My First Parachute Jump

My Parachute Jump

“We would like to throw you out of a plane.” This was the message attached to an email I received a few months ago. The email was from a Dublin based media company, mediacontact.ie and the offer (it was not a threat) was to take part in a parachute jump. Saturday May 30^th was the nominated day, it was months away as I read that email on a dirty winters morning so, not fully realising what I was leaving myself in for, I signed up to jump and paid my deposit.

Like all decisions made in haste, I was left to ponder my enrolment at leisure. As last Saturday approached, I realised that when I signed up I had allowed my sense of adventure to get the better of my sense of judgement. Unfortunately, I had told too many people that I was going to do a parachute jump, so there was no way out – except to jump.

The Irish Parachute club are based in Clonbulloge, near Edenderry, Co. Offaly. They have a perfect set up for their sport. They have a half dozen small aeroplanes, a couple of hangars to store them, a fine club house with changing rooms and a restaurant and a lush green field which acts as a landing strip. This strip, as I was to see later from 10,000 feet, is like a oasis in the middle of the Bog of Allen.

The weekends are very busy at the Parachute Club. Most of my group were coming from Dublin by bus. I was told they would be there by 8am and that I should be there too. When I arrived at 7.45am the place was already buzzing with activity. The aeroplanes were being wheeled out. They did not look much bigger than an Airfix model and they were pushed from the hangar by three men with such ease that they didn’t inspire much confidence.

After registration and breakfast, – by now I didn’t feel like eating much – we were brought to a room for more form filling and induction training. The training was brief and to the point. We were told that each of us would be assigned a “tandem master”. He was our partner in the jump. We would be strapped on to him and he was in charge of the jump and he was trained to deal with every sort of emergency that may occur.

“That’s good to know,” I thought to myself “but nobody ever said anything about emergencies” .Up to now I had kept thinking about what it would be like when the door of the plane opened and the air rushed in. Now my thoughts were about, “you mean the parachute mightn’t open? Or the tandem master might get a heart attack!” My bravado was fading fast.

Speaking of fast; the instructor told us that when we left the plane at 10,000 ft, we would free fall at a speed of approximately 115 miles per hour for 20 to 25 seconds. He paused and then added “or a minute, if it all goes wrong” There was  nervous laughter around the room. After that we hung on his every word.

By 9am we were ready to go. An announcement over the tannoy system told us how events would proceed. There were lots of people there to jump, not just our group of 50. The club had put everybody on a list and we would be called in groups of four or five in turn. It would take several hours to get through everybody, there was plenty of food and coffee available and as the day was fine they hoped to get through the list reasonably quickly.

The first group to be called were a group of experienced jumper. All the beginners watched with intense interest as they climbed into the two planes. There was a good deal of chat and banter amongst us about what it must be like. All eyes followed the planes down the strip as they took off. Then the planes started to circle around the airfield as they gained altitude. All eyes remained glued to the planes as the circle got bigger and the planes grew small and smaller. Eventually they were up so high and the sun was so bright that it was hard to see them; only the hum of the engines reassured us that they were still up there.

“There they are” someone said and we all gazed in the direction of her pointed finger. Then someone said “They’re out”. It was hard to see at first, but then we spotted some  tiny black dots falling to earth like stones. There was a collective gasp and a prayer fell from the lips of 50 or so first timers who were gazing up in a scene that resembled the Apostles on Ascension Thursday; “Oh Jesus!”  Next the ‘chutes opened and the sky was  full of multi-coloured canvases that were slowly gliding towards us. Our focus turned to watching them land: A parachute jump isn’t over ’til the landing’s done, we didn’t need an instructor to tell us that. Each one landed safely and gently in the field in front of us. Incredible as it may seem, both planes were back on the ground before most of the jumpers.

The next two hours were all about waiting. There were planes taking off and landing every 10 minutes. We got used to this and even read the paper, or a book, rather than take an interest in what was going on. Our attitude changed when the first of our group were called. We wished them luck and watched as they walked toward the hangar with all the enthusiasm of prisoners being called from death row. Between final preparations, take-off and jump it would be 40 minutes before we would see them again – we hoped! They came back alright; exhilarated, but a little shaken.

My name was called at about 11.30am. I heard it with mixed emotions. A man with a thick Offaly accent and a clipboard met me at the door of the office. “Who are you?” he asked. “Diarmuid” I replied. He pointed to the back of the hangar. “Go down there and get dressed, your tandem master is JJ, you need to be ready in 10 minutes”. Then he moved on. That was it, here I was about to put my life in the hands of “JJ” and jump out of a plane. He didn’t even say ‘are you alright’; he could be one of the last people I ever spoke to and the thrust of the conversation was ‘you’re next, hurry up’.

As it turned out JJ was brilliant. He is French and has been jumping for 19 years. I was dressed in a yellow jumpsuit and looked like a prisoner who escaped from Guantamino Bay. JJ strapped me into a harness and went over all the instructions again. Then my three companions and I were led on to the airstrip by our tandem masters.

It was raining parachute jumpers. The previous jump had been a group of 20 who made a diamond like formation in the sky before the opened their chutes.

There were 10 of us crammed into the tiny plane. It was noisy but apart from that the take-off was just like any other flight I have been on. At 5000ft JJ went through everything again. He tightened the harness again and made sure I was securely fastened to him. My stomach was churning, I cannot remember the last time I had such a dose of the butterflies. JJ, who was sitting behind me, told me to relax and take a few deep breaths.

Just as the planes had become a dot to us on the ground earlier, the airstrip was now a little green patch in acres of brown bog. Someone said “its time” and the airplane door opened. JJ and I were the third pair to go. We slid to the open door. My instructions were not to do anything, just sit out there until JJ was ready to push us out of the plane. I wanted to get sick. JJ pushed and we began to fall. “I’m f**ked now (excuse the language but that’s how you think when you’re falling from 10,000ft), there’s no way back”.

The noise of the wind was incredible, my ears popped, and I had no idea weather JJ was behind me or not. Then he tapped me on the shoulder to tell me to stretch out my hands and all of sudden, even though I was falling at 100mph, I felt like I had some control over things. I started to look around me and the view was amazing. Even if the parachute doesn’t open, I thought to myself, at least my last sight will be Ireland on a fine day.

There was a loud bang when JJ pulled the cord to open the parachute. All of a sudden we were not falling anymore; just floating gently. The violent noise of the wind during the drop had gone, there was silence. I realised later that part of the reason for the silence was that I was practically deaf after my ears popped.

JJ gave me the ropes which control the parachute. When I tugged the left one, we went left, when I tugged the right we went right. When I kept it pulled down we went into a spiral, release it and we glided again. I could see the other jumpers and the plane landing below me. We seemed to glide forever. It was brilliant.

I handed the reigns back to JJ as we prepared for landing. All I had to do was lift my legs and let him do the landing. He did it perfectly; there’s many an aeroplane pilot could learn from him.

It was only then that I realised how nervous I had been. Now, back on terra firma, the tension was gone and I was left with the feeling I usually have whenever I get on the chair-o-planes at the merries. I wanted to get sick. We brought the parachute back to the hangar where JJ gave me a very welcome glass of water. That settled me and I could now begin to enjoy what I had experienced.

I still cannot say why I did the parachute jump. Would I do it again? Most definitely yes, and the next time I reckon I could knock even more enjoyment from it. I learned a lot from the experience. Preparation is everything. If you want to take a 10,000ft jump either literally or metaphorically, make sure you pack your parachute well. Jumping is easy, landing is the tricky part.