attached to the plane, and safely stowed the line as well as the pilot chute that it had opened far away from any easy entanglements. The plane flew on and circled round, while I moved up closer to the door which was now shut. Tony evidently wanted to cheer us all up, and told me to show some aggression. At that point, there was only one thought in my mind - to get in the door, and out! Vigorous head nodding and a thumbs-up acknowledged Tony's call. I wanted to yell a loud, confident "YEAAAH", but did not think that would be apt in front of 5 other edgy would be jumpers, and as it is, whatever I shouted was going to be drowned out by the roar of the engines. Tony opened the door about 10 seconds or so before we were at the drop point. The landing cross mark was pointed out to me, as were the three runways that made an 'A' (by now a familiar landmark of the airfield) The arrow indicating the desired direction of final approach (and thus in the opposite direction of wind) was also noticed. After all this, I was asked to get in the door.

I'd always wanted to skydive, and the resolve was stronger after discovering the club at Warwick. When the GWJ came along, and it became economically feasible to jump, it was something not to be missed. I had already placated any fear that might have been inside me - by saying to myself, and others that "I don't mind dying like this". Seriously, you can actually count the remaining cooler ways to die within 2 minutes.

But none of that came into my head. As I got into the door, I was just focused on getting my hand, leg and body positions right, and concentrating on how I would arch. A cold blast of air hit me(minus the smell of diesel/kerosene unlike on the ground)~, and I glanced at the ground.It looked exactly like in the photos of the airfield we'd used for training, & as you'd expect to see it from a commercial airliner, so I was engrossed in finding the familiar landmarks and features. The fact that I was 4000-45000 ft above terra-firma never hit me at that point of time, and surprisingly, there was no psychological barrier to overcome before I got out!! It really wasn't nerve racking, and I'm not beefing up my brevity, or hiding anything!! I then assumed the arched, upward looking position, gazing at the inside roof of the plane- a second of a relatively impatient wait with perked up hearing attempting to pick up the instructor's command, before that simple two syllabled word that set everything into motion.

"Look up!!....GO!!!!"; I jumped. ( ~1600 hrs. BST, 2/05/2009; 2030 hrs IST)

With the plane flying at that speed, the air rushing past the smooth fuselage likes to stay streamlined. As a result, it's quite difficult to actually 'FALL' out of the plane. You have to push- actively, and against the resistance to get out. But as soon as you're out of the streamline, you fall away fast. Notice - all this is being recollected in retrospect. It all happened in split seconds up there. While jumping out, feeling the blast of the prop-wash on my face, I started to yell the count. "Arch thousand..." I was meant to count to four, but it literally took my breath away, and I stopped at one, as soon as the sensation of weightlessness hit me. Having gotten away from the torrid vortices of the prop wash, I was suddenly feasting on the heavenly feeling of freefall - those 4 seconds of freefall were amazing: PARAMOUNT.

I went from a grinding ROAR to near complete silence as I watched the sky all round me, watching it rush by. (there are just a few clouds to orientate you, but that weightlessness is AWESOME, and there really is no better emotion than serene / peaceful to describe it - surrounded by blue/white, near silence ). Everything slows down (I'd expected the canopy to open before it actually did - not out of fear, strangely I was hoping it would open as late as possible) - you hear wind whistling past your ears....and then that life-saving canopy opens - jerking and twisting you slightly, and literally brings you back into the world, giving you your breath back$.

And everything seems to move faster again.

$(there may have been a fleeting second of gratitude, but I wasn't washed down with relief or anything like that - again, unlike anything you'd expect)

With all the training you've been given, it's a reflex action to check the canopy, take the toggles, and flare. Then it struck me that I hadn't actually yelled throughout the whole experience, and an overwhelming "Woooohooooo!!" found it's way out of my throat. But almost immediately, a sense of the vastness of the sky gets you - your voice seems so feeble in that large space. (without the ground to reflect your sound) and you decide to keep quiet and take in the view.

Initial head turning to get a panorama, was followed by performing a quick check to see you were clear of other parachutists and obstacles. Returning to the panorama view, I caught my eyes flitting down to catch a moving car on a road every now and then - and I was unable to suppress another "Whooo!! This is amazing -DEFINITELY doing this again". This was followed by playing with the canopy. First, there were small trim turns to gauge the responsiveness of the canopy (which is really responsive for a piece of intricate nylon work acting as the only thing that's slowing you down), and then the inevitable experimentation - flaring to see the effect of slowing down (forward speed); hence sinking slightly faster, (relatively) large banks [I've promised myself that I will bank steeper next time, maybe even play with pulling the risers (the straps that attach the rig(what you wear) to the canopy, as opposed to the control toggles) for steeper descent, and high altitude swoops - I'm THAT comfortable with flying the canopy now).

This was followed by sudden self-chastisement for not checking the altimeter- so I didn't know where I was with respect to my landing procedure, with the simultaneous start of (confusing) radio chatter, by the talkers (Jo Burns - my groundschool training instructor and another skydiver) guiding down the jumpers. At 1000 feet I was meant to be heading downwind, 500 feet crosswind turn, and 300 feet final headwind approach, before flaring at about 15 feet - but there was a lot of time to go. BIGGEST LEARNING EXPERIENCE: HUMAN BEINGS ARE ABSOLUTELY WORTHLESS AT JUDGING ALTITUDE, AND ESPECIALLY DESPICABLE AT JUDGING SINK RATE* (more on this later, there's even a cheeky picture regarding this at the DZ- check it out ).






I continued playing with the canopy - flaring at one point caused me to literally stop moving forward in the air. The folds above the leading edge of the canopy, and the slider (the flat piece of cloth just above your head, which acted like a bag for the deflated canopy) which were fluttering in the wind until then went flat, and everything was stationary for one point- you REALLY felt like a bird, and until I looked down at the ground, slowly coming upwards, it felt regal - like a bird that's observing his subjects, taken a step back, and just sitting on air. A 360 degree left turn for some adventure, and before it turned into a 720, the radio crackled "Right toggle", and I started to head downwind- which was slower than expected (forward speed), without sinking by much.* We were originally told to fly past the landing point, and then turn and fly backwards into the wind while landing (the canopy always travels at 20mph with respect to the wind, so if the wind is doing less than 20 mph w.r.t the ground, (32 kmph) then you're still moving forward, and as a consequence of going against the wind, are moving slower than if there was no wind.

Now we were told to not go farther than 2/3rds of the field that the cross was on, but yours truly - deciding that he was high enough to have a GREAT glide slope, was emboldened by the radio silence he was getting at the point, and went about twice as far as they had suggested. (The radio talk really confused everyone as everyone was on the same channel, and you didn't always hear the first words due to the static/crackling on... so you didn't know whom they were talking to...when I was meant to turn into the wind and left (as we'd been briefed on the ground, I received a clear "Right Toggle" in my set...which later I gather was clearly not meant for me) . A combination of confusing and a weak signals contributed to my eventual position, where I had turned into wind, flared again at 300 feet thinking I was too high, and sinking too slow*. When the instructors who were talking us down finally came on the radio again, begging me to stay on the grass and not the hard road (a piece of cake to manage), I was, no prizes for guessing - too far behind the landing cross, and sinking a bit too fast to be able to cover that distance, but still on the grass. The instructor yelled "flare", and I held off for a millisecond, because I was definitely higher than 15 ft (ideal flare point) (this is without misjudgement - cause I was higher than the windsock which was 15 ft high) - but it turns out that you should JUST DO WHAT THEY TELL YOU - ATLEAST ON YOUR FIRST JUMP, ATLEAST CLOSE TO THE GROUND. She had told me to flare factoring that I'd be AT 15ft in the next millisecond - whereas I was too enamoured by being the champion of canopy control to think of the sink rate. What then, happened next? - the ground which up until then was coming to me like an unfamiliar friend, suddenly decided we were the best of buddies, and rushed. Already having tucked my arms in, and gotten my feet and knees together, (which was the landing posture) I thought I was going to have a good landing until my body decided to do things it's own way, and brought my legs higher up (as opposed to directly below me - so now they wouldn't be able to support my weight once I landed) and separated them - which in retrospect was lucky, because once they took the impact (about the same as jumping from a table onto the ground), my knees buckled unevenly, (helped by the canopy falling off to one side, and pulling me) and I landed on my sinistre gluteus maximus, rolling over to my left, and spread-eagling (a pun considering what the shirt I was wearing said) on the ground. It could have as well been an evasive maneuver to avoid small arms fire if I was landing behind enemy lines. I did yank one toggle through completely, but it was only then I realised how powerful the canopy was. Once I'd gotten up, it continued to pull me, enough to make me keep stumbling towards it in order not to fall again, even though it was partially inflated. Apparently, the canopy can take the weight of a small car, and bring it to the ground relatively safely. So obviously the safe limit for the weight of a jumper is 10% that - i.e. around 100kgs (!!) I meant for the irony to show, but I guess it's a measure of the margin of safety that they incorporate into the sport before letting anyone try it.

There was not a lot of constructive work to be done while the canopy deflated completely. So you just waited, and felt the shame of having landed about 100m away from the target (when the British National Accuracy champion touches a disk of 10 cms diameter 9/10 times). Once my lifesaver dropped to the ground, I separated myself from the mass of the cables, walked toward the canopy collecting the lines in my hand, dropped them into the nylon, gathered up everything into my arms and walked to the pick up point.^

First Sky -dive done!!!! (~1605 hrs. BST, 02/05/2009; 2035 hrs.IST)

^(I really do pity the people who pack canopies, well atleast if they're people like most I know...I mean it's relatively good pay 5pounds per rig - but It's like getting the air out of a 100 large, folded plastic bags, by squeezing them and waiting, folding about 10 interlinked sarees and then dis-entangling about 5 times as much wire as the average computer user has behind his PC - peripherals included)

~[On the first day of training, we were privileged enough to practice exits from the actual plane, while it was on the ground and the engines were running. We hadn't worn jumpsuits, and you were really able to judge how flimsy clothing is - trouser legs and shirt collars fluttering in your face, while you're trying to yell out the count over the plane. The memory stayed with us even after we got back to the classroom, not only because it was a great experience, but because we were soaked in the scintillating 'perfume of those petrol/diesel/kerosene fumes' - as a side note: it does help you to recall something if you associate an odour with it)]

Official Comment on my student training card: G.A.T.W (Great all the way) [referring to the technicality of the exit, etc.]

But that feeling covered more than just that, and wasn't only my instructors opinion - I don't care if it's cliched. My first jump was G.A.T.W.

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BACKGROUND INFORMATION, & LINKS

I skydived on Saturday, 2nd May 2009 as part of "The Great Warwick Jump 2009". This is a charity event held by the University of Warwick Skydiving Club, The University of Warwick. It works thus - each jumper has to raise a minimum amount of sponsorship for the charity of their choice. 150 pounds for the RAPS (Ram-Air Progression system) jump, 100 pounds for the Tandem jump, as well as his jump cost. (150pounds for the RAPS, and 200 for the tandem) through collections - and that's basically it. (you can also pay any part of the whole thing yourself). The drop zone- Target Skysports at Skydive Hibaldstow, Hibaldstow, near Brigg, Lincoln, UK was the venue for the event, and they had discounted their jump costs considering the number of students involved and the noble cause that was being undertaken. I chose to raise for Christel House. More details on who they are and why I chose them are available here.

GWJ Part 1: The jump

Originally we were meant to jump on the 8th of March 2009, after a day's groundschool on the previous day (7th of March, 2009). The groundschool was taught by my instructor Ms Jo Burns - a professional skydiver, and instructor with I-don't-know-how-many-but-rest-assured-more-than-200 jumps under her belt.In fact she was judged best instructor of the year by BPA (British Parachuting Association) for the year 2008. The groundschool included lessons on the equipment [the rig - colloquially known as the 'parachute' that one puts on one's back, the canopy (big thing that holds you up - which deploys from the rig), jump-suits, helmets etc.], proper exit procedures, emergency procedures (aircraft and canopy), proper canopy flight procedures, and landing procedures. It was a slightly tiring, and back stretching day of map-reading, baaaaaaaaaaaaaaasic aerodynamics, stretching, jumping, donning that funny reserve vest, yelling out the reserve drill and the canopy count, and being suspended from the ceiling in a harness as well as jumping out of a mock-up plane door in the classroom while doing all the above. At the end of the day, we were tested with a written paper in order to allow them to gauge whether we had taken everything on board. This was one test where one had NO room for error. You had to get a 100% to be certified as fit to jump RAPS. Everyone managed that at the end. I even checked out the Dornier at close quarters (with no pilot, and sat and studied the cockpit pretty well during one of the breaks) The day was wound up by watching a couple of movies on an OHP inside the lounge, playing some pool, and table football, and from what I gather, wild partying. Yours truly slept relatively early (between 12 and 1 am), but not before he'd been busy piling sugar-beets into a dustbin (along with the honourable chairmen of the society) and emptying it into some poor sky-diver's tent which were all put up just behind the lounge buildings. Apparently some slightly drunk sky-diver was instantly brought back to sobriety by the reeking smell inside his/her tent, and the task of getting a good 30-40 kilos of it out. :P We all were really eager to jump the following day, but as mentioned before, the weather did not permit us to do so safely, and 'H' - the chief instructor told us that we'd need to come back. Having broken for the easter vacation the very next weekend, we only got back on Saturday, and baptised our training.

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Oh, and this also happens to be my first 'true "BLOG" ' post (in what I consider the old, true sense of the word, i.e. it's an actual diary like account of some event from my life)