The Dream Takes Life

Emerson purchased his first skydiving rig on Friday February 8^th 2013, and now it is really sinking in that his dreams of flying a wingsuit are becoming a reality.  I am writing this as a biography for him, starting at the pivotal point where all the years of planning and hard work come into fruition.  His first real 5 year plan is at its end and the next 5 year plan is being created and amended in his head to make room for his career and his passion, specifically to pay for his lifestyle and to fund his dream of flight.  In the 2 plus years that I have dated him, I have watched him immerse himself in every possible aspect of flying.  For his 30^th birthday, he flew himself to Perris Valley and in two weeks achieved his A license in skydiving.  The goal has never been to become a professional skydiver, rather to feel that rush of adrenaline while flying a wingsuit, becoming that flying squirrel that encompasses much of his imagination. But as with all things Emerson, the end goal will grow and change with each new adventure he experiences.

I want to tell his story, but I am sharing the experience through my eyes so I will begin where I entered the picture to ensure that the resulting blog is as factual and accurate as I can possibly make it, so that he has the best record of the events that will lead to him taking his first proximity flight and possibly beyond.  From the first day that I met him we were talking about airplanes and flying.  I even off handed mentioned that I would try skydiving if the opportunity presented itself.  I had no idea how much impact that little remark would have on my life from that moment on and more importantly how huge a role flight was in his life.

In the first two weeks getting to know Emerson we had very typical conversations that one would expect while dating.  Laughing, hanging out, going bowling and visiting plant stores, but as I soon found out his aspirations were anything but normal.  Three weeks after meeting Emerson, my phone rang, and the conversation went something like this.  “Hey Krystal, do you remember how when we met you said that you would try skydiving? Well I just found a great drop zone in Edmonton called Eden North and the weather next weekend looks pretty good.  How would you feel about driving up to Edmonton and jumping out of a plane with me?”  To my surprise I answered with an only slightly hesitant OK, and my small part in this journey began.  

Visualize

It’s scorching hot as I cross the tarmac.  I reluctantly slide my helmet over my face in a futile attempt to shield the hot exhaust of the turboprop.  Loading onto the twin otter, 23 people cram side by side into the tiny fuselage for a one way trip to 12,500ft.  I pull my helmet off to stay as cool as I can before we taxi.  The door closes and I slide my helmet back on for take off.  Its a sweatbox in here.  After far too long my Pro Dytter beeps in my ear letting me know it’s active and we are finally at 1000ft.  In unison everyone pulls off their full face helmets before releasing their seatbelts.  500 more feet and I slide the four foot jump door open, cool air rushes in and we all breath a sigh of relief.  It’s the only escape from the heat. That and freefall.

This is my meditation.  I’m blank, just staring out of the open door as we steadily climb.  California is beautiful.  I close my eyes and try to get some rest.  I’m exhausted.  Six jumps yesterday, five today.  The adrenalin shocks, the short bursts of intense concentration, the constant adjustment of every muscle to fly in formation with other humans... The packing. This is a bizarre sport.  One jump, one thousand.  It doesn't matter.  The best skydivers in the world are on the plane with me and once we exit we are all in the same boat.  There is no easing into this sport.  Once you let go of that plane, everyone, professional or student, will impact in 70 seconds, save for the rig strapped to your back.  I reach down and touch my deployment handle.   It’s the skydivers safety blanket.  You need to touch it.  You need to know it’s still there.  8000 ft, time to close the door.  It can get chilly this high up.

I realise I’m about to jump with seven other people and for a moment, I can't remember the plan.  I close my eyes and picture what we practiced minutes ago in the mock up.  I visualize the exit order and start to get nervous.  Leaving the plane doesn't bother me, but THINKING about exiting gets my heart rate up.  I’m worried about falling out of the airplane.  A completely legitimate fear, except I’m planning on jumping out.  I visualize our group lining up at the door, two people will climb out, one hand holding onto the bar, the other holding a friend.  Christian and I almost push our friends off their perch as we crowd the small four foot door and grab their harness.  Three more friends crouch behind us poised, muscles ready to sprint.  They will dive out of the aircraft and chase us through the sky.  We are half hanging out in an awkward crammed mess, but there is order.

Ready, a leg swings out of the door, Set, it swings back in and my leg muscles fire, Go!  The leg swings out and seven people explode out of the door.  That mess makes sense now. Four of us form the base.  We arch and hold wrists in a circle, matching each others fall rate with minute adjustments of hip, shoulder, leg... every muscle is needed to fly together.  I can see three friends diving like bullets.  500 pounds hurtling towards us, they open their body decelerating, and gracefully slide into position.

We stabilize and the skydive can now begin.  The coach is our conductor, head nods are all we need, we break, fly to our new position and dock, break, new position and dock. We have three points to make, then repeat until 4500 ft when my dytter beeps.  Everyone immediately drops all grips.  I spin 180 from the center, extend my legs and pull my arms back.  I can feel the acceleration as I rocket across the sky tracking away from the group, trying to get as far away from them as I can before the next BEEP, 3500 ft 19 seconds till impact.  Wave, look left, wave, look right, all clear.  I reach back find my safety blanket and throw it out into the wind.  One one thousand, two one thousand...  I am pulled upright, like being pulled from a dream.  I look up and watch my canopy slowly inflate as my dytter starts screaming in my ear.  That’s my WTF alarm.  It's set to 2500 ft.  That gives me 8 seconds to cut the shit away and pull my reserve if something goes wrong, but I have a big beautiful canopy over my head.  I look everywhere, spotting all the canopies as I release my steering toggles, flair, turn left, turn right, all is good.  I spot the wind socks, set up for my landing pattern, and flair to a soft landing.  Someone taps me on the shoulder.  I open my eyes, watch two of my friends climb outside the Otter, and I huddle into the door.  Lets hope it all goes as planned.  - Emerson