Free Falling in Pictures

As promised.



So that be me in the red and black flight suit. And the ridiculous looking helmet.

And that me by brave sister-in-law (the wife of my brother, the pilot, who absolutely refuses to even consider skydiving - make of that what you will) in the black and purple flight suit. And the ridiculous-looking helmet.

You might have noticed that the brave souls we jumped with had much less geeky-looking gear. Which, by the way, exactly why that was was never explained to us.

Update: I'm afraid you will have to head over to Flickr to see my brilliantly witty commentary attached to these photos. Which, for some reason, doesn't appear to show up in the slideshow.

Lost in Space

It's been a while, hasn't it?

Like over a week. Not good, I know.

Unfortunately, it don't be looking much better at the moment.

My brother is down for the week. That's right - him of the movies, Play Station games, eating out, Play Station games, board games, drinking, chatting fame. Meaning my amazingly-free schedule is taken up with other things. You know the drill.

Not that I'm complaining any. It's fun. It's just that it doesn't bode so well for the whole blogging thing, particularly when I have been so notably absent the past few months.

Oh well, I probably shouldn't worry my pretty little head about it. After all, chances are there likely ain't anyone coming around here anymore to check things out anyway.

Although.

On the off chance there is, I might just mention that earlier today my brother was showing me the pictures he took of my little free falling adventure last summer. The ones he had been promising to email me but never had. Because he still hasn't taken them off his camera, like.

Meaning that, at the moment, the plan is not to let him out the door of this place until I get those pictures off his camera. And on this here 'puter.

And although I can't promise to share many with you (trust me when I say that I really don't look so good in a flight suit and WWII-type helmet and goggles), you might just see one or two.

If y'all come back again, that is.

Crazy Skydive

Lex has taken his first hop (as the actual pilot, that is) in a Stearman (as far as I can figure, it's a biplane with an open cockpit). Which appears to be a big deal, given the smile on his face.

But then xformed linked to this video. Which I just had to share.


Crazy Skydive / Biplane Stunt - More free videos are here

If for no other reason than to say No, that particular stunt is most definitely NOT in my future plans.

And to confess that while it does look sort of nifty (if you are certifiably insane, that is), I was very relieved to find that there was somebody left behind in that cockpit. To actually, you know, fly the plane.

Reminiscing

Courtesy of the place where I jumped this past summer.



Brings back memories, it does.

Even a little bit of the nausea when they landed.

But the girl with the big smile. Nah, that wasn't me.

Which reminds me, how come we had the WWII looking helmets and goggles and the guys we jumped with wore what looked like motorcycle helmets and sunglasses?

In other words ... we played the part of the geeks. They looked cool.

Absolutely. Totally. Breathless.

August is just about over.

It's cold and wet outside. Last weekend it was Hurricane Bill. This weekend ... Tropical Storm Dan. I always knew men were nothing but trouble.

But at least we did have our vacation.

It was a good trip. Most definitely not a relaxing trip (we didn't stay in any one place for more than three days at a time), but still a good trip.

Two days in Steinbach, Manitoba. Then off to Oshkosh. Oh yeah, Oshkosh ... heavy sigh... Back to Steinbach. This time for one day. Off to Saskatchewan for two days. Back to Steinbach for a whole three days. Then home.

Did I miss anything?

Oh yeah, maybe one not so little thing.

The Jump. The Free Fall. The Terror.

Yup, that's right. Yours truly jumped out of a perfectly good airplane [that did, in fact, land shortly thereafter].

How was it, you ask?

Well ... to put the matter simply, I pretty much hated it. That's right. I. Hated. It. End of story.

Don't get me wrong. I am totally happy that I did it. It's something I've wanted to do for a very long time. It's just that (did I mention that I hated it?) I have no need nor desire to do it ever again.

I wasn't scared at all. At least not until after we fell out of the plane.

I jumped tandem @ 11,000 feet, meaning we had 6,000 feet of free fall. We were taught to keep our hands crossed on the chest (so we wouldn't grab the door of the aircraft and refuse t budge), bend our knees so our feet were behind us and arch our back.

Hands. Check.

Knees. Check.

Arch. Not so much.

I simply could not arch no matter how hard I tried. The wind was too strong. I suppose strong core muscles would help, eh?

Anyway, as I said I couldn't arch my back at all and we tumbled. And tumbled. Did I mention the repeated somersaults? Between that and simply not being able to breathe ... yeah, that was a treat.

Absolutely. Totally. Breathless.
Absolutely. Totally. Terrified.

That about sums up the free fall.

When Moo (yeah, I said Moo ... you had to love Moo, he was a great guy and absolutely hilarious) pulled the rip cord and my head was finally up, my feet were finally down and I could breathe again, he asked me how I had liked it.

How do you answer that question? The word "terrifying" did immediately come to mind.

The rest of the journey was okay but nothing too extraordinary. We weren't up very long after the free fall. I guess you stay up longer if you jump solo. The trade off is the free fall, of course.

But then my dear Moo made a couple of sharp turns left to right (to slow us down to land, I presume) and suddenly I was so nauseous. So totally nauseous. I didn't want to yell say anything right away and admit how sick I felt. After all, he was having a ball. Fortunately for me, just when I figured out that my only choices were to whine complain loudly or totally embarrass myself, we were ready to land.

The landing was okay. Although he kept yelling at me to put my legs out in front of me. And I kept yelling back that they were up, that was as far as they were going to go. When that concept finally got through to him, he grabbed the legs of my flight suit and pulled my legs up higher. We both basically landed on our butts. So gracious we were. A thing of beauty you might say.

It was a hot day and I couldn't wait to get the harness off and get out of that flight suit. When I did, I immediately became aware of the rest of the story. I was absolutely soaked with sweat. I guess between the adrenaline rush of the free fall and the later nausea ... yeah, that's enough about that.

Except that a whole crowd of my brother's friends had come to watch his wife and I jump and we were all suppose to be going out for supper afterwards. Right afterwards. As in we were already late for our reservations.

No way. No how. I made my sister-law take me back to their place where I changed my clothes and drained the contents of their water cooler. I still felt so sick and the car ride back to the house (followed by another long ride to the restaurant) definitely didn't help any.

Eventually it subsided. Although off and on all evening, even when I was feeling fine, out of nowhere I would get the sensation of butterflies (free falling butterflies, perhaps?) in my stomach.

And that night, about o'dark thirty I woke up so dry ... You might remember in your younger days, when you use to drink a fair bit too much (or you might remember that from last weekend, I suppose) when you had been out drinking and would then wake up so dry you thought you might die from lack of water. Again I drained the water cooler.

And so. The tale was done.

Epilogue:
My sis-in-law loved it BTW. Go figure...

The place where we jumped also offered hang gliding flights. This was the first time we had been out to my brother's place in the ten years they have lived there. So I asked her if, when I came back in another ten years, she would hang glide with me. Sure, she enthusiastically replied.

Head up. Feet down. That's the way I need to fly. It be next on my list.

And if you were hoping for a picture or a video, then I am sorry to disappoint. Although my brother and his friends promised to send me some of the pics they took so if I ever get them, I might ... just might (no guarantees) ... post one.

But if you want to see how it's really suppose to be done, just go here.

Now how come it always looks so cool when other people do it?

Still Dreamin' ... of Free Falling

Whatever you may think of his politics, the man does have style.

Former president George H.W. Bush marked his 85th birthday on Friday the same way he did his 75th and 80th birthdays: He leaped from a plane and zoomed downward at more than 100 mph (160 km/h) in freefall before parachuting safely to a spot near his oceanfront home.

Bush made the tandem jump from 10,500 feet (3,200 metres) with Sgt. 1st Class Mike Elliott of the Army’s Golden Knights, who guided them to a gentle landing on the lawn of St. Ann’s Church.

Good Lord, I hope I don't have to wait until I'm his age before I get my chance.

To Free Fall. For real.

Free Falling ... At Last

I am pleased to advise that I am [finally] in the money.

Let the adventure begin!

Update: Looks like Saturday might just be the big day!

Update II: Physio says no sky diving until I can jump off a chair and land on both feet comfortably. Unfortunately she does not seem the least bit impressed that I can jump off a chair and land on one foot comfortably.
!@%X!!#%@$!!

If He Can Do It ...

I vividly remember a dream I had as a child in which I was flying. Flying like a bird. No aircraft, nothing artificial. Just flying over my neighbourhood. Swooping and turning as the mood struck me.

It was the most amazing, overwhelming feeling and it stayed with me when I woke up. And although I can't recreate that feeling now, I can certainly remember how incredible it felt.

Ever since then, I've had this urge to fly like a bird. Hence, my interest in skydiving. Although I realize that won't give me the closest thing to the feeling of flying, it's something I really want to do. And then I plan to move on.

And I figure if a 71 year old can do it, so can I.



I must say, his words do resonate with me:

I started dreaming about flying when I was a kid," the 71-year-old resident of Peterborough, Ont., said Sunday as he prepared his hang-glider for flight. "My first flight was me running off my porch under an umbrella.

"I’ve been flying for more than 40 years. I joined air cadets, got my pilot’s licence as soon as I could afford it, but I didn’t find my true passion until I flew my first hang-glider. Flying one of these gives you a real, true sense of what flying is really all about."

And to think that it's all so close to home.

Yep, first skydiving. Then hang-gliding. I can't help it. I just have this urge to fly, fly, fly.