Skydiving Gone Wrong: What I Learned After Passing Out Mid-Air
I’ve told this story many times over the years, and had people listen intently with an open mouth and a stunned expression that revealed their thoughts of: “You did what?”
June 30, 1987 was a clear, sunny day. My friend Helen and I drove from Vancouver to Abbotsford, BC to partake in an outdoor adventure we knew very little about.
A few weeks prior, Helen had suggested we do something together for her birthday. We decided to spend $100 on whatever that something was. We first perused a couple of tattoo shops. Without really knowing what we wanted, after looking over a few template design options, we decided to go with our Plan B—to jump out of a plane.
I’ll admit that I’ve done more research for this article that you’re reading than we did for our first Sport Static Line Parachute Jump, where the parachute automatically deploys using a static line attached to the aircraft as the jumper exits.
We began our lessons on the grounds of Horizon Aerosports Ltd. Helen had made all the arrangements, likely based on location, time commitment and everything falling within our $100 budget. The required training for us was to jump off a two-metre-high deck into a pit of sand below, learning how to let your body relax and roll as you hit the ground. After a few other safety tips about how to exit the plane and instructions on how to navigate the directional steering of the canopy, our three-hour crash course was complete. We were set to hit the sky.
Making our way toward the aircraft in our jump suits and trusty parachutes on our backs, I got in the unassuming two-seat prop plane first, thinking that by Helen getting in after me, she would be the first to exit. Unbeknownst to me was that the plane had doors on both sides. So, when our instructor alerted us that we were at the required altitude, the door beside me was pushed open and I was told to step out and hold onto the small bar located just under the wing. Reluctantly, I did as I was told. I looked across at Helen in silence as if to state this might be the last time I see you. Positioned outside the plane with the wind now blistering into my face, I had no other choice but to let go and fly backwards into the unknown.
The parachute was automatically pulled out of its container as I descended on a roughly 1,000-metre free fall toward the ground, something that elicited a range of excitement, anxiety and nervousness in me. It should also be noted that I’m afraid of heights, but have little fear when it comes to trying almost anything new. I’ve also done paragliding, rock climbing, rappelling and the Edge Walk around the outside of the CN Tower in Toronto.
I promptly blacked out as I left the aircraft. Apparently, the free fall drop before parachute deployment is approximately 20 seconds. I couldn’t tell you as I was only awakened by the pull of the parachute as it released, allowing me to enjoy my journey back to land.
I somehow became fully relaxed and was enjoying the panoramic view of the land below me. I could see the divided farmlands and desolate secondary roads, and as I continued to descend, I started to see distant cows and that tiny backyard sandpit I was supposed to be aiming for upon landing.
The nearer I got to the ground, the quicker I seemed to be falling. I desperately tried to manoeuvre myself toward that dreaded sandpit during my roughly three-minute descent. But alas, I ended up landing in the ditch right beside the runway, which in hindsight was a good thing as it was grass instead of cement. Helen returned shortly after, landing much closer to the sandpit. We did it!
And just like that, it was over. I was elated that it was over, and relieved to be back on safe ground. Of course, like any 20-somethings celebrating a birthday, we brought a couple of celebratory drinks with us to enjoy after we completed our adventure.
However, it was a rough landing, and I had to see a chiropractor after to realign one of my back discs.
Still, it’s an adventure that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. A sort of bucket-list item for some, but just a Plan B for us.
Helen and I are still friends, and still do plenty of outdoor adventures, but this was one to be remembered. Helen now has tattoos, but I still don’t.
Today, I believe all beginner jumps have to be tandem with an instructor.
Canadian Sport Parachuting Association (CSPA) is the regulating certified body for all parachute training centres. Tandem jumps are most common for first-timers, and require less training as you’re relying on the instructor to do all the navigation. The static line is more commonly used for training and military applications, as the jumper needs to learn how to check the parachute and handle any potential issues. A valid point to be considered, that I don’t recall be fully made aware of in terms of a possible mishap or malfunction. Make sure to do your research ahead of time, ask questions and choose what meets your fear factor best.
Would I do it again? I’m not sure, but if I did, I’d likely do a tandem jump with a fully trained guide, and I’d let someone else take care of the steering for me.
