Bill Tomczak

June 24, 2001

I’ve been skydiving twice in my life so far. Hopefully there will be more. At one time I even had the idle fantasy of getting certified to become a skydive photographer. If you ever have the opportunity to try it, don’t hesitate one second. This is by far the coolest thing I have ever done in my life!

I won’t go into why I decided to do this insane thing here. Those who know me know at least some of that part of the story. Suffice to say, I had my reasons. It was just time.

When I started telling some friends about my scheme, I was surprised that several of them said they wanted to do it too. We ended up with eight people going up two at a time in a tiny Cessna 206 on June 24, 2001. It was the first time for all of us. The easiest way to dive right in (so to speak) is to do a tandem jump with your instructor latched to your back. You need to know a few minimal things, but the instructor really does all the work and you get to come along for the ride.

My instructor was an Aussie named Brad and my really good friend Paul-Eric was on the same flight with me. His instructor was called Bubba. You can’t hold much of a conversation in the plane. It’s noisy and there isn’t a proper door. Just a flimsy plastic sheet over “the opening”. So you have about twenty minutes or so to think about ways to back out.

I wasn’t all that nervous until the plane left the ground. You have a big altimeter attached to your wrist, so you know from moment to moment how close you are to doing it. We jumped from an altitude of 8,500-9,000 feet and the closer we came to it, the scarier the ground looked to me. By the time we were almost at altitude I felt like a rat trapped on a sinking ship looking for some other way off. Like how about landing first? The worst moment is that brief instant when

you are hanging outside the plane just before leaving it irretrievably behind. They tell you that you will be sitting on the edge of the plane. They are wrong.

Your instructor, strapped to your back, is the one sitting on the edge of the plane. You’re hanging in mid-air a mile and half above ground. Of course, at that point I’m quite sure such subtleties were pretty much lost on me. It’s damn scary either way. You see, there’s this really primal part of your brain, which has spent millions of years learning some important lessons about life. For example – “run AWAY from the lion”. So here you are – not only effectively running TOWARDS the lion, but sticking your head in it’s mouth and getting ready to bash him over the nose with a baseball bat. This causes the lizard brain to freak out such that it is no longer capable of any functioning whatsoever. It can’t even manage to orchestrate a scream. It stares out from some deep dark place in your psyche – stunned. Lost in profound and complete confusion. You don’t feel panic. You become panic.

I had asked to have a photographer on my jump. As insane as all this is, what the photographer does in the midst of all this is beyond insanity. Note the photo of me hanging outside the plane. Note the angle of the picture. Just before I get into that position, brain already numbed with the immense stupidity of what I’ve somehow gotten myself into (and who’s idea was this anyway?), I watch as the photographer climbs out of the opening in the side of the plane (gaping maw is a term that comes to mind) and comfortably positions himself on the fuselage. As if he’s out for a nice, quiet stroll. Fortunately, this moment of intense terror lasts a fraction of a second. The instructor doesn’t give you time to notice all the nuances of this overwhelming collection of reactions. The next thing you know, you’re tumbling head over ass into nothingness.

Now I had thought this would be the scary part. Oddly enough, it immediately became fabulous. We stabilized in a heartbeat (and remember my heart is beating pretty rapidly at this point) and then — I was flying. It’s the most fantastic and amazing feeling. Not falling. It really does feel like flying. You’re traveling at something like 120mph and even the smallest hand gesture can change your direction and orientation. Lots of wind. Nothing between you and an immense landscape. There’s simply nothing like it. I want to go on and on in an attempt to describe what this feels like, but it really is impossible. You really do have to be there.

Then the chute opens (thanks to Brad, my instructor). Up until this point the whole experience is so overwhelming that my brain is not functioning in any way that I’ve ever experienced before. Once the chute opens, the accumulated reaction to that 30 seconds of free fall suddenly bursts forth in a scream of outrageous, undiluted, passionate joy! After taking a moment to check in with the hind-brain (“What the HELL was THAT about?!”), we now have a leisurely several minutes to play around with the chute controls. Do some spins and loops. Enjoy the scenery with a whole new mind. Try to somehow absorb this experience. Hoot and yell at my friend Paul-Eric who hoots back, obviously as enthralled with this whole experience as I am. He jumped out a few seconds after me, which means he left the plane at 9,000 feet. He had about 3-4 seconds of additional freefall as a result. I find myself jealous of those few seconds! Next we have to locate the landing area and I’m given a little training in chute handling. Brad took over again as we came closer to the ground. I couldn’t believe the softness of the landing we made. I might as well have stepped off an elevator. I didn’t even have to take a single running step to stop my forward motion. Once we all got to have our turn, a bunch of us went over to a local brewpub for a needed beer and some food. We were pretty much right under the area where the next batch of divers were leaving the plane. All we could do was watch wistfully.

When I decided to do this, I had thought of it as a one shot deal. Something that always intrigued me, I figured I would do it this once and get it out of my system. Others in this group felt similarly. Instead, I find I want to go up and do it again. Some of the others had the same reaction. So I’m hoping to set up another group sometime this fall. I don’t know if it’s actually possible, being unfamiliar with the season for this sort of activity, but several of us thought that doing this in New England during the fall foliage season would be really, really, cool. Yeah – I’m definitely going up again, the only question now is – how soon?