First Skydive
Everything reached a peak on the hot Saturday morning of July 8th, 2000. Even though I had talked to Tim before and felt comfortable with him, today was different. I knew that today would be the day. I was going to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. I thought to myself, "Why?" I did not have an answer.
"If you are here for an exciting, carefree, thrill ride, then go Disneyland. This is a serious sport, and if you screw up, you die." Chills. There was something buried in that statement, though. It was a combination of pride, demand for seriousness and perfection, enthusiasm, and something...yes there was something else there. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. What could that intangible emotion be that was so obviously there, yet so elusive to pinpoint? I thought about that for quite a while throughout the day, and I did not have an answer.
Class proceeded well, but the heat was unbearable. To add to this problem was the fact that the winds were high and the risk of not being able to jump was better than fifty-fifty. Class was out at about 4:30 and we sat around in the intense heat for several hours. By this point, dehydration was starting to take its toll, as a headache set in. I sat there, though. Waiting for the winds to calm. I was not nervous about the winds. I was not nervous about the impending skydive. I was not nervous about the things that could go wrong. Was Tim's instruction that good, was I just insane, or was there something else? Those thoughts bounced around in my head for a while, and I did not have an answer.
About 7:30 that evening, the winds died down. Tim and Randy helped me gear up as we walked through the dive one more time. Randy, the main-side jump master, had a smile and enthusiasm that, though probably not noticeable to anyone else on Earth, struck me as different. Randy has known me for 15 seconds, but it seems our relationship is deeper somehow. How? On the plane ride up I thought about that, and I did not have an answer.
Ten thousand feet arrived after what seemed like a normal climb duration. I still was not nervous. Randy opened the door and gave a few last instructions to the pilot. As we had practiced so many times on the ground, we climbed out of the plane. I confirmed that everyone was ready, which was responded to with a big smile and a big "OK!" It was up to me now. I was hanging on the strut of an airplane. Without hesitation, I gave the signal and the plane flew away without us. We were airborne now. Flying through the sky without aid of anything; freefalling. All the questions of the day went through my mind again, except this time, I knew all the answers.
On July 8th, 2000, I took my first skydive. It was an AFF dive from 10,000+ feet. Freefall was 35-40 seconds. On an AFF dive, two instructors jump with you and help you if they can. Nobody is hooked to you and nobody flies your canopy except for you. The dive truely is your own. Tim Hoose, my reserve side jump master and ground school instructor, thank you.
Mark Thomas
