BEFORE SA Skydiving came to the region, I was not someone who waited years to tick parachuting off a “bucket list”.
But as a 40-year-old father, I realise life is fleeting and new adventures and experiences should be welcomed to live life to the full. So when the opportunity arose to be strapped to an expert instructor and drop from a plane thousands of feet above the South East, fall through the clouds and soar down on a parachute to land, I could not resist.
I can well understand why many people may feel unnecessarily exiting an aircraft mid-air is a crazy concept, but despite being an “extreme” pursuit, it is relatively safe.
Accidents are rare.
For such a momentous occasion for first-time skydivers, arriving at the Mil Lel Hall on Saturday appeared rather mundane.
The Scouts were there cooking a barbecue to feed the “jumpers” and a few cars were scattered around.
But then a parachuting duo skimmed across the ground to a safe stop in an adjoining ordinary South East paddock and it was easy to tell by the grin on one man’s face he had just experienced the joy of skydiving for the first time.
Here was my chance to find out whether I should be more worried about what many consider a crazy idea. But the reassurance was plentiful.
Soon joined by his buddy who had also made his skydiving debut, the two were soon raving with delight about the joy they had felt falling and “flying” down to earth and lack of genuine fear when it mattered.
Fear seemed to be out of their minds, replaced by adrenaline-fuelled exhilaration.
I was ready for a piece of what they were having.
As I met with the land crew, I was handed a pair of flying pants to pull on and met Mount Gambier man Matt Rowley, who would be joining me for his first skydive.
The ground crew guided us into harnesses, which were then attached and it became clear these were our lifelines – the webbing which would keep us connected to our diving instructors and in turn their parachutes.
Instructors Jed Smith and Bryce Sellick, who had just landed in the paddock with the two previous first-timers, soon met with Matt and I, asked how we were feeling, light-heartedly set us at ease and before long we were in a minibus, bound for the airport.
Along the way we were handed a tablet device to watch a safety video explaining what was ahead.
Reality started to set in as we watched images of people in a small aircraft with what appeared to be a rather flimsy plastic door sliding open to make way for them to tumble out into a 220-240kph freefall – yes, that is how fast the human body plummets to the ground unassisted when gravity takes control.
But other than that small fact, the video, albeit short, made it look like it was all pretty simple really – get strapped onto your instructor, sit on the edge of a plane high above the clouds, hold back your head and bend your legs under you, lean forward and awaaaaaaaaaay you go!
Matt and I gave each other an uncertain look, but we had come this far, neither of us were brave enough to suggest the bus should be turned around – instead, we were going up.
Before we could give the situation more thought, we were walking along the tarmac to a tiny plane where that ominous plastic door was opened and in we climbed together with our two instructors and a cameraman.
If you are thinking about skydiving – and by the time you get to the end of this story you will understand I thoroughly recommend it – be prepared to cram into a small fuselage space with other people.
If you think the indignity of swearing, screaming or blubbering uncontrollably as you hurtle towards the ground is enough, you will also end up packed in practically on top of the other people you will share the sky with as you start to come to terms with what is ahead amid the rumble of a plane.
That is all part of the fun and camaraderie. In no time, the airplane was roaring along the tarmac, in the air and rapidly climbing.
Earlier in the day, conditions had been dreary with light rain and heavy cloud cover, but thankfully by mid-afternoon as we rose it cleared to lovely South East autumn conditions.
I was not going to get out of this one due to wet weather.
At a couple of thousand feet was probably when I worried most, still clearly able to see farm buildings and other features of the landscape below and thinking “heck, that is a long way to fall”.
Those thoughts did not linger all that long for as we continued to climb I felt at this stage fear is not going to help the situation and instead to look forward to the thrill ahead – or at least do my best to convince myself this was still a good idea.
As we climbed higher, I felt more comfortable – “with so far to fall, there would be more than enough time for the instructor to do everything necessary to ensure a safe landing,” I told myself.
As any pilot will tell you, the awe-inspiring view of the rolling clouds and blue sky is captivating and soothing.
But there was really not a lot of time to think about the whole scenario as I was asked to climb into my instructor’s lap and he attached his harness to my own at four points, pulling at them firmly to reassure me there was no way we could separate mid-aid.
Then the door was slid open at 8000 feet and we were met with an almighty rush of cold air, atmospheric pressure and wind.
It was time to step into the void with no turning back – or rather shuffle on our knees in the small fuselage to take up our position, right on the edge of the doorway, legs outside the plane, gently leaning forward to peer down.
Thank goodness for the clouds – all I could see was a white, endless mattress of cotton wool. But as quick as I could convince myself of that thought, it was back to reality with a tap on the shoulder, a smile at the camera, a lean further forward and gravity took over.
The freefall is one of the key attractions of skydiving and despite seeing the likes of James Bond gracefully drop through the air and appear in complete control, as if a gentle opening of the hand here and point of the arm there will guide you like Peter Pan to Neverland, no, it is straight down, feeling completely out of control and in the unforgiving grasp of gravity, plummeting to the earth.
No matter how fast you have been on a motorbike, rollercoaster or other thrill ride, nothing compares to the sensation of falling through the sky.
After enjoying the greatest thrill ride of my life, we suddenly slowed down – but not with a violent jolt as I expected – and glided through the air, parachute open and making a controlled descent to land.
This is the time to enjoy the view, the sensation of flying – even being handed the guide ropes to steer the parachute for a time.
After taking time to enjoy the view, feel the sensation of flight and tranquillity inspired by being far above the world, it seemed to not be long and the instructor asked me to lift my legs straight out in front of me – at 90 degrees to my torso, as shown in the video – and we slid into a speedy but relatively smooth landing, straight into a cow pat – welcome back to Mil Lel.
With a high five, handshake and congratulations for joining the community of people who know how it feels to drop out of a plane and experience skydiving, he was off to prepare for the next jumper.
I was greeted by excited family and nothing could wipe the grin off my face – not at having survived, that was never a worry and the instructors were reassuring at every step – but at having experienced something truly wonderful.
There were elements of fear at times, but for me, not at any level I expected and certainly not enough to drive me to consider abandoning the jump, but greatly outweighed by a sense of wonder, unforgettable excitement and fulfilment.
The instructors dedicate years to the pursuit, participating in flight after flight, including 23 tandem jumps in the two days at Mil Lel with plans to return annually.
It is easy to see how someone of the right temperament would become hooked on the experience and why so many people who make the jump want to get straight back on the plane and do it again … and again.
