(continued from previous post)

After a few minutes watching expert skydivers sail out of the blue and land with crumpling parachutes in the dropzone, the nerves settled into an elated sort of calm. I sent a message to my love. It was 4 in the morning UK time so he wouldn’t see it till it was over but I felt a strong need to contact him. I was going to write out a list of instructions for if I die, but I realised there was only one thing to say. I love you so much. 

Cried again. How simple and wonderful that facing a possible end, all I have is love. 

‘Flight 14,’ someone called, and we all huddled in the waiting room, watching the huge hangar full of equipment, ropes and cool people with bundles of parachute, laughing among themsleves. 

A small polite lady in an NZONE hoodie asked us to empty pockets and remove all jewellery. She gave us keys to lockers and selected a red and black jumpsuit off the rail for each of us to pull over our clothes. 

‘Are you nervous?’ asked an Irish girl. ‘Excited, I think,’ someone said. 

‘Well I feel too calm,’ another girl said. 

‘I know, it’s like unnervingly calm right now. Should be more scared. I think I just can’t comprehend it.’

‘Exactly.’ 

‘Laura!’ called a strong voice. And an instructor in a black dive suit rocked up to claim Laura. ‘You’re coming with me.’ 

We all watched in awe as Laura went off with her man. 

‘Miriam!’ 

‘Yes,’ I said, brave as I could. 

‘Hi, I’m Tim,’ said Tim, and held out a hand to shake. 

‘Hi Tim,’ I said, still with my brave voice on. 

‘Come on over here and we’ll get you kitted out.’

I grinned a goodbye to my flight mates and followed him. 

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked. 

‘Alright actually. Excited I think.’

‘That’s what we want to hear. OK just pop your legs through here…great job, and this over your arms. Awesome. Where are you from Miriam?’

He was full of friendly reassuring chats as I got all the kit on, with gloves, goggles on a hat thing, suit all zipped up, harness all secure. Minty fresh breath as he leaned over to tighten the straps. Of course, he gets close to people. Very considerate.

He cleaned the special glasses-friendly goggles thoroughly so I could remain spectacled throughout, looking rubbish but able to see every single detail when I’m up there. 

At that point I realised my anxiety pills in my bag were locked away, and the emergency ones in my back pocket were now inaccessible under all my zipped up suit. 

That’s that decision made for me then. 

‘How many jumps do you do a day?’ I asked as he tightened thick black straps around me. 

‘Seven or eight,’ he said breezily. Most I’ve done is 14 in one day.’ 

‘Wow.’

‘Yeah, Tim’s great,’ said a nearby instructor and they had a laugh about who was a better jumper. ‘Tim has been doing this for years, you’re in good hands,’ he assured me. 

So casual and confident all this chat. Such cool and good looking and capable instructors. What an amazing job. I bet if you jump out the sky for a living you don’t get anxious about things like showing up to a new parkrun or a complex council meeting. 

As we headed back out to the sunny waiting area he asked if I had any questions. 

‘No,’ I beamed, wishing I did. ‘I’m just really grateful, like, because you do this amazing thing of providing lifetime memories for people, and I guess just thank you that I can skydive over these glorious mountains because of you.’ I was gushing. 

‘Oh well its my job,’ he smiled, so calm and nonchalant next to my hyper babbling. 

The five of us 14ers gathered at the briefing area – a little circle of benches outside, where Tim perched in a seat made of a bit of plane and explained the process, the ‘banana pose’ to adopt when it’s time to jump – hold your harness, head back, hips forward, legs curved behind – with the help of a useful illustration board of a banana next to a grinning banana-posing skydiver. 

‘Remember to keep hold of your harness until the instructor taps your shoulder,’ he said, ‘then you can let go and wave to the camera.’ I’ll make a heart with my fingers, I thought optimistically, practicing the shape with my gloved hands. 

With the final adornment of life vest pouches clipped on (since we go over the lake), our instructors took each of us off to a scenic backdrop for our pre-jump interviews, part of the handicam service. I was grinning a lot, I did feel good, but looking at the video now I see there’s weird things happening with my arms and I can not keep still. ‘So, what do you want to tell your friends and family back home?’ he grinned. 

Should have thought about this. I cobbled some sentences together about overcoming fears while inexplicably waving my arms about behind me. 

‘Alright, let’s do this, girl!’ he said. 

As we approached the aircraft – a tiny little toy plane of a thing – he stopped at a screen by the gate and scanned the multicoulted boxes. 

‘OK, Miriam, so it looks like we’re first to jump.’ 

‘Oh shit, why?’ 

‘Probably because you’re doing 12,000 and the others are doing 15,000.

‘Of course, I laughed,’ a surge of fear tightening my stomach. 

‘Alright?’

‘Yep!’ 

Some grins and high fives for the camera and we followed everyone on to the plane. The other pairs were all crammed in, everyone facing the back. A couple of very cool solo guys were also squashed in, wearing mirror shades and all in black. So calm. 

There was one spot left on the floor next to the door and Tim hopped in, with his neat little parachute on his back, and sat down, legs apart. He slapped the floor between his legs and grinned at me.

Right.

I climbed in and took my place, legs out in front. Too scared and stunned to apply any inappropriate context to our sudden closeness. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up right against him. 

‘Alright,’ he beamed. ‘You OK?’ 

‘Yep,’ I said, because I could still speak at this point. The door was wide open and I was sitting right next to it, looking out at the green grass next to the runway. 

‘Do I hold on to…?’ 

Nothing. Not a thing to hold onto. Except Tm’s leg. Not a seatbelt or safety strap or bar or handle. Just me sitting on the floor between his legs. And he’s not holding on to anything either. The plane revved up and started moving. Fast. Loud. The door was still wide open as we left the speeding away ground and cruised up over the fields. He finally pulled down a thing. A plastic roller shutter flexiplastic wobbly see through thing with a few metal bars. That’s not a fucking door, I thought. We got higher and higher. Over the lake. Fuck it’s immense. So blue, so huge. Jesus this is terrifying. I thought of the little life vest and stared straight ahead to avoid looking at the icy lake. The plane swerved and we all leaned towards the flimsy plastic see through bit of cling film. At which point do I get attached to the man? He hasn’t attached me. I am just a loose unbuckled body sitting on the floor of a tiny plane as it sheers up through the sky over the lake and I have nothing to hold on to. Serious utter terror right now. In the minibus to get here we all had to be seatbelted and now I’m several thousand feet off the ground and not a shred of safety strapping. 

I have no choice but to trust. Tim knows what he’s doing. He does this eight times a day. Just trust him. 

He waves the camera at me. ‘How are you feeling Miriam?’ 

I raise a mute thumbs up as I can’t speak. Fucking hell we are high up. Deep breaths, thank you thank you. Just trust. Just breathe. 

Thank you Dave for paying for this for me, Thank you Jen for encouraging me. Thank you pilot who we all trust with our lives right now. Thank you Tim. Thank you aviation and science and planes and parachutes and thank you thank you thank you. 

He leaned in. ‘It’s going to get a bit bumpy now,’ he shouted. 

I nodded. 

The plane juddered and shook as it nearly scraped the sharp snowy ridges of a snowy peak just below. Over the shoulder of a calm guy to my left I could see magnificent snowy mountains through a safe little window, out of my right side I just saw instant death so I stopped looking. 

‘Isn’t it stunning?!’ he shouted. 

I nodded and stared ahead at the whiteboards and signs attached to the back of the plane. Something about altitide and windspeed. Numbers, rubbed out, written again. Some instructions about clipping in and tying off and not jumping if this and checking conditions of that. 

I don’t want to read safety rules on a laminated sign bluetacked to the back if the plane I’m about to dive out of. I clung to his leg with my left hand – not a shred of awkward – and tried to grip a metal ridge on the windowblind thing. Knowing that neither would provide enough grip if the plane went sideways.

After about 290 minutes (probably 5) Tim hoisted me closer into him and said, ‘Straighten your back now.’ Clip clip. 

Oh thank you heavenly father. We’re attached. 

Clips on my legs, clips on my shoulders. He checked them all, and each of the straps. Thank you, thank you. I could breathe again. 

I could also look out of the window then, at the jagged mountains everywhere. It was surreal to see the Remarkables stretching back so much further than we’re used to. This famous Lord of the Rings backdrop which we only see the smallest edge of, is a whole world of white and grey jagged peaks that continue for miles. There’s clouds now, little white drifts around the horizon. And we’re cruising high above all this. 

He hasn’t done my goggles yet. He must know. He knows, right. Goggles, Tim. Of course he knows. Trust. 

‘OK about one minute to go,’ he shouts. I nod.

‘You OK?’ 

I thumbs up with a mute smile.

‘Hold on to your harness now, good.’ 

My hands grip the straps over my chest.

He arranges my goggles over my glasses, tightening the straps. 

The plane’s engine judders and goes quiet and I know this is it. The plane seems to be still, suspended in the sky. 

Tim rolls open the plane. Blue, grey and white mountains stretch away to the horizon. Cold wind blowing everywhere. 

‘OK, you swing your legs out now,’ he says. 

I don’t need to do much as his swinging takes my legs too. We are sitting on the edge, feet dangling out of the plane in these last few seconds. My head is right back against shoulder, there’s one last grin at the camera and suddenly we’re out.

The plane disappears, the world flips and we’re upside down in the freezing sky surrounded by the roaring rush of the powerful wind. Just us in the vast sky free falling in sun and wind and mountains everywhere. Blue and immense and going on forever – mountains, lake, sky. 

Doesn’t feel like falling. Doesn’t feel like anything I know. Just loud and windy and fuck me I’m in the sky. My mouth wide open staring in awe at the endless ridges of mountains below. The blue lake is like a rock pool between jagged black and white rocks, the scale of things from up here is unbelievable. 

He’s signalling something with his arm and then tapping my shoulder, which I know is the sign for letting go but I can’t. Gripping tight to the harness straps on my chest. Can’t say anything over the roaring rush of wind tearing around us. My face being ripped around my goggles. He taps my shoulder again, I think about letting go but only manage a couple of fingers and shake my head politely, gripping tight. Were still falling through the sky, roaring wind against my burning cheeks and lips. 

He holds out his arm and does a countdown with his gloved fingers – three, two, one and then suddenly whoompphh and we’re pulled up by the huge unfurling red parachute. Oh that’s right, of course. I had forgotton this is the next bit. Gliding gently down. And now he can talk to me. ‘You alright?’ ‘Yes, it’s amaaaaaaazing!!’ 

High five! I finally let go of the harness, and manage an awkward right to right backwards high five/hand hold expression of jubilation. 

He takes off my goggles – wait, what? 

‘Your glasses are OK?’ 

Yeah, actually they are. Wow. This is so gentle. 

And then a pain in my thighs where the straps are digging in. Ow. But wow. The mountains are stunning, now there’s houses in little clusters. And then phhhhwoooooooom and he’s twirling – oh shit my stomach doesn’t like that. Phwoooom in the other direction. 

‘Isn’t it fantastic!?’ ‘Yes!’ 

The huge blue lake curving below us. Where’s my brother’s house? 

Phwoooomph.

Feeling better to not be over the lake. Can’t tell where we’re going to land. Really hope I don’t throw up, that would be embaressing. My mouth is dry and I feel all breathless now.

‘Here, you take control.’

‘No, no…’ 

‘Yeah, you want to feel it!’ 

And he’s placing the yellow handles in my gloved hands and it takes a while for me to get my grip but I get hold and with his help pull us to the right. 

Phwoooomph!

Wow. Swooping and gliding and sailing over the green and blue and beautiful. My stomach only lurches on the turns, this will be fine. Gliding down gently, everything is suddenly so green. He takes over the controls as we get closer. 

There’s a football game in a field over there, some houses getting closer, oh here’s our field full of cones, approaching fast. 

‘Pick up your legs now, grab those handles!’

Yep. 

And as we glide in to the grass, I lift my legs as high as I can, which is hard work even with the leg handles, but in a few seconds I’m sliding to a graceful, elegent stop on my bum. 

And I collapse backwards onto him. 

‘You did it girl!’ He laughs. 

The ground is so gloriously solid. My stomach is still lurching and I worry I might be sick, but it is fine. He unclips me and grins supportively as he records my few trembly grateful words in the camera. I manage a final high five and he says, ‘You did great. Now enjoy the rest of your day Miriam.’

Oh, what, he’s leaving me now? 

‘Thank you Tim, bye.’

I stumbled weakly back to the holding area, pushed a gate and stood there trembling. The lovely lady found me and took off the hood and goggles off. I was shaking so much I could hardly stand up. ‘Can you feel your fingers?’ she asked. ‘Yeah, tingly,’ I realised. But fine. 

‘It’s cold up there,’ she smiled, as she pulled the gloves off my trembling hands. 

Thank you. Thank you. 

I sat on the bench and slowly unzipped the suit while breathing deeply and shaking my head, and then remembered everyone else. Grabbed my locker key, found my phone and ran out to capture the rest of flight 14 landing elegantly in the field. Silhoutted beautiful parachuting humans. Seamless faultless landings. Silent crumpling parachutes. Everyone beaming with elation. 

Back home my brother was frustrated that I paid for the video but when he and Jen set it up on the big screen and we all watched it together – and squealed and laughed and wowed together – he said fair enough, that’s pretty cool. 

I have watched it over and over and it still makes me feel sick with fear. But I am so happy that guy convinced me to pay for it. I was too stunned to appreciate the moment but now I have a 5 minute documentary of the whole life alteringly awesome thing. With zero hearts made with anyone’s fingers but a lot of awestruck massive smiles.

Thank you so much.