It was a warm summer night in Colorado and I was goofing off with my brothers in our backyard. After an “innocent” back flip with a wet grass landing, I wound up in the Vail Valley Medical Center with a shattered wrist in need of three surgeries, 12 titanium screws and two plates. The morning after the accident I was supposed to go skydiving with my older brother and sister, but, clearly, could not. I was devastated. I was so upset to miss out on such an amazing experience, but am a firm believer in the “everything-happens-for-a-reason” theory, so, c’est la vie.
A year and a half later, I found myself strapped to a British man named Dave, dangling out of an nine-seater plane over the Alps, asking me if I’m ready to fall. And all I can think of in my head is, why did I think this was a good idea again? but I enthusiastically reply with, “I’ve been ready!”
I have always had this vision of Switzerland as a crazy, extreme sport country. Whenever I have heard of people traveling to Europe and canyon-jumping, skiing, skydiving, paragliding, night sledding, anything ridiculous, it’s always in Switzerland. When a group of us decided the destination for the weekend was Interlaken, I knew I would be skydiving, whether anyone else wanted to go or not. Luckily, 11 other people were interested in the thrill. We researched various venues and found a group price at the company Skydive Switzerland. The company picked up our group from Balmers, our hostel, at noon and we returned at 4:30 pm. What happened in those four hours was not only life-changing, but also in slow motion.
I volunteered to go first, but the company had already divided us into four groups of three, and I was in the fourth group. Oddly enough, I never found myself truly anxious. It was, however, slightly unnerving when we were told our training session would be less than five minutes, and it turned out to be a quick two. Really? TWO minutes to teach us how to jump out of a plane from 14,000 feet!? But, again, c’est la vie.
Watching all of my friends suit up was equally as exciting as when I suited up myself. Just knowing what an incredible experience we were all about to endure was enough to plaster a smile across my face for an entire afternoon – scratch that – weekend. We were lucky with our weather, a little cloud coverage, but no wind or rain. The three groups on the ground would stare aimlessly into the sky and wait for the small ants of our friends to begin to emerge from the clouds. One then four then six! The came quickly behind one another and the shutes of varying colors floated back down to earth. Each person was priceless after the landing and all testaments were the same. Faces windblown, smiles appeared to be propped open, bodies moved like linguine and "that was the best thing I have ever done in my life!" on repeat for the next few minutes.
After the plane takes off, you fly for about fifteen minutes, and Dave, my professional partner, was giving me brief historical overviews of the places and mountains we were cruising over. Finally, when the tour guide stopped, the doors rolled up, and my photographer literally cannon-balled out of the plane, I knew it was my time. Dave waddled me up to the door, slid my Nikes over the edge and pulled me close. He reminded me to keep my hands on my suit and my head close to his right shoulder for the fall because he didn’t want me to get whip-lash (thanks). He also said that when he gave me a double-tap on my shoulder that meant it was time to let my hands and head be free. Then he casually asked me, “are you ready to fall?” And was I ever.
The initial drop out of the plane is a little blurry, which I am blaming on the flip Dave had us do instead of the normal dive, but other than that, the trip was in slow motion. I was expecting more of a dramatic drop feeling, similar to the sensation being on a roller coaster when you've just gone over the peak, but my stomach stayed calm throughout the entire time. A strong rush of air went through my nose and even in the tiny holes of my goggles. It was practically a wind-less day, but 14,000 feet up the air was strong and cold. Probably against my better judgment, I decided to not wear the gloves the company, "strongly advised." I had written "thanks" on the palm of my right hand, and "mom & dad" on my left; I want to take a picture in the air flashing my hands to the camera (see below), so gloves simply were not an option for the afternoon. Double tap on the left should and my arms were flying free. We were so high even , the highest peak in the Alps, was not showing. After a few more seconds, we moved through the clouds and popped out even with the peaks. My eyes could not move fast enough. Dave pointed out a few ski runs and I wondered if it was where the rest of the group had gone. And that's when I realized I was in the middle of a life changing experience. Literally, before jumping out of that plane, I had never experienced that and once I landed I would join a list of people who can say they've done that - dove through the sky from a plane and lived. I could have been skiing, but I chose to take a risk. I've been skiing since age 3 and love it, probably my favorite thing to do. But it's always easier to do the thing you love, the thing that's easy. That day I decided I was going to experiment with heights, adrenaline and trust.
Flip out of the plane..
"Thanks Mom & Dad! I Love U!"
Caught in the midst of gawking at the sights, I saw my camera man drop thousands of feet down below me and before I even had time to panic, Dave had pulled out shute and there we stayed. Although the rush of the free fall was indescribable, the long soaring period was unreal. It is so quiet you feel so in tune with your surroundings. I feel like I could almost hear the mountains breathing when the wind would whistle between the peaks. Dave pointed out more specific things this time, explained some of the meaning behind the Swiss architecture, made some light "death before landing" jokes, and before I knew it we were coming in fast, and I could see my friends waving me on below. The landing was not nearly as rough as anticipated, and for that I'm thankful!
Annnd here comes the shute...
See ya...
I guess I always could've gone skydiving back at home, but something about landing in the middle of cornfields just doesn't sound quite as appealing as landing in middle of the Alps. Nope, definitely not in Kansas anymore, and the more time I spend away, the more I learn that's not necessarily a bad thing.
And that's all she wrote.
No comments:
Post a Comment