Holy crap. Crazy. Awesome.
For a second there I thought he was going to try landing it without a parachute. Aside from the huge metal wings and the jet packs, it really looks like he's wearing just a regular parachute. Except I wonder how he deployed it? Since I don't think he can reach around and pull the pilot chute from the bottom of the rig... The reserve (parachute) handles seemed intact on landing, so he didn't use those...
And this. Amazing. Beautiful.
Both videos found here: http://thekidshouldseethis.com/
via one of my favourite blogs: http://parentingbeyondbelief.com/blog/
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jeudi 15 septembre 2011
mardi 29 mars 2011
Adventures in California: Part One
MB and I just returned from two weeks spent in Perris, California. When I left, I had a total of 171 jumps. We were scheduled to make 44 coached jumps over the course of the two weeks – and so I was excited that my 200th jump would be a big-way skydive! But I’m back with a total of only 196 jumps. Skydiving is unfortunately weather-dependent and, well, the weather just wasn’t on our side this time. Who said it’s always sunny in Southern California? We all got refunds for the jumps we didn't make, but would have much rather been going home poorer, with more entries in our logbooks.
We spent most of the two weeks at Perris Valley Skydiving, which is located about halfway between Los Angeles and San Diego, in California. It’s a gorgeous spot surrounded by snow-capped mountains and rolling hills. Apparently it’s usually brown and dusty, as it is considered in the desert, but when we were there everything was green (and got even greener as days went by, from all the rain... I’ll get to that).
The Perris Performance Plus Big-Way Training Camp (and Canadian Record Attempt...that didn’t happen)
MB and I decided to go to the Perris Performance Plus (also known as P3) Big-Way Training Camp only three weeks before the event. The P3 camps are reputed as being a great training experience for those wanting to learn to jump in large groups. The organizers of the camp are all really well-known skydivers who have helped organize huge events such as the 200-way women’s record in 2009 and the 400-way world record in 2006. (They are planning a 500-way record in Dubai in 2013.)
The camps are held several times a year, but this one was special: the goal of this camp was to train enough Canadian skydivers to beat the current Canadian big-way record of 59 people jumping together. When I heard about the record attempt last year, I thought I didn’t have enough experience to be on it. But when one of our skydiving mentors, LM, sent MB and I an email trying to convince us to go, we decided to apply. And we were accepted!
A bit of background
For those of you wondering, a “big-way” is a skydiving discipline that involves a large number of skydivers jumping together and building a formation during freefall. We wear special jumpsuits that have arm and leg grips, making it easier for us to hold onto each other. In formation skydiving, you can have “4-ways”, “8-ways”, 20-ways”, etc., depending on the number of people jumping together. A “big-way” is actually a vague term, as someone coming from a small dropzone (a skydiving center) might consider an 8-person formation “big”, whereas some people only consider 40+-ways as “big-ways”.
My experience in big-way skydiving was pretty limited. The biggest formation I had done so far was with 24 people. But the basic principles of big-way skydiving are pretty much the same no matter how many people are there: the “base”, made up of two to six, eight, or even ten people, gives everyone a target to aim towards. They form the center of the formation. Every skydiver approaches the base on their own “radial”, a straight line going from the center of the base outwards, ensuring that there are no collisions between skydivers. (That doesn’t mean they don’t happen, of course.) As in any skydive, everyone separates before opening their parachutes, leaving as much space between each other as possible. In big-way skydiving, jumpers usually track away from the formation in “waves”, with the outside leaving first, then the next group, and finally the base separating from each other last.
I first learned about “radials”, “approach angles/stadiums” and “tracking groups” in 2009, at the Canadian National Championships at Burnaby Skydiving in Ontario. With only 70 jumps, I participated in 20-way formations organized by Carey Peck and Ginger Kuhlmann, who were on the World Record 400-way in 2006. That same week, Doug Forth, one of the P3 coaches from Perris Valley, was on site to give a 40-way camp. He wouldn’t let me jump with the group because of my limited experience, but I did attend all of the “ground training” he gave; all the jump briefings and debriefings. He told me that I should wait until I had at least 150 jumps, then attend one of his camps. When I wrote to Doug explaining that I wanted to attend the P3 camp this March, I wasn’t sure if he would remember me from then... he said he did.
Canadians from all over the country were there, representing almost all of the provinces – and even one territory! Most people there had several hundreds, if not thousands, of jumps. Matt and I, along with our friend Céline from Montreal, had the lowest number of jumps. But we did pretty well, considering that! If it wasn’t for the fact that I made a fool of myself on the first few landings (more on that later), I don’t think I looked like too much of a “junior jumper”.
We arrived in Perris a day before the training camp started so we could familiarize ourselves with the dropzone and do a few jumps “to get the rust off”. (Most of us Canadians hadn’t jumped since last summer.) Getting there earlier also meant we had time to settle into the motel room we were sharing with LM. We thought about camping on the dropzone itself, which would have been free, but then decided to take LM up on his offer to share, thinking that a warm bed and lots of uninterrupted sleep would be important during an intensive training camp. LM, MB and I got along really well for people living in such close quarters – and Larry got a kick out of telling everyone I was his daughter!
Getting our money’s worth
Training started at 8 a.m. on Wednesday morning. Our four coaches introduced themselves (these guys are superstars in the skydiving world!) and gave us an overview of how the camp would work. Unfortunately, they had to break the news to us that very first morning that we might not have enough people there to break the existing Canadian record. A few weeks before the camp, a dropzone in Montreal announced that they, too, were organizing a Canadian record attempt that summer. I guess many people decided to drop out of the P3 camp and just participate in a record closer to home instead. Yes, they saved a lot of money (no flight, hotel, world-class trainers to pay), but they missed out on an amazing learning opportunity.
I had already told myself that I was going to this event mainly for the training camp – and if I managed to help break a record, all the better. I suppose it was because of that mindset that I wasn’t too crushed by the news that all these people had dropped out of the event.
After giving us some theoretical classroom training, our coaches split us up into groups of twenty skydivers and we went to work applying the principles they had just taught us. The P3 camp organizers are all highly experienced skydivers and coaches – and it showed. Our jumps went really well, even if we didn’t always manage to build the formations fully on those first few jumps. During the video debriefs, after each jump, they pointed out what was done well, and (gently) what wasn’t done so well. Everyone seemed to be getting better and better each time. I worked hard at just “doing my job”: trying to be exactly where I was supposed to be on all our skydives so I wouldn’t stick out on the video! It worked well, because they made me the last one out of the plane – a slot usually reserved for the most experienced jumpers! I had a blast on all of those jumps, feeling like every one was better than the last.
Canopy Crash Course
I wrote periodic updates on how our training was going on Facebook, but I didn’t write anything about my botched landings because I didn’t want any of my “Moms” to worry about me. I have never had any problems with controlling my canopy – from the very start of my skydiving “career”, I’ve been able to land the canopy on my feet, almost exactly where I want, all the time. Which is why I was so frustrated that I kept sliding in, covering my jumpsuit and rig with grass or mud... After my fifth such inelegant landing, a few people came to see me to ask if I was ok. I was a bit bruised up, but mostly embarassed at my inability to land on my feet. This had never happened before! Had I forgotten how to land in six months? What was going on?
Finally, LM pulled me aside and explained that because the site we were on was about 1,200 feet above sea level, it was normal for my canopy to fly a lot faster. He also pointed out that I was wearing a ton of lead to be able to fall faster – which also made me come in for landing faster. I felt a bit better, but still embarassed – especially when the organizers came to see me to offer to lend me a bigger, slower canopy to jump with. They thought I had a tiny, high-performance canopy... when I really already have a big (for my size), slow canopy! Someone then suggested I talk to Les, the resident canopy piloting expert. Les told me he’d film my next landing and then go over my technique with me. (Of course, I landed hard – again. Even more embarassing since I knew he was filming.) He pulled me into a training room and started drawing on the board, giving me a crash course in canopy landing. Turns out I was still flying my parachute like a “student” canopy – and once I had learned the principles of flying a faster canopy, I had no more problems landing. I landed on my feet every single time after that. Phew!
Side trips to San Diego and Temecula Valley Wine Country
After 18 jumps and three days of training, we were given a day off, so we decided to drive down the Pacific coast to San Diego. We saw a lot of surfers and gorgeous places with names like Oceanside, Torrey Pines and La Jolla. Once we were in downtown San Diego, we picked up a few pamphlets from the tourist office and decided to go visit an aviation museum that was on an air force base just outside the city. MB was like a kid in a candy store there, of course! Then we drove back into town and walked around the shops, visited an outdoor shopping centre (first time for MB), and had some gelato on a patio (even if it wasn’t that warm). Happy day.
The next day became another day off because of the torrential rain. And then the next day was off too, so we decided to visit a nearby winery – my first time. In fact, there were a lot of “firsts” on this trip for both of us: first three-plane formation, first four-plane formation, first time jumping out of a plane with a tailgate instead of a side door (Skyvan), first-time jumping from 16,000 feet (with oxygen!), first time having to climb back into the plane after hanging on to the side of it (eeeeeep!)...
In the skydiving community, the tradition is that when anyone has a “first” something, they have to buy beer for everyone else. So, yeah, we bought a lot of beer on this trip! We didn’t drink that much of it, though, because we wanted to be in good shape for the 8 a.m. starts to training.
A 20-way that became a 10-way
During the camp, we were given the chance to try out several different slots (in the very centre, middle area, or outside of the formation) and several different exit positions. Someone my size is typically one of the last ones diving out of the plane and docking onto the outside of the formation. The reason for this is that as more and more people hold hands, they start flying slower as a group. So the last person to dock onto the formation has to slow down their fall rate to keep up – which is usually harder to do for a bigger, heavier person.
On this dive, I was given a “floater” exit position. The floaters are the ones that hang onto the outside of the plane, then just launch themselves off and “float” up to their position in the formation. (No one actually “floats” or goes “up”; it has to do with the position of the relative wind as you exit the aircraft. Everyone falls at around the same speed of 200 km/h.) I don’t like floating as much as diving because... well... it’s COLD on the outside of the plane, 13,000 feet in the air! I also find it hard to fight against the wind to hold on. But then again, floaters get a pretty cool view: they look up and watch everyone exit the plane after them.
When the green light comes on, I climb out of the plane, looking over at the other plane and watching for the other half of our group to go (which is our cue to follow!). I see the plane for half a second, and then... it dives down! I look back at the people behind me, who are still getting into position along the side of the aircraft. We are all looking at each other, looking around the sky, then back at each other. I’m starting to wonder how much longer I can hold on before just dropping off. I mean, I have a parachute, I would be ok if I fell off, but the idea is to jump as a group!
Then, all of a sudden, I feel myself being pulled back into the plane. I’m out of breath and my heart is racing, so I move to sit down. Everyone on the outside is pulled back into the plane, looking a bit dazed. As LM wrote in his version of the events, “Brett [a fellow skydiver and friend] decided it was time for somebody to take charge and suddenly put himself nose to nose with Kim and shouted "Sit down and relax!" Kim was already sitting down, and seemed pretty relaxed to me. At least, she was until Brett started shouting at her. Somebody needed to relax, but I don't think it was her.”
That’s when our pilot shouted back “why didn’t you guys go?”. We still didn’t know what had happened to the other plane, but our plane captain (the one in charge; not Brett) smiled to all of us and said (well, yelled, over the plane’s engine), “we’re just all going to jump together and make a big circle, ok?” So we did. It was fun.
Turns out there was a slight communication problem between the two pilots, and the other plane got the “green light” to go way before we did. They had already jumped when we started climbing out and getting into position (which is why I saw the plane dive away). They were pretty confused too when they built their part of the formation, looked around, and realized half of the people were missing!
To be continued in Part Two...
We spent most of the two weeks at Perris Valley Skydiving, which is located about halfway between Los Angeles and San Diego, in California. It’s a gorgeous spot surrounded by snow-capped mountains and rolling hills. Apparently it’s usually brown and dusty, as it is considered in the desert, but when we were there everything was green (and got even greener as days went by, from all the rain... I’ll get to that).
The Perris Performance Plus Big-Way Training Camp (and Canadian Record Attempt...that didn’t happen)
MB and I decided to go to the Perris Performance Plus (also known as P3) Big-Way Training Camp only three weeks before the event. The P3 camps are reputed as being a great training experience for those wanting to learn to jump in large groups. The organizers of the camp are all really well-known skydivers who have helped organize huge events such as the 200-way women’s record in 2009 and the 400-way world record in 2006. (They are planning a 500-way record in Dubai in 2013.)
The camps are held several times a year, but this one was special: the goal of this camp was to train enough Canadian skydivers to beat the current Canadian big-way record of 59 people jumping together. When I heard about the record attempt last year, I thought I didn’t have enough experience to be on it. But when one of our skydiving mentors, LM, sent MB and I an email trying to convince us to go, we decided to apply. And we were accepted!
A bit of background
For those of you wondering, a “big-way” is a skydiving discipline that involves a large number of skydivers jumping together and building a formation during freefall. We wear special jumpsuits that have arm and leg grips, making it easier for us to hold onto each other. In formation skydiving, you can have “4-ways”, “8-ways”, 20-ways”, etc., depending on the number of people jumping together. A “big-way” is actually a vague term, as someone coming from a small dropzone (a skydiving center) might consider an 8-person formation “big”, whereas some people only consider 40+-ways as “big-ways”.
 |
| A "20-way" skydive. I'm in the top right corner of the photo (with the red helmet). |
My experience in big-way skydiving was pretty limited. The biggest formation I had done so far was with 24 people. But the basic principles of big-way skydiving are pretty much the same no matter how many people are there: the “base”, made up of two to six, eight, or even ten people, gives everyone a target to aim towards. They form the center of the formation. Every skydiver approaches the base on their own “radial”, a straight line going from the center of the base outwards, ensuring that there are no collisions between skydivers. (That doesn’t mean they don’t happen, of course.) As in any skydive, everyone separates before opening their parachutes, leaving as much space between each other as possible. In big-way skydiving, jumpers usually track away from the formation in “waves”, with the outside leaving first, then the next group, and finally the base separating from each other last.
I first learned about “radials”, “approach angles/stadiums” and “tracking groups” in 2009, at the Canadian National Championships at Burnaby Skydiving in Ontario. With only 70 jumps, I participated in 20-way formations organized by Carey Peck and Ginger Kuhlmann, who were on the World Record 400-way in 2006. That same week, Doug Forth, one of the P3 coaches from Perris Valley, was on site to give a 40-way camp. He wouldn’t let me jump with the group because of my limited experience, but I did attend all of the “ground training” he gave; all the jump briefings and debriefings. He told me that I should wait until I had at least 150 jumps, then attend one of his camps. When I wrote to Doug explaining that I wanted to attend the P3 camp this March, I wasn’t sure if he would remember me from then... he said he did.
Canadians from all over the country were there, representing almost all of the provinces – and even one territory! Most people there had several hundreds, if not thousands, of jumps. Matt and I, along with our friend Céline from Montreal, had the lowest number of jumps. But we did pretty well, considering that! If it wasn’t for the fact that I made a fool of myself on the first few landings (more on that later), I don’t think I looked like too much of a “junior jumper”.
We arrived in Perris a day before the training camp started so we could familiarize ourselves with the dropzone and do a few jumps “to get the rust off”. (Most of us Canadians hadn’t jumped since last summer.) Getting there earlier also meant we had time to settle into the motel room we were sharing with LM. We thought about camping on the dropzone itself, which would have been free, but then decided to take LM up on his offer to share, thinking that a warm bed and lots of uninterrupted sleep would be important during an intensive training camp. LM, MB and I got along really well for people living in such close quarters – and Larry got a kick out of telling everyone I was his daughter!
Getting our money’s worth
Training started at 8 a.m. on Wednesday morning. Our four coaches introduced themselves (these guys are superstars in the skydiving world!) and gave us an overview of how the camp would work. Unfortunately, they had to break the news to us that very first morning that we might not have enough people there to break the existing Canadian record. A few weeks before the camp, a dropzone in Montreal announced that they, too, were organizing a Canadian record attempt that summer. I guess many people decided to drop out of the P3 camp and just participate in a record closer to home instead. Yes, they saved a lot of money (no flight, hotel, world-class trainers to pay), but they missed out on an amazing learning opportunity.
I had already told myself that I was going to this event mainly for the training camp – and if I managed to help break a record, all the better. I suppose it was because of that mindset that I wasn’t too crushed by the news that all these people had dropped out of the event.
After giving us some theoretical classroom training, our coaches split us up into groups of twenty skydivers and we went to work applying the principles they had just taught us. The P3 camp organizers are all highly experienced skydivers and coaches – and it showed. Our jumps went really well, even if we didn’t always manage to build the formations fully on those first few jumps. During the video debriefs, after each jump, they pointed out what was done well, and (gently) what wasn’t done so well. Everyone seemed to be getting better and better each time. I worked hard at just “doing my job”: trying to be exactly where I was supposed to be on all our skydives so I wouldn’t stick out on the video! It worked well, because they made me the last one out of the plane – a slot usually reserved for the most experienced jumpers! I had a blast on all of those jumps, feeling like every one was better than the last.
Canopy Crash Course
I wrote periodic updates on how our training was going on Facebook, but I didn’t write anything about my botched landings because I didn’t want any of my “Moms” to worry about me. I have never had any problems with controlling my canopy – from the very start of my skydiving “career”, I’ve been able to land the canopy on my feet, almost exactly where I want, all the time. Which is why I was so frustrated that I kept sliding in, covering my jumpsuit and rig with grass or mud... After my fifth such inelegant landing, a few people came to see me to ask if I was ok. I was a bit bruised up, but mostly embarassed at my inability to land on my feet. This had never happened before! Had I forgotten how to land in six months? What was going on?
Finally, LM pulled me aside and explained that because the site we were on was about 1,200 feet above sea level, it was normal for my canopy to fly a lot faster. He also pointed out that I was wearing a ton of lead to be able to fall faster – which also made me come in for landing faster. I felt a bit better, but still embarassed – especially when the organizers came to see me to offer to lend me a bigger, slower canopy to jump with. They thought I had a tiny, high-performance canopy... when I really already have a big (for my size), slow canopy! Someone then suggested I talk to Les, the resident canopy piloting expert. Les told me he’d film my next landing and then go over my technique with me. (Of course, I landed hard – again. Even more embarassing since I knew he was filming.) He pulled me into a training room and started drawing on the board, giving me a crash course in canopy landing. Turns out I was still flying my parachute like a “student” canopy – and once I had learned the principles of flying a faster canopy, I had no more problems landing. I landed on my feet every single time after that. Phew!
Side trips to San Diego and Temecula Valley Wine Country
After 18 jumps and three days of training, we were given a day off, so we decided to drive down the Pacific coast to San Diego. We saw a lot of surfers and gorgeous places with names like Oceanside, Torrey Pines and La Jolla. Once we were in downtown San Diego, we picked up a few pamphlets from the tourist office and decided to go visit an aviation museum that was on an air force base just outside the city. MB was like a kid in a candy store there, of course! Then we drove back into town and walked around the shops, visited an outdoor shopping centre (first time for MB), and had some gelato on a patio (even if it wasn’t that warm). Happy day.
The next day became another day off because of the torrential rain. And then the next day was off too, so we decided to visit a nearby winery – my first time. In fact, there were a lot of “firsts” on this trip for both of us: first three-plane formation, first four-plane formation, first time jumping out of a plane with a tailgate instead of a side door (Skyvan), first-time jumping from 16,000 feet (with oxygen!), first time having to climb back into the plane after hanging on to the side of it (eeeeeep!)...
In the skydiving community, the tradition is that when anyone has a “first” something, they have to buy beer for everyone else. So, yeah, we bought a lot of beer on this trip! We didn’t drink that much of it, though, because we wanted to be in good shape for the 8 a.m. starts to training.
A 20-way that became a 10-way
During the camp, we were given the chance to try out several different slots (in the very centre, middle area, or outside of the formation) and several different exit positions. Someone my size is typically one of the last ones diving out of the plane and docking onto the outside of the formation. The reason for this is that as more and more people hold hands, they start flying slower as a group. So the last person to dock onto the formation has to slow down their fall rate to keep up – which is usually harder to do for a bigger, heavier person.
On this dive, I was given a “floater” exit position. The floaters are the ones that hang onto the outside of the plane, then just launch themselves off and “float” up to their position in the formation. (No one actually “floats” or goes “up”; it has to do with the position of the relative wind as you exit the aircraft. Everyone falls at around the same speed of 200 km/h.) I don’t like floating as much as diving because... well... it’s COLD on the outside of the plane, 13,000 feet in the air! I also find it hard to fight against the wind to hold on. But then again, floaters get a pretty cool view: they look up and watch everyone exit the plane after them.
When the green light comes on, I climb out of the plane, looking over at the other plane and watching for the other half of our group to go (which is our cue to follow!). I see the plane for half a second, and then... it dives down! I look back at the people behind me, who are still getting into position along the side of the aircraft. We are all looking at each other, looking around the sky, then back at each other. I’m starting to wonder how much longer I can hold on before just dropping off. I mean, I have a parachute, I would be ok if I fell off, but the idea is to jump as a group!
Then, all of a sudden, I feel myself being pulled back into the plane. I’m out of breath and my heart is racing, so I move to sit down. Everyone on the outside is pulled back into the plane, looking a bit dazed. As LM wrote in his version of the events, “Brett [a fellow skydiver and friend] decided it was time for somebody to take charge and suddenly put himself nose to nose with Kim and shouted "Sit down and relax!" Kim was already sitting down, and seemed pretty relaxed to me. At least, she was until Brett started shouting at her. Somebody needed to relax, but I don't think it was her.”
That’s when our pilot shouted back “why didn’t you guys go?”. We still didn’t know what had happened to the other plane, but our plane captain (the one in charge; not Brett) smiled to all of us and said (well, yelled, over the plane’s engine), “we’re just all going to jump together and make a big circle, ok?” So we did. It was fun.
Turns out there was a slight communication problem between the two pilots, and the other plane got the “green light” to go way before we did. They had already jumped when we started climbing out and getting into position (which is why I saw the plane dive away). They were pretty confused too when they built their part of the formation, looked around, and realized half of the people were missing!
To be continued in Part Two...
lundi 2 août 2010
lundi 12 juillet 2010
Always pack your own parachute
Disclaimer: This story probably won't make you want to skydive. (But I do have many MORE stories that WILL make you want to skydive!)
Last weekend was a busy one. I did ten organized group jumps at a dropzone (skydiving centre) north of Montreal, one of which was a two-plane, 27-person formation (my biggest yet!). (Poor MB, he's going to be so jealous...)
It was an amazing weekend, but unfortunately, it ended on a sour note...
It was unbearably hot all weekend. Up in the air, we were quite comfortable -- I hate it when it's cold! But even if we tried to stay out of the sun between skydives, by the end of the afternoon yesterday, we had no energy left to keep packing our own parachutes (which is pretty much the most labour-intensive part of skydiving). So my friend JL and I decided to have our parachutes packed by the staff at the dropzone. Letting someone else pack my parachute always makes me nervous, especially when I don’t know them, but we just couldn’t bear to do it in the heat anymore (and we wanted to keep jumping!).
Usually "packers" are very experienced -- they pack parachutes all day and can do it faster and better than I can. But while JL’s parachute was being packed, she overheard one of the instructors go, “hey, what the hell are you doing?” He had just walked through the packing tent and seen the kid who was packing JL's parachute apparently doing a really botched job. This kid apparently grumbled something, started over, but finished up in a matter of minutes and then brought JL her parachute.
Obviously JL was really nervous, so we opened up the pack just a bit to see what the inside looked like. It was messy. The lines (the cords going from the risers to the fabric portion of the parachute) were all uneven and looked like they had been stuffed any which way into the bag. Some people have a very carefree attitude about packing their parachutes (saying "oh, it'll open up no matter how you pack it" -- which isn't exactly true), but JL is rather the type to always pack her parachute in a neat and tidy fashion (so am I, for that matter). Seeing JL so panic-stricken, on the verge of tears, we all told her that she should sit out the jump and take the time to re-pack that mess, but she didn’t want to “mess up our dive”. (We would have had to quickly plan another freefall routine without her, but so what?)
Finally, her boyfriend just helped her straighten out what he could without completely unpacking the parachute. He tried to reassure her that it would be fine, that this kid had packed his parachute all day and he hadn't had any problems. But the whole time we were walking to the plane, I was looking at her, seeing how anxious she was, and telling myself I should insist, and tell her she shouldn’t take the chance. Finally, I didn't go any farther. I figured she was an adult and I couldn’t tell her what to do.
Well, unsurprisingly, the parachute didn’t open properly. The lines were all tangled and it spun her out of control, so she had to use her reserve parachute for the very first time (after about 800 jumps without a single problem -- probably because she always packs her parachute so well!).
Now obviously, that's what the reserve parachute is there for, and all's well that ends well. JL is fine -- physically at least. But I felt sick to my stomach for not having insisted she sit out the jump –- it could have ended much worse. What would you have done in my situation??
Not a great ending to a fun weekend.
Last weekend was a busy one. I did ten organized group jumps at a dropzone (skydiving centre) north of Montreal, one of which was a two-plane, 27-person formation (my biggest yet!). (Poor MB, he's going to be so jealous...)
It was an amazing weekend, but unfortunately, it ended on a sour note...
It was unbearably hot all weekend. Up in the air, we were quite comfortable -- I hate it when it's cold! But even if we tried to stay out of the sun between skydives, by the end of the afternoon yesterday, we had no energy left to keep packing our own parachutes (which is pretty much the most labour-intensive part of skydiving). So my friend JL and I decided to have our parachutes packed by the staff at the dropzone. Letting someone else pack my parachute always makes me nervous, especially when I don’t know them, but we just couldn’t bear to do it in the heat anymore (and we wanted to keep jumping!).
Usually "packers" are very experienced -- they pack parachutes all day and can do it faster and better than I can. But while JL’s parachute was being packed, she overheard one of the instructors go, “hey, what the hell are you doing?” He had just walked through the packing tent and seen the kid who was packing JL's parachute apparently doing a really botched job. This kid apparently grumbled something, started over, but finished up in a matter of minutes and then brought JL her parachute.
Obviously JL was really nervous, so we opened up the pack just a bit to see what the inside looked like. It was messy. The lines (the cords going from the risers to the fabric portion of the parachute) were all uneven and looked like they had been stuffed any which way into the bag. Some people have a very carefree attitude about packing their parachutes (saying "oh, it'll open up no matter how you pack it" -- which isn't exactly true), but JL is rather the type to always pack her parachute in a neat and tidy fashion (so am I, for that matter). Seeing JL so panic-stricken, on the verge of tears, we all told her that she should sit out the jump and take the time to re-pack that mess, but she didn’t want to “mess up our dive”. (We would have had to quickly plan another freefall routine without her, but so what?)
Finally, her boyfriend just helped her straighten out what he could without completely unpacking the parachute. He tried to reassure her that it would be fine, that this kid had packed his parachute all day and he hadn't had any problems. But the whole time we were walking to the plane, I was looking at her, seeing how anxious she was, and telling myself I should insist, and tell her she shouldn’t take the chance. Finally, I didn't go any farther. I figured she was an adult and I couldn’t tell her what to do.
Well, unsurprisingly, the parachute didn’t open properly. The lines were all tangled and it spun her out of control, so she had to use her reserve parachute for the very first time (after about 800 jumps without a single problem -- probably because she always packs her parachute so well!).
Now obviously, that's what the reserve parachute is there for, and all's well that ends well. JL is fine -- physically at least. But I felt sick to my stomach for not having insisted she sit out the jump –- it could have ended much worse. What would you have done in my situation??
Not a great ending to a fun weekend.
vendredi 19 février 2010
Skydiving videos
Why I'm never doing CRW. This too.
But on a more positive note: amazing VRW. Which I am definitely doing one day.
(Only thing, in that video: who knows if the 9-year-old and the 11-year-old in that last video will actually be able to handle or enjoy jumping out of a plane, landing a canopy, etc., no matter how good they are in freefall...)
But on a more positive note: amazing VRW. Which I am definitely doing one day.
(Only thing, in that video: who knows if the 9-year-old and the 11-year-old in that last video will actually be able to handle or enjoy jumping out of a plane, landing a canopy, etc., no matter how good they are in freefall...)
samedi 28 novembre 2009
Piquée par le virus
À l’automne 2008, je me suis jetée dans le vide. J'ai sauté d’un avion depuis 13 500 pieds du sol.
Heureusement, j’étais bien attachée à un instructeur tandem (tandem master) qui a ouvert notre parachute 45 secondes après que nous ayons sauté de l'avion, et qui nous a posés tout doucement sur l’aire d’atterrissage quelques minutes plus tard. Mais avant même de toucher le sol, je voulais recommencer.
Impossible d’exprimer par des mots la sensation éprouvée par la chute libre! Tout le monde se demande quel effet cela fait de sauter en parachute. Est-ce comme se laisser tomber? Ou est-ce plutôt comme flotter dans l’eau ou faire de l’apnée? En fait, ce n’est qu’en le vivant pour soi que l’on peut réellement comprendre ce que c’est que de « voler », car comme le disent souvent les parachutistes : « si voyager en avion, c'est voler; alors voyager en bateau, c'est nager ». En bref, la sensation que procure le parachutisme ne s’explique pas… elle se vit. Pour moi, cela se traduit par un calme et une clarté inimaginables, l’impression de me trouver entièrement plongée dans l'immédiat – car pendant le saut, je ne peux penser à rien d’autre.
Participants do not freeze with fear; instead their perceptions seem to open up, resulting in the same heightened sense of awareness and calmness associated with meditation. [...] This mental state of complete involvement and focus, a loss of self-consciousness and a sense of passing time is what psychologists term 'flow.' For centuries, practitioners of Eastern religions have sought flow through meditation. […] many extreme athletes report transcendental flow experiences similar to those of meditation practitioners.
Sept jours après mon premier saut, je me jetais de nouveau d’un avion, mais cette fois-ci, j’étais équipée de mon propre parachute. J'étais accompagnée de deux instructeurs durant la chute libre, mais une fois ma voilure ouverte, je me suis retrouvée complètement seule, avec pour seul contact humain une radio par lequel un instructeur au sol me dirigeait vers l'aire d'atterrissage. Je me sentais libre. Je volais en quelque sorte de mes propres ailes. Et c’est comme ça que j’ai été piquée par le virus du parachutisme.
Heureusement, j’étais bien attachée à un instructeur tandem (tandem master) qui a ouvert notre parachute 45 secondes après que nous ayons sauté de l'avion, et qui nous a posés tout doucement sur l’aire d’atterrissage quelques minutes plus tard. Mais avant même de toucher le sol, je voulais recommencer.
Impossible d’exprimer par des mots la sensation éprouvée par la chute libre! Tout le monde se demande quel effet cela fait de sauter en parachute. Est-ce comme se laisser tomber? Ou est-ce plutôt comme flotter dans l’eau ou faire de l’apnée? En fait, ce n’est qu’en le vivant pour soi que l’on peut réellement comprendre ce que c’est que de « voler », car comme le disent souvent les parachutistes : « si voyager en avion, c'est voler; alors voyager en bateau, c'est nager ». En bref, la sensation que procure le parachutisme ne s’explique pas… elle se vit. Pour moi, cela se traduit par un calme et une clarté inimaginables, l’impression de me trouver entièrement plongée dans l'immédiat – car pendant le saut, je ne peux penser à rien d’autre.
Participants do not freeze with fear; instead their perceptions seem to open up, resulting in the same heightened sense of awareness and calmness associated with meditation. [...] This mental state of complete involvement and focus, a loss of self-consciousness and a sense of passing time is what psychologists term 'flow.' For centuries, practitioners of Eastern religions have sought flow through meditation. […] many extreme athletes report transcendental flow experiences similar to those of meditation practitioners.
Sept jours après mon premier saut, je me jetais de nouveau d’un avion, mais cette fois-ci, j’étais équipée de mon propre parachute. J'étais accompagnée de deux instructeurs durant la chute libre, mais une fois ma voilure ouverte, je me suis retrouvée complètement seule, avec pour seul contact humain une radio par lequel un instructeur au sol me dirigeait vers l'aire d'atterrissage. Je me sentais libre. Je volais en quelque sorte de mes propres ailes. Et c’est comme ça que j’ai été piquée par le virus du parachutisme.
vendredi 2 octobre 2009
Winter
How the heck am I going to make it a whole winter without skydiving? I woke up in the middle of last night thinking about jumping. And it's only been three weeks since my last time at a dropzone...
A trip to Puerto Rico for the boogie + some middle-of-the-winter sunshine would be soooo nice - when I heard about the boogie it reminded me that there were a ton of ideas on things to do in Puerto Rico on the Sweet Juniper blog. I didn't know Puerto Rico had rainforests and mountains and hiking! I thought it was just beaches (nice for a few days, but gets boring quickly!).
A trip to Puerto Rico for the boogie + some middle-of-the-winter sunshine would be soooo nice - when I heard about the boogie it reminded me that there were a ton of ideas on things to do in Puerto Rico on the Sweet Juniper blog. I didn't know Puerto Rico had rainforests and mountains and hiking! I thought it was just beaches (nice for a few days, but gets boring quickly!).
jeudi 24 septembre 2009
Why I skydive
Some excerpts from “An Exploration of High-Risk Leisure Consumption through Skydiving” (Celsi et al 1993)
“Twenty skydivers rise and line up tightly in single file, as the DC-3, cruising at 100 knots, levels off two and one-half miles above the swamps of central Florida. In their bright jumpsuits, they form a sort of surreal.rumba line snaking toward the white light of the open DC-3 door. She is last out on this "twenty way" jump. Her job is to dive headfirst, in as fast and as controlled a manner as possible, to catch up to the skydivers exiting in front of her. Without exception the laws of physics will separate the skydivers as they exit, accelerating tbe first to leave away from those that follow. She lives for this. Nothing else exists for her now beyond this moment. The engines cut. Ready! Set! Go! She dives through the door. Like a body surfer, she rides the wave of the wind down and away from the plane. She descends head first, at vertical speeds approaching 200 miles per hour, toward the tiny cluster of skydivers below her. Tacitly judging distance and speed, she decelerates to perfectly match their slower fall rate. She does this by changing her body position from a dive to a flare, much like a bird landing or swooping in on prey. Gently, she settles into her assigned slot, taking a grip on the skydiver next to her. She smiles and calmly anticipates the next sequence in the dive. […]”
“Motives, initially normative and externally derived, evolve to motives of efficacy, identity formation, and transcendent experience. A related pattern of risk acculturation coincides which results in the normalization of the initially frightening behavior.”
“Informants describe the skydiving act as one of total absorption that provides them not only with thrill and excitement, but also a sense of involvement that transcends mundane experience. When asked why they skydive, they invariably say "because it’s fun." When pressed, they collectively respond that nothing else exists in their world but that moment itself—no sense of time, just a kind of holistic oneness that makes them feel good and somehow changed.
This transcendent state, or "flow experience" (Csikszentmihalyi 1974), occurs when a situation demands total participation from the individual. As such, flow is a phenomenological state where self, self-awareness, behavior, and context form a unitized singular experience. Thus, flow is a state of total involvement where one moment "flows" holistically into the next without "conscious intervention" (Csikszentmihalyi 1974, p. 58). In this sense, flow is transcendent and typically recognized by the experiencing individual as such only when the state is diminished (also see Mitchell 1983). Csikszentmihalyi (1975) believes the flow experience is the manifestation of a person’s "true" self, unconstrained temporally by convention or by self-awareness. Flow provides a sense of self and self-efficacy that is highly satisfying and self-fulfilling.”
“[…] with full acculturation the participant learns to manage the high-risk context and attains insider status, the risk experience becomes normalized, fear recedes, and s/he begins to view skydiving as a sport to be enjoyed like any other. It becomes the norm with the full assumption of a high-risk identity (van Gennep 1960). Risk and outcomes associated with it are accepted as due course and are overtly questioned only when injury or death interrupts the status quo. Finally, as the participant passes through this period of acculturation and evolves a stable high-risk identity ("I am a skydiver"), the need to share experiences and to rationalize to outsiders diminishes. "Yeah, you used to try to get all your friends to make a jump, let’s go, let’s go. . . . [now] I just don’t talk about skydiving much anymore [to outsiders] unless somebody asks me. I don’t know why that is either. . . . I guess it’s not a hobby anymore, it’s a way of life, so to speak (wm 26, more than 1,400 jumps).”
vendredi 14 août 2009
What do yoga and skydiving have in common?
I've said from the beginning that I thought skydiving was very "zen"...
"Participants do not freeze with fear; instead their perceptions seem to open up, resulting in the same heightened sense of awareness and calmness associated with meditation. Out of all the themes common to the extreme sports experience, this one surprises Willig, the London psychologist, the most. 'When you look at extreme sports from the outside, they look so fast, so ferocious,' she says.
Rich Gottleib loves the calmness and clarity, the sense of being completely in the present that comes with climbing. 'It’s a very immediate thing. It totally removes you, totally injects you. In that moment, reality cannot rear its ugly head.'
This mental state of complete involvement and focus, a loss of self-consciousness and a sense of passing time is what psychologists term 'flow.' For centuries, practitioners of Eastern religions have sought flow through meditation. Brymer finds that many extreme athletes report transcendental flow experiences similar to those of meditation practitioners."
Source
See also: http://www.oric.org.au/Resources/Rsch_extreme.html
"Participants do not freeze with fear; instead their perceptions seem to open up, resulting in the same heightened sense of awareness and calmness associated with meditation. Out of all the themes common to the extreme sports experience, this one surprises Willig, the London psychologist, the most. 'When you look at extreme sports from the outside, they look so fast, so ferocious,' she says.
Rich Gottleib loves the calmness and clarity, the sense of being completely in the present that comes with climbing. 'It’s a very immediate thing. It totally removes you, totally injects you. In that moment, reality cannot rear its ugly head.'
This mental state of complete involvement and focus, a loss of self-consciousness and a sense of passing time is what psychologists term 'flow.' For centuries, practitioners of Eastern religions have sought flow through meditation. Brymer finds that many extreme athletes report transcendental flow experiences similar to those of meditation practitioners."
Source
See also: http://www.oric.org.au/Resources/Rsch_extreme.html
Sport Psychology
J'ai fait des recherches terminologiques en psychologie du sport hier, pour aider AL à traduire un passage difficile (j'ai d'ailleurs promis à une représentante de l'ACPS que je réviserais le document une fois la traduction terminée).
Pourquoi sommes-nous parachutistes? Pourquoi sauter d'un avion en parfait état de marche? (Réponse: There is no such thing as a perfectly good airplane.)
C'est drôle parce que j'ai assisté à des séminaires sur l'entraînement mental des athlètes tenus avant le début des chamiponnats nationaux, et il n'y a pas une seule personne qui a parlé du facteur "stress-de-sauter-en-bas-d'un-avion". Ce facteur-là n'existe tout simplement plus pour ceux qui ont des milliers de sauts. Le stress qu'ils ont à vaincre à ce niveau est celui de tous les athlètes : de bien performer.
Confirmed by this article - found through here.
"Emotional changes in skydivers in relation to experience"
Ian R. Price, and Claire Bundesen
Personality and Individual Differences Volume 38, Issue 5, April 2005, Pages 1203-1211
To read: In Pursuit of Excellence by Terry Orlick, a sport psychology prof at the U of O (highly recommended by Tana Nash as well as Monique from Tropical Fish)
as well as
Transcending Fear by Brian Germain (this one's been on my to-read list for a while now)
Pourquoi sommes-nous parachutistes? Pourquoi sauter d'un avion en parfait état de marche? (Réponse: There is no such thing as a perfectly good airplane.)
C'est drôle parce que j'ai assisté à des séminaires sur l'entraînement mental des athlètes tenus avant le début des chamiponnats nationaux, et il n'y a pas une seule personne qui a parlé du facteur "stress-de-sauter-en-bas-d'un-avion". Ce facteur-là n'existe tout simplement plus pour ceux qui ont des milliers de sauts. Le stress qu'ils ont à vaincre à ce niveau est celui de tous les athlètes : de bien performer.
Confirmed by this article - found through here.
"Emotional changes in skydivers in relation to experience"
Ian R. Price, and Claire Bundesen
Personality and Individual Differences Volume 38, Issue 5, April 2005, Pages 1203-1211
To read: In Pursuit of Excellence by Terry Orlick, a sport psychology prof at the U of O (highly recommended by Tana Nash as well as Monique from Tropical Fish)
as well as
Transcending Fear by Brian Germain (this one's been on my to-read list for a while now)
mercredi 5 août 2009
Mon 70e saut en parachute
In this photo, we are about 7000 feet above ground level. At around 5000 feet (12 seconds later), we all scatter, getting as far away from each other as possible. Then at 3000 feet (or a bit lower), we open our parachutes and glide down to the ground.
On Monday following this jump, we had a big divisional meeting at work. At the round table at the end of the meeting, I couldn't help it, I blurted out: I did a 21-way this weekend!! I was literally still on a high from what I had accomplished... (let's just say that all the other jumpers in this formation had a LOT more than 70 jumps under their belts... like several hundred more).
On Monday following this jump, we had a big divisional meeting at work. At the round table at the end of the meeting, I couldn't help it, I blurted out: I did a 21-way this weekend!! I was literally still on a high from what I had accomplished... (let's just say that all the other jumpers in this formation had a LOT more than 70 jumps under their belts... like several hundred more).
mercredi 22 juillet 2009
A Scary Skydiving Story
Skydivers are adrenaline junkies by definition. But this past weekend I got more than my required dose of adrenaline.
On Friday, MB and I did three jumps together at the dropzone in Joliette (Voltige). On our second jump, the pilot of the plane put the "jump" light on too late, so we ended up exiting the plane really far from the dropzone. Luckily, once we opened our parachutes and realized we wouldn't make it back to the designated landing area, we saw that there were a bunch of farmer's fields around that we could land in.
I decided to go for a large sandpit in the middle of the forest since it seemed closest to the dropzone. Looking back, I know that probably wasn't the best choice, but once I had picked it, I went with it. As I steered toward the sand pit, I looked over and saw MB heading in the same direction, but he was over the forest.
I landed fine, despite a bit of turbulence. I just got a bunch of sand in my stuff. But when I got up, I couldn't see MB anymore, he wasn’t in the sandpit with me. My first thought was that he'd tried to make it over the forest and onto the dropzone, and ended up in the trees!!
So I grabbed my parachute any which way and went tearing through the forest, not even caring that there were raspberry bushes tearing at my jumpsuit (and possibly my parachute!). Finally, I made it back to the dropzone, a bit disheveled and out of breath. No one knew where MB was. They weren't even sure if anyone was out looking for him! So I started panicking more and more, imagining him with a broken leg, in pain, alone in the forest. I felt frantic and helpless... and everyone was acting like it was no big deal. Arghh!!
Finally, as I'm taking my gear off and preparing to go into the forest looking for him myself, I saw him show up in the back of a pickup truck - he had decided to turn around and land back in a field near a road with another guy, and the dropzone owner went and picked them up. His landing went fine, he was ok, but I had just about worried myself sick thinking about him being hurt. Great experience for a first-time off-site landing...
THEN, as if that wasn't enough emotion for one weekend, we had another adventure on the Sunday. We came back to Gatineau and decided to go do a jump with our neighbours (the other “skydiving couple”). The jump (a 5-way/5-person formation jump) went well. We separated ( moving away from each other in freefall) and all opened our parachutes.
Once my ‘chute was open and I was sitting in my harness, before doing anything else, I looked around for the four other canopies, to see where everyone else was. One, two, three... and then I saw MB below me, spinning... and spinning... that's when I realized he wasn't just spinning for the fun of it. He was out of control, struggling to untwist his lines and stop the spinning. Line twists are a relatively common malfunction, and usually easy enough to fix - it's like when you're on a swing, and you spin the swing around and the two chains get wrapped up. All you have to do is spin the other way to unwrap them.
But Matt can't get out of these ones, because the canopy is spinning him in the direction opposite that he needs to spin to untwist the lines. I start hyperventilating. I'm going oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I look at my altimeter: I’m at about 1500 feet above the ground. He’s below me, and losing altitude fast because of the spinning. All I can think about is, I’m going to watch my boyfriend die right before me. I'm thinking that I shouldn’t watch. But I can’t peel my eyes away.
Finally, just when I think he's about to hit the ground, he pulls on his emergency handles and out pops his reserve parachute. (He was actually at about 1000 feet when he cut away his spinning parachute, but it looked a lot lower from my vantage point.) Wayyyy too close for comfort.
Once I saw his reserve parachute open safely, I focused on controlling my breathing and landing my own parachute. I don’t even remember flying back to the dropzone. As soon as my feet touched the ground and I lowered my canopy I exploded into tears (you know, the loud, wheezing sobs you can’t stop).
I was debating not telling anyone he had a malfunction (I'm definitely not telling my parents) because I don’t want anyone to worry too much about us. Skydiving is a high-risk activity, granted, but I’ve always felt that it’s a very calculated risk. In fact, everything worked just the way it was supposed to in this incident: MB did the emergency procedure correctly, and that's exactly what the reserve parachute is there for.
I just wish he'd had his first malfunction sometime I wasn't there and didn't have to watch that, all those thoughts of losing him going through my head.
What a weekend.
On Friday, MB and I did three jumps together at the dropzone in Joliette (Voltige). On our second jump, the pilot of the plane put the "jump" light on too late, so we ended up exiting the plane really far from the dropzone. Luckily, once we opened our parachutes and realized we wouldn't make it back to the designated landing area, we saw that there were a bunch of farmer's fields around that we could land in.
I decided to go for a large sandpit in the middle of the forest since it seemed closest to the dropzone. Looking back, I know that probably wasn't the best choice, but once I had picked it, I went with it. As I steered toward the sand pit, I looked over and saw MB heading in the same direction, but he was over the forest.
I landed fine, despite a bit of turbulence. I just got a bunch of sand in my stuff. But when I got up, I couldn't see MB anymore, he wasn’t in the sandpit with me. My first thought was that he'd tried to make it over the forest and onto the dropzone, and ended up in the trees!!
So I grabbed my parachute any which way and went tearing through the forest, not even caring that there were raspberry bushes tearing at my jumpsuit (and possibly my parachute!). Finally, I made it back to the dropzone, a bit disheveled and out of breath. No one knew where MB was. They weren't even sure if anyone was out looking for him! So I started panicking more and more, imagining him with a broken leg, in pain, alone in the forest. I felt frantic and helpless... and everyone was acting like it was no big deal. Arghh!!
Finally, as I'm taking my gear off and preparing to go into the forest looking for him myself, I saw him show up in the back of a pickup truck - he had decided to turn around and land back in a field near a road with another guy, and the dropzone owner went and picked them up. His landing went fine, he was ok, but I had just about worried myself sick thinking about him being hurt. Great experience for a first-time off-site landing...
THEN, as if that wasn't enough emotion for one weekend, we had another adventure on the Sunday. We came back to Gatineau and decided to go do a jump with our neighbours (the other “skydiving couple”). The jump (a 5-way/5-person formation jump) went well. We separated ( moving away from each other in freefall) and all opened our parachutes.
Once my ‘chute was open and I was sitting in my harness, before doing anything else, I looked around for the four other canopies, to see where everyone else was. One, two, three... and then I saw MB below me, spinning... and spinning... that's when I realized he wasn't just spinning for the fun of it. He was out of control, struggling to untwist his lines and stop the spinning. Line twists are a relatively common malfunction, and usually easy enough to fix - it's like when you're on a swing, and you spin the swing around and the two chains get wrapped up. All you have to do is spin the other way to unwrap them.
But Matt can't get out of these ones, because the canopy is spinning him in the direction opposite that he needs to spin to untwist the lines. I start hyperventilating. I'm going oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I look at my altimeter: I’m at about 1500 feet above the ground. He’s below me, and losing altitude fast because of the spinning. All I can think about is, I’m going to watch my boyfriend die right before me. I'm thinking that I shouldn’t watch. But I can’t peel my eyes away.
Finally, just when I think he's about to hit the ground, he pulls on his emergency handles and out pops his reserve parachute. (He was actually at about 1000 feet when he cut away his spinning parachute, but it looked a lot lower from my vantage point.) Wayyyy too close for comfort.
Once I saw his reserve parachute open safely, I focused on controlling my breathing and landing my own parachute. I don’t even remember flying back to the dropzone. As soon as my feet touched the ground and I lowered my canopy I exploded into tears (you know, the loud, wheezing sobs you can’t stop).
I was debating not telling anyone he had a malfunction (I'm definitely not telling my parents) because I don’t want anyone to worry too much about us. Skydiving is a high-risk activity, granted, but I’ve always felt that it’s a very calculated risk. In fact, everything worked just the way it was supposed to in this incident: MB did the emergency procedure correctly, and that's exactly what the reserve parachute is there for.
I just wish he'd had his first malfunction sometime I wasn't there and didn't have to watch that, all those thoughts of losing him going through my head.
What a weekend.
mardi 14 juillet 2009
Top 5 Skydiving Locations
The following information was sourced from Sky and Snow Adventures.
Le Marche, Italy
Situated in Central Italy on the Adriatic Sea side, the ‘Le Marche’ region is spectacular. The Skydiving centre situated only 2 minutes away from the beach, near the small seaside town of ‘Porto san Giorgio’. Famous for it precious flat blue seas, a soft velvet beach, long, tree-lined avenues, an avant-garde tourist port, winner of the E.E.C blue flag award, surrounded by a peaceful green oasis. Within 50km the land rises from sea level to 2478m at Mount Vettore. This rugged yet beautiful mountain chain rises in the heart of Le Marche and reaches Mt. Vettore. It is a territory of sublime nature, history and old culture. In 1993 the Monti Sibillini National Park was born to save this unique environment.
Zephyrhills Florida
Operating our courses out of the city of Zephyrhills, which is known as the "Friendly City" and the "City of Pure Water," semi-rural Zephyrhills offers the vistas of hills and gentle breezes off the Gulf of Mexico from its vantage point northeast of Tampa. Close to major cities yet distant from the hustle and bustle, the city is known for its pastoral cattle ranches, colorful citrus groves, and productive poultry farms as well as its community events, shopping opportunities and recreational activities. Florida's Beaches are just 45 minutes away! Close to everything, yet miles away. A beautiful peninsula located on Florida's West coast, the area is bordered by the Gulf of Mexico to the west and by Tampa Bay to the east.
Sao Paulo Brazil
No need for any introduction. True Paradise!!!If you dream about a sunny land where the sun shines all year, waters are warm, coconut trees, long white beaches, vibrant nightlife. If you want to jump in this magical land, let us know. Located just outside Sao Paulo in a town called Boituva, the drop zone is a perfect location. It’s the best place to jump in Latin America and maybe the world, and recently hosted the Skydiving world Championships.
Seville Spain
The Capital of southern Spain and in the very heart of Andalusian culture, the centre of bullfighting and Flamenco music. Renown for its fantastic nightlife and culture, with hundreds of restaurants, bars and nightclubs. The most beautiful beaches are also close to hand. So if you want a break from jumping for the afternoon, a short car drive away you could find yourself sitting on white sand beaches, drinking sangria and tasting some of the finest local cuisine. With Seville’s great culture, nightlife, beaches, and accessibility too many major airlines, this would be a great location to start your skydiving career and beyond.
San Diego California
California's second largest city. Where blue skies keep watch on 70 miles of beaches and a gentle Mediterranean climate begs for a day of everything and nothing. Bordered by Mexico, the Pacific Ocean, the Anza-Borrego Desert and the Laguna Mountains. San Diego serves up an enticing menu of dining and nightlife options. Whether you are craving live music, dancing, filet mignon or a fish taco, we'll help you find a place to match your style. Nightclub scene heats up after dark. From casual seaside nightspots to upscale dance clubs, there are many great places to unwind at the end of the day.
Le Marche, Italy
Situated in Central Italy on the Adriatic Sea side, the ‘Le Marche’ region is spectacular. The Skydiving centre situated only 2 minutes away from the beach, near the small seaside town of ‘Porto san Giorgio’. Famous for it precious flat blue seas, a soft velvet beach, long, tree-lined avenues, an avant-garde tourist port, winner of the E.E.C blue flag award, surrounded by a peaceful green oasis. Within 50km the land rises from sea level to 2478m at Mount Vettore. This rugged yet beautiful mountain chain rises in the heart of Le Marche and reaches Mt. Vettore. It is a territory of sublime nature, history and old culture. In 1993 the Monti Sibillini National Park was born to save this unique environment.
Zephyrhills Florida
Operating our courses out of the city of Zephyrhills, which is known as the "Friendly City" and the "City of Pure Water," semi-rural Zephyrhills offers the vistas of hills and gentle breezes off the Gulf of Mexico from its vantage point northeast of Tampa. Close to major cities yet distant from the hustle and bustle, the city is known for its pastoral cattle ranches, colorful citrus groves, and productive poultry farms as well as its community events, shopping opportunities and recreational activities. Florida's Beaches are just 45 minutes away! Close to everything, yet miles away. A beautiful peninsula located on Florida's West coast, the area is bordered by the Gulf of Mexico to the west and by Tampa Bay to the east.
Sao Paulo Brazil
No need for any introduction. True Paradise!!!If you dream about a sunny land where the sun shines all year, waters are warm, coconut trees, long white beaches, vibrant nightlife. If you want to jump in this magical land, let us know. Located just outside Sao Paulo in a town called Boituva, the drop zone is a perfect location. It’s the best place to jump in Latin America and maybe the world, and recently hosted the Skydiving world Championships.
Seville Spain
The Capital of southern Spain and in the very heart of Andalusian culture, the centre of bullfighting and Flamenco music. Renown for its fantastic nightlife and culture, with hundreds of restaurants, bars and nightclubs. The most beautiful beaches are also close to hand. So if you want a break from jumping for the afternoon, a short car drive away you could find yourself sitting on white sand beaches, drinking sangria and tasting some of the finest local cuisine. With Seville’s great culture, nightlife, beaches, and accessibility too many major airlines, this would be a great location to start your skydiving career and beyond.
San Diego California
California's second largest city. Where blue skies keep watch on 70 miles of beaches and a gentle Mediterranean climate begs for a day of everything and nothing. Bordered by Mexico, the Pacific Ocean, the Anza-Borrego Desert and the Laguna Mountains. San Diego serves up an enticing menu of dining and nightlife options. Whether you are craving live music, dancing, filet mignon or a fish taco, we'll help you find a place to match your style. Nightclub scene heats up after dark. From casual seaside nightspots to upscale dance clubs, there are many great places to unwind at the end of the day.
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