Every Breath You Take — Prachuap Khiri Khan, Thailand | February 1999
“5,000 feet, 4,000 feet… getting ready!”
I’m getting ready for the fourth jump of the 8-Level Accelerated Free Fall Course at Prachuap Khiri Khan’s Wing-5 Airbase in central Thailand. Two days ago we started with a full day of ground-training — which included a session on what to do if we were to land in the shark invested ocean surrounding the airbase — culminating in my first jump, from 21,000 feet, with two instructors holding on tight and opening the chute. Then yesterday we did another two jumps, again with two instructors but this time they gave me a bit more freedom to practice my orientation and let me deploy the pilot chute, the mini parachute which opens the main one. They even let me fly solo for a moment on the third jump.
Now that I’ve proved I know the basics, this fourth jump will be with only one instructor, as will the fifth, and the sixth should be my first solo jump. Before we board the bright yellow Russian Mi8 cargo helicopter we use for this training, the instructor and I go over the new manoeuvres planned for this jump: a direction or heading control exercise and the starting and stopping of turns, which should progress to a full 360° turn the next jump.
After some dry runs on the ground, we climb aboard the helicopter and find our seats amongst the other 20 or so jumpers. As the helicopter gains altitude, I sit still, quietly rehearsing the upcoming jump in my head. When we reach an altitude of around 20,000 feet, a red light switches on and everybody gets up and checks their equipment. Then the light switches to green and the more experienced skydivers leap into the abyss without fear. As soon as they are gone, my instructor and I wobble to the edge of the helicopter cargo bay and stand firm. I feel the wind beating on my back and the strong smell of kerosene is tickling my nose.
“Ready?” my instructor asks.
“Yes.”
“Go!” he shouts and we jump.
I arch, stabilising my position, make eye contact with my instructor and check my altimeter: 18,000 feet. Next I do the heading control exercises we practised on the ground, make eye contact with the instructor and check my altimeter: 13,000 feet. Time for the turns. With the instructor on my right, I start with a turn to the left. I turn about 90° and then turn back, I make eye contact with… He’s not there!
I scan the sky and see that my instructor is flying to the left above me. What do I do? I check my altimeter as I break out into a sweat: 9,000 feet. I look up at my instructor and see he’s smiling and giving me two thumbs up, I must be doing fine.
I continue my free fall — solo — 8,000 feet, 7,000 feet… it’s not so bad falling all alone. 5,000 feet, 4,000 feet… getting ready to open my chute. 3,000 feet, with a swift move of my right arm, balancing my position with my left arm overhead, I deploy the pilot chute. It’s a moment I never look forward to. When the parachute opens I’ll go from terminal velocity to a speed of about 30 kph in a split second. It’s like driving a sports car at full speed against a concrete wall and it will create the feeling of six times my bodyweight pressing on me. The chute deploys.
One-one-thousand, Two-one-thousand, Three-one-thousand… Check canopy! It’s fine, nice and square. Twist? Nope, all the lines are straight, I can relax now.
As I float slowly towards the drop zone, using the steering lines to guide my direction, I see my instructor opening his chute above me. After he’s done his canopy check, he gives me another thumbs up. I check my altimeter: 700 feet, getting ready to land. I make sure I’m turned against the wind and keep my eyes straight ahead. Once I can see individual blades of grass on the drop zone in front of me, I flare by pulling the steering lines down to my crotch and come to a full stop just centimetres above the ground. I hit the ground running and pull down the parachute. As I’m folding it up, my instructor lands and runs towards me. He enthusiastically high-fives and congratulates me at my first solo freefall, two jumps ahead of schedule. I’m a proper skydiver now!
When we get to the Air Force bar tent next to the drop zone, a Thai airman hands me a coconut, its juice mixed with rum, a nice after-jump tradition around here. As I’m sipping my well-earned drink, one of my group members hands me my mobile, there’s a message on it: my sister just had a baby boy, I’m an uncle now; what a jump!
The Police. Every Breath You Take on Synchronicity [LP]. Quebec, Canada: A&M Records (1983)
This autobiographical sketch comes from my bundle In the Moment: A Disjointed Audiobiography which is available at Amazon.com. (USD 9.50 for a paperback or USD 4.50 for the Kindle version)
