Sunday 30 October 2011

Packtice makes Perfect

I'm sitting on my sofa, shattered. I've just run my first half-marathon in 3 years. Monika is curled up next to me. She's just run her first half-marathon ever. I'm dead proud of her. It's been a good weekend, even if I haven't got any jumps in.

Yesterday I packed my parachute completely for the first time. Packing is basically the art of getting a parachute into a bag that any normal person can tell is obviously too small for it.

Glorious, but terrifying
The first thing I learnt, after unpacking my parachute, admiring it in all its glory and setting it up as if I'd just got back to the manifest (daisy-chaining the lines, stowing the breaks), is that my flat is nowhere near big enough to pack in. A quick rearranging of the furniture helped, but I still had to run the lines down to the container in the hallway.

The second thing I learnt is that I find the idea of packing pretty scary. They say all parachutes want to be open, but the doesn't help when you've got hundreds of square feet of nylon piled up in front of you. My little brother got me a packing guide video for my birthday, so I manned up and started.

It started really well. I've had a couple of packing lessons at the drop zone, and the first steps were pretty easy. I had the lines sorted quickly.

However, after this I had to start counting and sorting the cells and this was difficult. Eventually I had it basically right, so I tried to fold it to get the four sets of lines on top of each other. This did not go well. After a couple of false starts I had everything in basically the right place, but instead of neat groups my lines were in a mess of spaghetti.

This clearly WILL NOT GO
Next I had to fold the canopy to get it to a size that would go into the deployment-bag. This will go down as one of the most frustrating events of my entire life. The false starts we numerous and infuriating. What little order existed in the way the cells had been laid out disappeared completely. The video said not to stuff the canopy into the d-bag but I couldn't see any other way. Eventually, on about the eighth attempt, I got the damn thing in, though it was overflowing through all the gaps and looked pretty dangerous, and I was drenched with sweat and in a generally bad mood.

To finish off I brought in the lines and stowed the d-bag in the container, closing it with a proper pull-up cord instead of a shoelace. I've done this before a couple of times so found it easier.

The whole process took me over an hour and a half. A professional packer can be done in less than 6 minutes. At the moment the £5 for a pack-job seems like the most economical choice I can ever make, but I need to get good at this and it was my first unsupervised attempt. I'll take it to the drop zone and get some advice on the best techniques (every parachute is different).

Am I pleased I've done it?

Yes

Would I jump that pack job?

Not a damn chance.
Victory

Sunday 23 October 2011

Year Two - Looking forward

Despite how it may appear, I have thought about how I want my skydiving to progress. There is a grand plan, though admittedly it's subject to change as I discover more about the sport. For now I'm just going to focus on the next year, so in 12 months time I can look back and see how far off I was.

Most instantly, my B licence. I need 50 jumps, as well as the ability to pack, spot, land accurately and do pre-jump inspections of gear. This shouldn't be a problem. Usually a B licence is accompanied by Formation Skydiving 1, which signs you off to do formation work in free fall, but this doesn't hold much interest for me. I'll see how my budget holds up.

I want to be jumping my own rig as soon as possible.

I want to get good at tracking, and start participating in tracking dives with other jumpers.
If things go really well I'd like to own and be flying a Phoenix Fly Tracking Suit. This is a special jumpsuit that channels the air to increase your tracking speed and reduce your fall-rate. The manufacturers recommend at least 80 jumps experience.

Finally, I think if I can get 75 jumps in this year it'll be a good one.

Not me - not yet.

Sunday 16 October 2011

All play and no work makes James a dull skydiver

#28 15/10/2011

I finally got myself back to the drop zone yesterday. My plan was to practice tracking (moving horizontally across the ground) in free fall then get the understanding of the new size canopy I had missed out on last time. The drop zone was busy, and it took me longer to get on a lift than usual, but the skies were completely clear and there was a low, steady breeze. Conditions were perfect.

Our lift was well organised. I was the last fun-jumper out, because you fall slower when tracking and I was pulling higher to play with the canopy. The jumper before me was also doing a solo track, so we assigned headings perpendicular to the jump run (the direction the plane flies as we're getting out) so we'd avoid each other and the other groups. I was flying at about 80°, I'd orientate myself off the runway.

I was confident about doing all this, except for my exit. I so wanted to get it right on this rare opportunity to practice. I took my time in the door, visualised my body positioning, and went. Immediately I was unstable, flipping onto my back. All I could think was Arch, arch, arch, but it took an eternity (probably 3-4 seconds) for my body to correctly interpret the command. I don't know why, and that's frustrating.

The track itself went well. I could feel the air resisting my forward movement as I barrelled across the sky at maybe 40 miles an hour. A good tracker can double that but practice makes perfect. Just before I went into a track I looked down and could just about see the other jumper whizzing off in the other direction. I did a long track out then turned 180° and did a short track back so I wasn't too far from the landing zone, and pulled. This time I was in an ideal position so I started to play with the canopy. Damn, that thing can move! It probably didn't look like much compared to the high-number jumpers, but hard turns felt vicious, like I was penduluming up to 90° and swooping round. It was great fun.

My landing pattern was good, but as I came in to land I flared slightly late. I was carrying more speed than I should have, and made the instantaneous, sub-conscious decision to land on my arse, sliding along. This was fun too, but not good for mastering the canopy.

Afterwards I found myself frustrated with the jump. The two most important parts - the exit and landing - were wasted. I decided to write off the day, go home and come up with a plan. At the start of next month I have a sizeable overtime payment coming. I'm going to take a day off and head to the drop zone midweek, when it will be less busy. I'll try and get in 3 or 4 jumps, possibly low-altitude, low-effort hop-and-pops, and practice exits and landings. Hopefully I'll make some progress.

Tuesday 11 October 2011

Year One - Looking back

The first year of my fantastic new adventure (that was unnecessarily dramatic) has drawn to a close in a disappointingly irrelevant yet still notable way (I'm in a dramatic mood apparently). Now seems like a good time to take stock of what I've accomplished in the last 12 months.

Firstly, and most obviously, I've discovered this sport, this magical sport with a guaranteed a rush every time I go. Every skydive is a more exhilarating experience than a lot of people will ever know, no matter what your plan is and how well you follow it. And I know I'm only just beginning.

A more measurable achievement is the attaining of my 'A' licence. It may be the lowest rung on a complex and difficult ladder, but gives me freedom to travel to other drop zones, and is proof that I'm not just doing this for the bragging rights (though I am a bit), but that I'm actually capable and could one day be good. The way I earned it is a source of pride, showing both talent and commitment. The Accelerated Free Fall course is intense and instructors wont think twice about making students repeat levels if they're not up to scratch. Only one failed jump is a genuinely impressive record.
Starting jumping in October was, in hindsight, an impulsive and foolish idea that neatly sums up my mindset at the time. AFF is best done quickly, and the winter weather made this impossible. I spent many days staring at clouded skies, wasting time and doing 140 mile round trips for nothing. It would have been easy give up. I know if I had convinced myself I'd wait until spring I would have never gone back.

The time wasted at the drop zone needn't have been. I could have learnt to pack last winter, but in fairly typical style I put off the hard graft to focus on the fun bit.

I certainly haven't jumped enough. 27 in a year is barely scratching the surface, and I'm fed up of arriving at the drop zone worried about my currency. I'm taking consolation in the fact that the first year is way more expensive than the rest, with training cost and gear rentals, and I couldn't sensibly justify any more. I'm just worried as I get older and more sensible that my money will disappear in other ways, but I'm happy with skydiving being a big part of my life instead of the whole thing.

Finally, the purchase of my rig is a sign of my commitment, and gives me contradictory hope that next year will be different, with jumps by the hundreds and new talents learnt.

Friday 7 October 2011

Unhappy anniversary

One year ago today I made my first ever jump. On the way up I was more scared than I had ever been before, seriously questioning whether I was even going to jump. Even in the open door, looking down at the ground so far below I still hadn't made my decision. However, we practice the exit routine on the ground and though I thought I was going to decide at the time once I had checked in with my instructors I just followed the process. Before I knew it I was in freefall. I don't even remember the first few seconds of the jump, as a phenomenon known as "sensory overload" took over fairly heavily. It's the only time it's ever got me even slightly, but I may as well have been unconscious. Once I got over it I started to enjoy myself, and as the rest of the jump went better and better I started falling in love. The second my feet touched the ground I knew I was hooked.

Today, to celebrate this anniversary, I planned to take the day off work and head to the drop zone. Hopefully I could get a couple of jumps, but if the weather was bad I could learn how to pack my new parachute properly from one of the instructors. However, events have conspired against me.

Now, I'm not a doctor but...
While I was out running a minor slip and small, painless collision left my finger rather spectacularly dislocated. A quick attempt to sort it myself resulted in a huge amount of pain, no movement from the offending digit and the conclusion that professional medical assistance was required. The NHS did themselves proud and I finished my evening with a reset finger and a prolonged high from the nitrous oxide.

It's already been re-examined and had the splint and bandages removed, so I'm making good progress but jumping is off the agenda for this weekend at least. It's on my left hand and if I found myself needing to use my reserve handle for any reason I imagine I probably could, but I'd rather wait until I'm fully fit. The sky will still be there next week. At least now I have an answer next time someone says i could hurt myself skydiving...