Sunday 18 December 2011

Cold, Blind, and Alone in the Void

#29 - 18/12/11

After two months I was very pleased to be back in the plane. I was even pleased to be crushed in on a full load, considering the temperature outside. Rather fittingly, after my last entry, it was a toasty minus 15 degrees at altitude. We chatted about it as we were gearing up. I have a custom fitted jumpsuit that I can only really fit a thin jumper underneath. Looking at the other jumpers with multiple layers on, I wasn't convinced it would be enough.

I was given a false sense of security when the door was opened at 3000' to let a static-line student out and it didn't seem that bad. When the door opened up on the jump run that illusion was sucked out of the plane just before the first skydiver. I should have worn another jumper.

I barely even noticed. The adrenaline was rushing as always, rising to new levels with each "whoosh" that accompanied a group of jumpers leaving. I watched the guy before me go and got into the door, counting to seven. As soon as the spacing was adequate, without a moment's hesitation, I went.

I had been thinking about my exit for most of the ride up. It was, well, better. I still tipped over as I got into the airsteam, but my arch was good and I righted myself quickly. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself until I tried to check my altimeter and found I couldn't see.

I'm being dramatic. Things were a bit blurry, but I could see I was at about 11000'. My goggles always steam up on the plane, where the air is close and humid, but have always cleared as I've got in the door.

Until now.

If you've ever stuck your head out of a car window whilst doing 120mph you'll understand why we wear goggles. I didn't want to take them off, so I just lifted them a little bit away from my face. They cleared enough for me to see, and I was able to work out where I was. Then I noticed the cold. Damn it was cold. I've said I've never noticed the temperature in free fall, and that was true. Hopefully it means I'm taking control, no longer just some awe-struck novice.

I pulled at 5000'. The opening was beautiful: gentle and on-heading. I was over the landing zone, so had a bit of a play with the canopy before turning it into the wind and getting ready to fly my pattern. Unfortunately the winds were horrendous, and I started moving backwards. Learning from the last time, I pulled down on the front risers. The canopy dove into the wind and my reverse speed slowed considerably. I was still being blown over the edge of the landing zone, so I had to make a decision as to where I was going to touch down. I guessed I would start making forward progress as I got lower and the winds died, so kept aiming for the landing field.

I was right. I touched down safely away from the field's boundary. One positive for the high winds was the landing - as I flared my canopy it cancelled out the wind and I literally dropped onto my feet in a perfect stand up landing.

Pleased with the jump but with totally numb hands I decided to call it a day. I had planned on hammering out a set of jumps to practice exits and landings, but the winds were too high for me to play much with the canopy and the cold took the edge of the ecstasy of free fall. So with my wallet bulging under the weight of lift tickets I said my goodbyes and headed home.

Tuesday 6 December 2011

Frozen Air

I don't mind winter. I wouldn't say I was particularly optimistic, but the thing that awful weather makes me think of is the warmth I'll feel when I get in. Ice on the pavement is just an opportunity for a childish slide. The one issue I do have, however, is the cloud.

Five days, I took off last month to burn away holiday. Five days, and not a single jump. Every day my alarm would go off early, I'd look out the window and then roll over and go back to sleep. One day I went to the drop zone anyway, looking for some clear sky I knew wouldn't be there. It's extremely frustrating.

I had the same problem last year. I still managed to get a few jumps in, and I'm sure I will this year. And that's a good thing, because winter jumps are fantastic.

As you may know, air gets colder as you gain altitude. Depending on the conditions, at 12,000' it can be more than 20 degrees Celsius colder than on the ground. At Headcorn they have a board by the manifest that tells you the wind strength and direction at altitude, which is useful for working out how you'll drift as you fall, and the temperature, which is useful for scaring Tandems. The coldest I've ever stepped out into is -22 degrees C (-8F). You add wind chill of 120mph to that and it's cold.

You don't notice it at that height. You're cold on the plane, but when you get out the temperature is the last thing on your mind. There's always the rush of free fall, and usually work to do, but on the clearest winter days the view is phenomenal. On a crisp winter day in January you can easily trace the east coast. On one particularly spectacular jump I could see France, then turning 180 degrees, London. And all unobscured by airliner glass, or mountain mist.
An estimated field of view at altitude
Unfortunately it has to end. As you drop your field of view closes in, then you pull your parachute. I think I enjoy the canopy ride more than most jumpers, and the air is warmer when you're lower, but you definitely notice the cold. Even gloved fingers go numb, and you can't wait to get on the ground. But maybe that's just because you have to get on the ground before you can go back up for another view...