Sep
I was in this small plane. The pilot was the only one seated. I was sitting on the floor with 3 other people. Rather cramped. Yes. I had my back to the controls of the plane and I was looking outside the window. The earth was slowly becoming the sky. In front of me was my tandem master, Ivan, who would show me his altimeter watch every now and then.
3000 feet. I was taking in the beauty of Manitoba’s prairie landscape. The pilot tabbed my shoulder and gave me a thumbs up. His way of asking if I was doing alright. Thumbs up back. I was perfectly alright.
4000 feet. The changing pressure was making my ears pop. And I was managing it with the “breathing out of ear” trick I learnt from a lady I was traveling with once. 
6000 feet. The small plane was soaring higher and higher. It felt like riding a richshaw in the skies.
Just as we neared 9000 feet, Ivan signaled me to turn around. He strapped me tight to his own equipment. I was so looking forward to the moment of the jump. I had no idea what to expect.
Ivan reminded me, in his cute French accent that I thankfully got used to before the important instructions came, of what to do when the door is opened. I still wasn’t aware that I didn’t know what to expect.
9000 feet. The plane’s door opened and I could feel the wind gushing against my face. And down below… far, far, so far below… the earth… This was the moment I had been waiting for and the first thought was, “Wow. How can I convince myself to jump?”
This definitely is the scariest part.
It’s a philosophical moment too though. You feel separate from your body. You have this will to jump but you have to convince yourself to do it as your body is in the flight mode.
Following the instructions, I moved towards the door and sat there at the edge of the plane with my legs outside… dangling 9000 feet above for about 3 seconds. About 3 seconds I spent in my philosophical moment… and then Ivan rocked his body a third time… a signal that here we go.
And there we went … free falling and all I could utter was a “woohoo”, which lasted as long as the free fall. For about 30 seconds. A strange feeling that words fail to describe. The sky. The earth. The atmosphere. In the middle of the moment, Ivan tabbed my shoulder signaling it was time to spread the arms. I did and I still didn’t find skydiving to be similar to flying. But it’s amazing nonetheless!
Once the parachute opens, it’s different altogether. You feel like a feather in the air, swaying down to earth. The beautiful prairie landscape beneath is a sight to see. Oddly, it felt like a model I had seen at the ForstWhyte museum. I felt I was just looking at that model in the museum, except with a floating feeling.
Ivan gave me the controls encouraging me to take over and steer the parachute. I didn’t want to mess up the landing but I trusted Ivan’s judgment hoping he would take the controls back before I cause an irreversible mess and get us landing elsewhere (Too late for a Saskatchewan landing though) – but Ivan did take over in time (I got two minutes or so of steering) and we had a very smooth landing.
A beautiful end to an absolutely awesome experience!
By the way, I have no sense of height and rather a bad sense of depth perception. Perhaps this is the reason why I would like to skydive again sometime with a longer free fall moment.
And I’d like to thank, from the depth of my heart, Erum. She found the groupon sale on skydiving and so eagerly joined me in this endeavor. Thanks to her husband, for driving us to Steinbach, just outside Winnipeg. He dived as well and we all had a lot of fun.
I also thank Ivan for being such a cool tandem master. And the rest of the staff of Adventure Skydiving for their friendly service!
Also, the image used above is taken from petrmara’s flickr set.
