My First Malfunction

Finally, I got back in the air. Financial, transport and weather factors had all conspired to keep me on the ground for a ridiculous five months, but today I was at the drop zone, and the skies were clear and the winds were low. First order of business was getting me back up to speed so I would be safe in the air. I trained with an instructor for about half an hour, running through procedures and drills. Especially the emergency drills. I hadn't practiced them to this level since my first jump course. I never made a single mistake, reacting to each described emergency quickly and confidently. It's ingrained now, I doubt I'll ever forget it. With my instructor - and more importantly myself - satisfied I just had to wait for my turn. It was getting late and so I decided to do just one jump today to get current then return soon and get in a full day's jumping.

On the flight up I was nervous, more so than I remember being on my last few jumps. This wasn't a huge surprise, I had spent so long on the ground that the jump plane seemed like an alien environment. I was worried about how I'd react to getting in the door, traditionally the scariest part of the skydive, but when my turn came there was no spike of nerves, and they were joined by a rush of excitement. There was no hesitation as I left the plane. My exit was surprisingly reasonable considering how rusty I was. There was some slow forward rotation but as always a couple of seconds into the jump I reminded myself to arch harder and was quickly stable. My plan for the jump was to do very little, just get used to being in the air again, so I completed a couple of turns and then just enjoyed the sensation and the view. My pull altitude was 6000 feet, back up to student height to allow me plenty of time under canopy. As my altimeter indicated it was time I paused for a second. I had wanted to practice a wave-turn-track, simulating the end of a formation jump, but had half forgotten. The moments hesitation was enough to stop me, and I pulled as usual. The parachute jerked me hard, but as I looked up to check it I realised something was wrong. Instead of a nice clean rectangle I had two triangles pointing at each other. One of the lines that connected me to the parachute was looped over the top of the canopy instead of coming straight down. I identified the malfunction at once: a lineover.

A lineover. Not mine - only an idiot would take picture instead of dealing with it. Courtesy of Performance Designs

It wasn't exactly the cheesy situation that time slowed down. It was more that I had a whole conversation worth of thoughts with myself in about half a second.
That's a lineover.
I should chop it.
It's club kit. What if I chop it and I shouldn't have?
I'd like to say that I knew I had a lot of spare altitude and I knew I had a little time to make a decision, but I'm not sure that's true. I do believe I was about to cut the canopy away just before any doubt was removed from my mind. The parachute, which had spent the first half-second of it's flight behaving normally, dove sideways, putting me into a high speed spiral dive. When you turn a parachute, even a big one like I fly, you can get some decent turning force, but it didn't come close to the violence of this spin. I instinctively went through my reserve drill, pulling handles with strong, positive motions, and within a second or so I was detached from the canopy. As quick as that was I had still managed to build up a lot of momentum, and I was sent flying horizontally across the sky. I flailed momentarily before remembering to arch to maximise my chances of a clean reserve deployment. In truth the new parachute was probably already out and for the second time in a matter of moments I was rapidly decelerated. I looked up and was treated to the sight of a perfect canopy. Once I was sure my reserve was good I got into the old instincts and was checking my airspace was clear when I spotted a collapsed, drifting parachute over my right shoulder. I realised it was mine a briefly considered following it down to retrieve it. I decided not to based on my lack of both experience and especially currency. I didn't want to risk a dodgy landing for a main we could find later. I concentrated on flying and landing well, but failed. A combination of adrenaline and lack of current experience meant I misjudged my landing pattern and didn't quite make the right field. I was still within the airport boundaries and my landing spot looked good but I chose to PLF instead of standing up. I touched down well and as I got to my feet experience one of the greatest rushes ever, second maybe only to my first ever jump.

As I arrived back at the manifest I spoke to a lot of jumpers, who had either seen me cut away or noticed my deployed reserve. All of them blamed the lineover on packing error instead of poor body positioning. There was a rush of activity as the staff packers checked to see who had packed the malfunction, and I tried to reassure the guilty party these things happen. After I dumped my kit I sought out the rigger who had packed my reserve, and he got a handshake and the traditional offer of a bottle of his choice for saving my life. Instead he requested a crate of beer for the drop zone, so I went into town and bought one immediately. The banter at the dz was up to it's usual standards, and I jokingly informed the instructor that had cleared me that morning we had done so many reserve drills it seemed a shame not to try them in the air. I was desperate to stay until the last lift was down and enjoy a drink with the others but with the weather so good at 7 they were still going up. I had a long drive home so with regret I headed off.

Looking back I can assess my performance:

• I'm fairly sure it was the packjob and not my flying that caused the malfunction, but I'll do a bit more research.

• I shouldn't have hesitated when deciding to chop. This time I had altitude, next time I might not be do lucky.

• At the end of the day, we practise these drills again and again but until you need to use them in the air you can't be sure how well you'll do. I walked away from a serious malfunction and that's a win in my book. I actually feel more confident knowing I'm capable, and I hope to prove that theory with a good day back at the drop zone next week.