Saturday, February 04, 2006
Lost my place
Just where I am in the blog, actually. There is ONE internet terminal in the hotel, and a couple of places down the road, but they are LONG days... The place over the road that offers "coffee and breakfast" opens at 9, which is not much use when you're on a 0640 call...
A danish guy has loaned me his laptop for half an hour. Legend. The keyboard is tough though.
We had a go at a 400 way yesterday. Wound up being a 398 way - oxygen trouble or something on the ramp led to a girl vomiting, and someone (I wonøt mention who, youøll see why) rode the plane down with her.
Before descent, they switched off her Cypres. Then went to switch off his Vigil. He didnøt know how. The rig was passed around the plane until someone who could operate it was found. RTFM dude.
OK, the 398 way. Five hercs in formation. Six minutes out, the tailgates open and you can see daylight again , as well as another Herc trailing. 'king awesome.
Two minutes. We stand, making sure no-one's Oxy hose is wrapped around your deployment system. We've already had one instant canopy at 24000' because of this. And it's a 140 knot exit...
One minute. Heart rate climbs. Although, it must be said, I've managed to be a lot calmer on these jumps than ever before. Last check of handles and pin.
Fifteen seconds. I back towards the ramp - second line of floaters. Being pushed by a row of twenty people, with a Russian brick outhouse behind me. I stow the oxy hose, along with the one from the guy next to me. From here, there WILL be an exit.
There are guys with radios adjacent me on the ramp. I see them listening intently.
A fist in the air.
An open palm.
A chopping motion towards the nose of the Herc.
Hand comes back, and I step into the void.
I present nothing but torso, hands in front of my face for protection, elbows in, feet back, hips forward. Itøs difficult, because of the exit speed, and because youøre offering your private parts to the danger area. Turning my head to the left, I see the base, and engage a track.
The six way chunk funnels,Craig Giraud upside down and 180 degree to line of flight. Crap.
They reform, and put the thing back on heading. We approach. You can almost smell everyoneøs heart rate. Slowly, the six way becomes a twelve way, and the first waves move in.
At about the size of twenty people, more trouble. A swinging grip, a folded flier, and the base disintegrates again. Crap. It drops,relative to the rest of us, and a dozen people bail out, tracking for safety.
I am -exactly- on my radial, right where I should be. My wingman on both sides are gone, as is the link to the base. Girard is going nuts - vocalising on the radio, calling everyone back. I wait.
At 11,000 a calmness descends over me. I believe, I want to believe, that we'll all be here for the break off plan. And so many people agree with me - the dive is a complete clusterf+ck, but so many people are sticking with the plan.
At 7500 - precisely the right height - the first pilot chute appears. People are STILL converging, tryiong to be in the right place for breakoff. That pilot chute appears underneath the formation, and a person takes evasive action, missing liftoff.
Second pilot chute.
Third. Iøm breaking off at the 4th.
One thousand
Two thousand
Three thousand
Four thousand
It doesn't come.
I turn and go...
We donøt actually track on breakoff, more off a delta.
I lead my wave for four seconds, then grab some lift and GO.
Beeps in my right ear indicate 3600
Look, look-wave wave PULL
An on heading opening.
I am precisely where I should be.
So is everyone else.
It's all good. And the Safire puts me down gently on the taxiway once again.
And it IS all good.
L.
A danish guy has loaned me his laptop for half an hour. Legend. The keyboard is tough though.
We had a go at a 400 way yesterday. Wound up being a 398 way - oxygen trouble or something on the ramp led to a girl vomiting, and someone (I wonøt mention who, youøll see why) rode the plane down with her.
Before descent, they switched off her Cypres. Then went to switch off his Vigil. He didnøt know how. The rig was passed around the plane until someone who could operate it was found. RTFM dude.
OK, the 398 way. Five hercs in formation. Six minutes out, the tailgates open and you can see daylight again , as well as another Herc trailing. 'king awesome.
Two minutes. We stand, making sure no-one's Oxy hose is wrapped around your deployment system. We've already had one instant canopy at 24000' because of this. And it's a 140 knot exit...
One minute. Heart rate climbs. Although, it must be said, I've managed to be a lot calmer on these jumps than ever before. Last check of handles and pin.
Fifteen seconds. I back towards the ramp - second line of floaters. Being pushed by a row of twenty people, with a Russian brick outhouse behind me. I stow the oxy hose, along with the one from the guy next to me. From here, there WILL be an exit.
There are guys with radios adjacent me on the ramp. I see them listening intently.
A fist in the air.
An open palm.
A chopping motion towards the nose of the Herc.
Hand comes back, and I step into the void.
I present nothing but torso, hands in front of my face for protection, elbows in, feet back, hips forward. Itøs difficult, because of the exit speed, and because youøre offering your private parts to the danger area. Turning my head to the left, I see the base, and engage a track.
The six way chunk funnels,Craig Giraud upside down and 180 degree to line of flight. Crap.
They reform, and put the thing back on heading. We approach. You can almost smell everyoneøs heart rate. Slowly, the six way becomes a twelve way, and the first waves move in.
At about the size of twenty people, more trouble. A swinging grip, a folded flier, and the base disintegrates again. Crap. It drops,relative to the rest of us, and a dozen people bail out, tracking for safety.
I am -exactly- on my radial, right where I should be. My wingman on both sides are gone, as is the link to the base. Girard is going nuts - vocalising on the radio, calling everyone back. I wait.
At 11,000 a calmness descends over me. I believe, I want to believe, that we'll all be here for the break off plan. And so many people agree with me - the dive is a complete clusterf+ck, but so many people are sticking with the plan.
At 7500 - precisely the right height - the first pilot chute appears. People are STILL converging, tryiong to be in the right place for breakoff. That pilot chute appears underneath the formation, and a person takes evasive action, missing liftoff.
Second pilot chute.
Third. Iøm breaking off at the 4th.
One thousand
Two thousand
Three thousand
Four thousand
It doesn't come.
I turn and go...
We donøt actually track on breakoff, more off a delta.
I lead my wave for four seconds, then grab some lift and GO.
Beeps in my right ear indicate 3600
Look, look-wave wave PULL
An on heading opening.
I am precisely where I should be.
So is everyone else.
It's all good. And the Safire puts me down gently on the taxiway once again.
And it IS all good.
L.
# posted by L. @ 9:38 AM 
