Coz I'm Free… Free Fallin'

Jumping from 12,000 feet might not be everybody's idea of fun but Sanjay Yalavatti has a thing for heights…

Get ready to jump", growled the burly man standing behind me. Just how did I find myself in this situation, I wondered, kneeling in the open doorway of a small airplane, 12000 feet high in the air.

It was during this dream 63-day vacation, travelling all over the US (and then onward to London and Amsterdam) that I was enjoying a lazy breakfast in my friend's apartment in Freemont, California, reliving the wonderful three-day camping trip to Yosemite Valley that we all had just returned from, when the bug bit again.

For years now I had this burning desire to experience the thrill of jumping off a plane and free-falling down to earth. No, I wasn't suicidal, just felt somewhat adventurous. So a quick check on the Net later, we downloaded driving directions to a skydiving school onto my friend's PDA, and we were off. The directions were precise, and a little over an hour later we spotted a few skydivers in the distance floating down in their parachutes. The sight sent a rush coursing through me.

I was brimming with nervous energy now that I actually had my dream within my sights.

Already running a little late, I ran towards the office not even waiting for my friend to park properly. The required forms were filled quickly, barely scanning through the legalese, and submitted along with the fee of US$ 160. After a brief wait they scheduled me for a jump and assigned a tandem jump instructor. While I was waiting I also signed up to have my moment(s) of glory filmed and photographed for posterity and even chose the soundtrack that would accompany the video. It cost an extra $100, but I figured that the occasion deserved it.

It was a long and eventually disappointing wait. Turned out that the winds had really picked up, rendering it potentially unsafe to jump, and after over two hours (where the seconds really dragged out in anticipation), the jump was cancelled.

While they did refund all the money, my spirits took a nosedive. That night as I wrote (emailed) back home, I could visualise the sigh of relief that my mother would let out on hearing of my aborted attempt. (She always thought I was temporarily afflicted by insanity whenever I had brought up the idea of skydiving someday.)

Moving On

A couple of days later, a last minute decision to juggle around with our travel schedule found us in Las Vegas. The amazing place that Vegas is, I quickly recovered from my earlier disappointment while experiencing the thrill of this larger-than-life, everything's-a-show city. I roamed the Strip, taking in all the sights and sounds, and though not much of a gambling person, I couldn't resist the lure of the slot machines to see if Lady Luck would smile on me.

Well she did. But not at the slot machines. As I was returning to my hotel room at three in the morning, I came across this flyer that advertised — of all things — skydives. Just about 30 miles away from Vegas. And they were willing to pick you up and drop you back to your hotel.

I didn't even think twice and called the 24-hour number right then, and made an appointment to be picked up at the hotel entrance at nine in the morning — for the earliest jump slot they had. After which I rushed up to the hotel room and broke the news to my friend, who was by now convinced I had had one too many tipples that evening, and told me he wanted no part of this craziness. But come morning, he too got up to accompany me, muttering that someone needed to inform my family and collect my belongings (and remains) after I splattered onto the desert sand.

A half-hour drive later we were at the tiny Jean airport — airstrip actually. Again went through the process of filling in the required forms. Only this time, I actually read through the five pages of legalese, that in effect conveyed that even though I was seemingly crazy enough to attempt this, I was actually of sound mind and understood all the risks involved, and that neither I (or anybody else) would hold them responsible if anything went wrong. I was even shown a video clip that quoted statistics of 'unsuccessful' jumps among other things. Mighty fine way to build confidence, I couldn't help saying to myself.

That done, divested of US$ 300 (US$ 200 for the jump and US$ 100 for the video), and now that I was this close again, the nervous energy began to build up along with the adrenaline.

Even in the midst of my excited state, as I emptied my pockets and handed over all the contents to my friend, it felt somewhat like I was handing over my earthly possessions since I couldn't take it to the world beyond. And as I donned the jumpsuit they had given me, I wondered if I was getting dressed for my own funeral. Funny, what all goes through your mind at times like this — and I'd not even boarded the plane.

As I walked out of the room towards the airstrip, all I saw was this small rickety-looking aircraft at one end of the airstrip. Surely this couldn't be it. The other place (in California) had this impressive looking plane, and here was this bucket of bolts that looked like it had seen better days as a crop-duster. And I'm not exaggerating when I say that I'd seen run-down cars that seemed to be in better shape.

Firstly, it seemed no bigger than a car (discounting the wings). The body of the plane looked rusty and covered in patchwork, and the sputtering engine didn't exactly make very reassuring noises. This heap will never get airborne, I thought, and there goes my skydiving attempt again.

As I crawled, (yes crawled, there was not enough clearance to stand up) on my knees into the tiny cabin I came face-to-face with a scraggly-bearded pilot who looked like he had last flown in World War II. Maybe that explained the plane too. With a broad grin he welcomed me on board, and asked me to get comfortable for the 15-minute flight up.

'Get comfortable' was the overstatement of the year. There were no seats on this flight, save one for the pilot. Some instructions later, I found myself kneeling on the floor of the cabin as 'it would be easier to crawl' towards the doorway when it was time to jump.

At this point a little anxiety was eating into my excitement. I was beginning to convince myself that jump I surely would have to, given that even if this plane somehow got airborne, it would never survive the landing bank to terra firma. But, bestowing my faith in the U.S. Government and the various governing regulatory bodies that surely would not have let them operate if it was indeed unsafe, I shook off the anxiety and prepared to enjoy the experience.

Up, Up,'N Away

My anxiety turned out to be unfounded. Some groaning noises (from the aircraft) apart the skilled pilot manoeuvred the plane off the short runway and we were airborne. On the way up, my jump instructor gave me further instructions on how we would move towards the exit of the plane, how we would position ourselves for the jump etc. He then strapped himself to the back of my jumpsuit and tested all the harnesses. By now I was reassured that they were professionals and knew what they were doing.

As we neared 12,000 feet (I kept checking the altimeter), the pilot opened the small door and my instructor gave me the signal. Together, with me in front, we shuffled towards the door. "Get ready to jump," he said. Since there was no place to stand, I had to lean out of the doorway and place my feet on the supports beneath the wing. My instructor did the same.

This was the moment of reckoning. It is at this moment that a thousand thoughts rush through your head, all mostly leading to asking yourself one question — "are you really, really, really sure you want to go through with this?"

The excitement of it all won over any nervousness. I leaned forward, let go of the wing supports, and let gravity take over.

It's A Bird, It's A Plane…

How does one really describe what follows? Specially since no words could adequately capture this incredibly heady feeling of the glorious disorientation immediately on tumbling out of the aircraft; the feeling of the wind rushing fiercely against you as if trying to seep into the pores of your skin (thank heavens for the protective face visors — wouldn't have been able to see a thing otherwise); the feeling of crashing towards the earth (where everything's but a tiny speck) at a speed of 120 miles per hour; the feeling of soaring through the heavens unfettered (almost).

Free-fall is a feeling that you have to actually experience to believe. Adrenaline courses through your veins mirroring the speed of your descent, and at that moment you truly believe that there's no intoxicant on earth that could give you a rush like the one you're experiencing then. An incredible array of emotions are packed into those initial moments.

My instructor's tap on my shoulder brought me back to reality. In front, a few feet away, I saw the videographer who had also jumped along with us to capture this incredible experience on film wearing a helmet-camcorder. I started waving out like crazy, mimicking the flapping of wings, swimming thru the air, and making all sorts of goofball actions and expressions.

The free-fall part of the jump lasts but 35-40 seconds, but it's difficult to describe how much you live in each exhilaration-packed second. The instructor tapped me on the shoulder again to signal that he's going to deploy the parachute now and to brace myself accordingly.

As soon as the parachute is deployed to arrest your fall, there's no uncomfortable jolt but you feel like the brakes have been slammed on mid-air and that you're being tugged back up. A few moments later, after the speed of free-fall, you actually feel like you're just suspended in one place mid-air, moving neither up nor down.

It's when you notice that the videographer has not yet deployed his parachute, and within seconds he is just a small speck. That's when you really get a real idea of the speed at which you were actually falling. Then his parachute deploys and you feel a little relieved.

It's also now that you start looking around, taking in the incredible view beneath you — miles and miles of brown desert expanse, with long thin black lines (highways) drawn through it. You can barely make out the cars plying on them though — they are like tiny ants crawling around. You can see Las Vegas in the distance, like a phoenix rising up from the sands and marvel at the incredible city they have built in the middle of the desert.

The instructor then handed me the controls of the parachute, showing me how to steady it, and then made me pull slowly on the left control, making the parachute bank towards the left and then similarly to the right. We performed a series of manoeuvres like this. (I was told later by my friend, waiting at the drop zone, that it looked like we were attempting some acrobatics in the sky.)

Slowly as we descended towards the earth, I started realising that my incredible experience would soon be over, but I sure didn't want it to end. However, I did experience some nervous thrills as we descended further. The winds suddenly picked up, making the smooth descent a little wobbly. The instructor manipulated the parachute controls to steady the parachute, and barked out instructions for me to lift up my legs and prepare to slide in for a landing, instead of running in as previously instructed. About twenty feet off the ground I lifted my legs and braced myself as the instructor skilfully guided the parachute in for a perfect landing.

Touchdown

Terra-firma! Back safe and sound, I got up on my feet, brushed myself off, and started performing a victory war-dance, thrilled to bits with myself for having fulfilled my dream. I was beaming ear-to ear all the way back to Vegas.

A minor disappointment was the fact that I didn't get any photographs of the descent as the videographer's still camera had unfortunately jammed, but I have digitised the video recording since, and whenever I feel life get a little dull or monotonous, I replay the video on my computer and relive those moments of pure, unadulterated exhilaration.

I am now looking forward to someday making it to New Zealand to experience the world's highest bungee-jump. And my mom's still shaking her head…