Skydiving, our new hobby

After our first tandem skydives that, as described in a previous post, should have been a one time experience, we had to go back and do it again.  We soon found ourselves hooked on this amazingly, bizarre sport of falling downward at a speed of 110 to 120 miles per hour.
 The first time I jumped on my own, I noticed that the door was closed on the airplane.  That’s a very lonesome feeling!  It’s was now too late to change my mind…and time to do what I was taught…. to open and fly this big handkerchief.

There’s a training statement that sounds funny, but is seriously true: “When the people look like ants, it’s time to play.  When the ants look like people, it’s time to pray.”

I can’t begin to describe the adrenalin rush of floating and playing above the clouds.

 We were soon asked to join the club’s staff, which paid our way by manifesting the jump loads, packing chutes, and talking down students.

Wearing a ripcord “necklace” after the first freefall, is a ritual deemed to bring good luck to their students.  Since it would have been bad luck to remove it before our next jump, we were expected to wear it until then.

Our goal was to earn our Class A license.  Passing a written test and completing a skydive that showed we weren’t a danger to other skydivers, gave us the privilege to join this elite group of adrenalin junkies.

Lee and I were well trained to be prepared in case of a parachute malfunction.  After many jumps, we eventually found ourselves under parachutes that weren’t going to land us safely.  We each had to cut away our mains and land under our reserve parachutes, much to the worried concern of our friends on the ground.

When we weren’t jumping ourselves, we loved watching world record attempts.

At Skydive Chicago, we watched the completion of the first 300 way world record.

Ten of the eleven jump planes did a celebratory fly-by, to the delight of everyone on the ground.

Since we accomplished our skydiving goals, it was time to be kind to our bones and retire our parachutes.  Our log books show that I finished one more jump than my husband.  He knows that I try to always be a “jump ahead of him” and if he forgets, it’s written in my log book.