Vintage BASE Jumping Stories . . .

[base915 0]

It's not vintage and nothing super spectacular happened but it's the story of one of my most favourite jumps so far.

Me 'n Kiwi Bennie, are halfway through a two week European BASE trip. Driven my van from home in Empuria’ to the Swiss valley via the big gorge in SE France and the big wall in the French alps. I scared the poo out of myself, and Bennie, with a 3 sec canopy ride in the gorge and we’re both on cloud nine after some spectacular jumps in stunning locations, but the best is yet to come.

Sitting in the Horner drinking beer and trying to chat to the Danish barmaids (getting no where by the way) listening to the ‘no shit there I was’ stories from the other jumpers, a nice place to be…

A couple of Dutch guys and a dodgy South African ;) mention that they are going to try to jump the well-known fungus the next morning so I ask if we could tag along. I don’t think they were too keen to start with but after a couple of beers they agreed.

On the 7 o’clock train to the glacier station we got the first glimpse of the wall, the weather was perfect

- Bollock$, run out of time to finish the story, can’t write for $hit anyway so I’ll show you the piccies instead:

Mike

[JaapSuter 0]

At Kevin's request, here is my essay. Blame him if you feel I'm polluting the boards. My apologies to Nick for hijacking his vintage story thread with such a fresh story.

While this story happened exactly as written, I cannot confirm that it was me who this happened to.

I decided to write it in second person perspective. Can you tell I'm a Chuck Palahniuk fan? Too bad I'm a shitty writer. Credit to those who actually read it to the end. Go play outside!

---

Bingo Twistle, Seven Q's Bongo and the plan in between...

You are at the airport in a city you've never been before. Your plane landed twenty minutes ago for what is supposed to be a five day business trip. Unknown to your co-workers, your suitcase contains more than fresh undies, some clothes and a toothbrush. Your helmet, body armour and kneepads barely fit in. Earlier, the airport security officer asked you about the contents of your carry-on luggage. The sweat crept up your back, but he allowed you to pass after you whispered something about a parachute and skydiving. A thorough inspection could easily have ruined everything.

The plan had been formulated four days earlier. Weeks of discussion had transformed a mission impossible into a scheme so brilliant that only the best would understand. On Zipday we flooz the bingo twistle. Then rest maybe grap dingo chomp chomp. Xanadu, flipmode squash on seven Q's bongo.

Your colleagues are getting in a taxi to go to the hotel. You tell them you're having lunch with a friend first and will catch up later. One phone-call to your accomplice and minutes later you are picked up from the airport. Cursing the traffic, you look out over the vast city landscape. In the distance you see a crane. You ask your friend how high he thinks it is. He says you can find out yourself. The crane is in the neighbourhood of your hotel. The plan hasn't started and already you are thinking of ways to accomodate this new potential.

Four hours and a lunch later, you finally make your way through city traffic and approach the hotel. The crane is no longer on your mind when suddenly you turn around a corner and it is right there, in your face. You put your nose against the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the beam. Your head swivels in all directions looking for potential landing areas and getaways. Suddenly you lunge forward into your seatbelt as the car screams to a halt. "We're here", your friend says, "this is your hotel."

Dumbstruck, you can't believe that the first object you spot in this city turns out to be only two hundred yards from the hotel you are staying in. Blaming fate, you decide that the plan will have to make room. The car is parked and the two of you walk over to the object to laser it and scout for landing areas. The tip of the beam hangs right over a busy six lane street. Counting the number of stories in the building, you estimated it static-linable. Now you're looking through the range-finder and can't believe the magic number written on the LCD display. It's your hard deck; your limit; the height at which you start thinking about turning that static-line or PCA jump into the definition of base jumping. You can go and throw.

Fast forward two days. Part of the plan has been accomplished and the letter B is now officially yours. Unfortunately, your partner in crime pulled a muscle on this jump and he decides to rest for a few days. Meanwhile you spent some time with colleagues satisfying the business trip's intended purpose. Coming back, you walk into your hotel room and the stash-bag catches your eye. You dump its contents onto the floor and start looking around the room. There is barely room for line stretch, but you decide it's not an obstacle, it's a challenge. Fifty minutes later your old personal record for packing in tight places is shattered and you put the rig into the stash-bag.

Your friend is too sore to jump but he generously offers to ground-crew. There is no wind, the street seems quiet enough at night and the crane is oriented exactly right. The plan quickly emerges during a delicious sushi dinner, and you decide that next time you're in this city, the crane will be gone. Now, or never.

Just ten minutes after midnight, a car stops at the back of the building site. The door opens and a dark figure carrying a bag appears. He makes his way towards the fence while the car drives around the corner. Quickly but silent the figure hops over the fence and dashes towards the shadows. Nobody had a chance to see him, and city life continues as if nothing happened.

Hiding behind some piles of brick, you take your helmet out of your stashbag and put it on. Next, you grab your cellphone and call groundcrew. He's only a block away, and yet this phone-call is routed from one country to another and back, making for a very expensive long distance call. You stick your cellphone in between your head and helmet where it allows you to talk with both hands free. Try that with a radio. One of these days you will buy a proper headset, you promise yourself.

If people would have any interest in building sites and cranes, they could notice a person climbing up the ladders. The bottom hundred feet of the crane are basked in a sea of light. Big halogen lights brighten that side of the building, and the climber seems to make haste to get into the darker section as quickly as possible. Fortunately for him, people prefer staring at the ground, avoiding contact with other people as much as possible.

Closer to the top of the crane, you start worrying about the cabin. It is blocking the entrance to the beam and unless the hatch is open, you have to climb around it on the outside of the crane. You'd be wearing your rig in case you fall, but an unstable exit that close to the building won't ever classify as a forgiving jump. You give the hadge a little nudge and it seems to move. Pushing harder, the hatch opens up and you sneak your way into the cabin. Shielded from the outside world this is a great place to gear up. Almost ready for the final stretch, you take a break to suck in the view. Overlooking a city you have never been to before, three hundred feet above the ground in the middle of the night, it feels familar. A thousand miles away, you suddenly feel at home.

What you are definitely not familiar with is the beam of this crane. As you climb through the second hatch on top of the cabin, you see your worst nightmare come true. What you had already suspected from the ground becomes a reality when you are frantically trying to find some sort of catwalk. Instead, all you see is a thin rail that allows a platform to wheel out to the end. Unable to use this platform now, you are going to have to climb along the rail itself. This means side-stepping on the outside of the beam, holding on to metal structures too thick for your hand to fully wrap around.

You remind yourself that this would be a breeze if it were only three feet of the ground. You remind yourself that you should always keep three points of contact, and only move one limb at a time. You remind yourself not to look down, but then realize you thrive on staring into the gaping void that lies underneath any exit point. Suddenly cheerful, you share this information with your groundcrew and ask him not to disturb you for the next ten minutes. This requires total focus.

Imagine a couple, walking hand in hand along the boulevard. They are on their way home from a visit to the theatre, enjoying the warm summer night. He would rather take a taxi, but she insists that the full moon night is too romantic to pass up on. They just bought a house and they expect their first child in a few months. Every friday he plays tennis with his boss and she is trying to decide what color to paint the baby room. Nothing can possibly disturb this beautiful night. They're talking about their hopes and future. She reflects on the meaning of life and the infinity of the universe, and both of them look up towards the stars.

Seeing the man make his way towards the end of the beam, their first thought is this has to be a suicidal maniac. Looking more carefully, they notice he is wearing a helmet as well as some sort of funny backpack. It doesn't take long to register. On a recent trip to Australia, they had seen an episode of Sixty Minutes about base jumpers. This must be one of them. Now a witness to such an experience, the meaning of their life seems more complicated than ever. What motivates a person to climb along the beam of a crane in the middle of the night? Is gravity so rewarding that it transcends the risk and effort?

Something in the women starts protesting. The man feels it too. Every cell in their bodies panicks wildly, telling them how troubled this jumper must be. This stunt resists everything the couple believes in, and they decide they want no part in it. The imaginary couple walks on into the night.

Meanwhile, in a world that consists of only two hands, two feet, a metal structure and a three hundred feet gap, you feel more alone than ever. Oblivious to the people walking underneath, you make your way towards the end of the beam. Arriving there, you find yourself on a small platform no more than two feet squared. You get in touch with your groundcrew and explain to him you are about to do final gear checks.

You reach back to check your bridle and velcro and notice your right flap feels weird. You realize that your overzealous desire to prime your velcro has come to haunt you at the worst possible time. Standing on the tiniest of platforms with hardly any railing, you now have to take off your rig to close the right flap.

Five minutes later you put the rig on for the second time that day. You take out the pilotchute and route your bridle along the velcro on your shoulder. Meanwhile, your groundcrew tells you he has put the tailgate of his truck down. After your canopy opens, he will pull out into the street, blocking the lane you land in. You will then jump onto the back of his truck and drive off.

Behind you, the street makes a turn into the distance. Just as a car comes into view, you start counting. No more than 23 seconds later the car is exactly underneath you. As long as no new car appears on the street when the last one drives underneath, you'll have a 23 second gap to jump, fly and land.

Your groundcrew, friend, accomplice and partner in crime tells you to have a good one. You tell him that you have no regrets and that you'll see him in a few minutes. You then hang up the phone, take it from between your ear and the helmet and put it in your pocket. Your toes move to the edge of the platform as you keep looking over your shoulder to find a gap in between traffic. You pass up on several promising opportunities. Every time you're just about to go headlights appear in the distance, ruining your chance to jump. Fifteen minutes pass and you are wondering if your groundcrew may think something is wrong. Then suddenly you notice the white van driving underneath you. You look back over your shoulder and see that no other car has appeared yet. Is this it? No time to think! One last glance around to see if there is traffic anywhere, and then a countdown.

3.. 2.. 1.. CYA!

You leap off the edge with your eyes on the horizon. A nice stable exit and less than a count later you pitch your pilotchute. Your hands start reaching up in anticipation for the risers while your head moves down to give your eyes a peek at the asphalt below you. As groundrush starts settling in, you hear the comfortable sound of velcro ripping apart. A split second later you find yourself under a perfectly flying canopy, on heading. In front of you an empty road ready to be landed in. Behind you, momentarily blinded by the headlights, you recognize the truck of your friend.

You flare and run out the landing, quickly trying to pull the canopy down to the ground. You bundle it up as the truck pulls up besides you. You throw the canopy in the back of the truck and jump on. Just as you duck for cover, you notice the car in the corner of your eyes; police!

Yelling to your friend that he should get the hell out of here, you look over your shoulder to see the police car turn around in pursuit. The world around you dissapears as images of arrests and jail start exploding in your head. Is this still a game? Is this still worth it? Will this be the last jump with this gear? What about the business trip? Hell, what about ever setting foot in this country again?

"Run into the hotel!" your friend screams, bringing you back to your senses. Suddenly jerked back into reality, you notice you are in front of the hotel lobby. You quickly jump out and make a run towards the door.

The hotel lobby personnel is having a night like any other. Some chit chat with guests, helping people with their luggage, and the occasional valet parking. It's not busy tonight so some of them sit down in the lounge enjoying a coffee. Seeing the door thrown open violently and the madman appear is the last thing they expect. "Press fourteen! Press fourteen!" the man screams as he dashes towards the elevator. The man is wearing a full face helmet and carries what seems to be a parachute. Too shocked to do anything, the lobby personnel asks: "Did you just jump off a building?" Just before the elevator doors slide shut, the man confirmes: "Yeah, and don't worry; I'm a guest here."

Breathing heavily, you understand that going to the fourteenth floor is no longer an option. You just told them you'd go there. Randomly, you pick seventeen and consider your options. Your own room is on fourteen and staying in the hallway is too dangerous. There is only one other room you have access too. Your company reserved an extra room on the seventh floor, meant to be used for after hours lounging. You know it contains a fridge with beer and you hope that your colleagues are already in their own rooms, sleeping. Coming out of the elevator, you make your way to the stairwell and run down ten floors towards room 704.

You put the key into the reader and open the door. You walk in and you hear the familiar sound of a gramophone needle screeching over a vinyl record. Two seconds ago, at least twenty people were talking loudly, playing poker, watching television, drinking beers. Now, everybody in the room is completely silent and staring at the door. No wait, at you. Apparently, not everybody had gone to bed yet.

The first words uttered from a stammering co-worker: "Are you being chased?" You have now taken off your helmet and the look on your face explains the story better than any words can. "Yeah, sort off," you shrug as you throw down your gear and make your way towards the fridge. As you crack open a beer, questions start pouring in. You try to answer, but all you can think of is your friend who, by now, must be hand-cuffed and legs spread over the hood of his truck, getting padded by a police officer.

Minutes later, somebody knocks on the door. Your heart skips several beats as you push your gear out of sight and hide around the corner. A colleague opens up and hears a man ask a question. Recognizing your friend's voice, you turn around the corner. You're impressed by your co-worker who is trying to protect you by saying: "Who's asking?" You tell him it's okay, looking at your friend with a puzzled look.

...The cops pulled over besides me laughing hysterically. They must have seen the entire thing judging from the look on their faces. They never even got out of the car. All they said over the speakers was: "Sir, you can't have people ride on the flatbed of your truck. That's illegal in this city!" and then they drove off...

You can't believe it. You raise your arms into the air feeling the weight fall of your shoulders. You scream of joy and you hug your friend to celebrate the great ending of another adventure. Suddenly you notice another ackward silence. You turn around and for the second time you stare into twenty astounded faces. Realizing you owe them an explanation, you walk over to the fridge to grab another beer for your friend. You sit down and talk.

Fast forward six days. The rest of the plan worked out perfectly. You traveled to Xanadu to do a flipmode squash and obtained the seven Q's bongo. This got you the letter A, completing the word. Four nights in an unknown city, three different objects, two letters and one amazing story.

You find yourself in an office. You have the weekly meeting with your boss and discuss the recent business trip. It's been a great trip that was succesful for the entire team. Superlatives fling back and forth and yet you notice a certain unease. "Well," you hear him say: "there is one thing I need to discuss."

...we think that your base jumps are very cool, and we urge you to keep doing what you love. However, we do ask you to please leave your parachute at home during business trips. It is a liability the company can not afford. That said...

...that night you came running into the hotel room was unbelieveable! I don't think I've ever seen anything like it before...

You walk back to your desk. You sit down and notice the picture attached to your monitor. It's a picture of yourself, just as you're about to leap of a bridge.

And then you smile...

[vandev 0]

That is very cool...please continue....

In the end...the universe has a way of working itself out.... "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle"

[vandev 0]

Ok jap....thats definatly a 30 minute episode for a TV special....excellent .......

In the end...the universe has a way of working itself out.... "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle"

[KevinMcGuire 0]

Fucking great one. I especially liked the part about bursting into the room full of unsuspecting co- workers.

[NickDG 23]

>>It's not vintage and nothing super spectacular <<

That's just a matter of time . . .

NickD BASE 194

[aj4218 0]

... don't forget Nick - I have a boxful of transparencies waiting to be posted that tell, in pictures, the story of the very first modern UK BASE jumps. Address please!! PM me.

[Luke 0]

If you're going to trust these to the post, please get good copies made 1st.

I'm positive I'm not the only UK jumper that'd be mad keen to see them at some point.

Thanks for the story in the other thread, I can picture Ian M making his 1st BASE jump smoking a cigarette.
[Kev]: Outstanding story, mate. There have been some great stories from some great people here recently & yours was the best of the crop to me. You got to have more where that one came from, though. Come on big fella, you got to have plenty of time to be tapping on your keyboard if you ain't jumping at the moment.

[Jaap]: Brilliant. Certainly up to your usual high standard, both in terms of quality and word count.

[kleggo 138]

story number one

time = early 1983
place = L.A.
site = a bank building under construction, the baby of two similar buildings.
gear = a 1978 wonderhog a Gargano Spirit, ( 220 ft 7 cell ), with a sail slider in a bag, skydiving throwout bridle and PC.

It was my first Building jump and I was a bit concerned about the choice of gear, so I drove over to Carl and Jean’s and asked Carl, “ Hey what do you think about me jumping Baby ******* with a Spirit in a bag?”
Carl, “sounds good to me, let me know how it works out”.

So a friend drops off me and ex-patriot Brit, Mike Mc. and we start the climb up the construction stairs.
Even though I had recently left the Marines and I thought I was a tough guy, I was quite fried when we stopped at about floor 42 or 43.
Ever climbed 43 stories with 25 pounds on your back, in the dark?
Amazing how noisy those stairwells were.

We sat around for a bit to let the sweat dry as we hung our feet over the edge and enjoyed the downtown LA life @ 2am.

Finally we had screwed up the courage to exit. Mike went first and all went well. I followed and…………………………………………………… things did not go so well. After a short delay, I opened 180° off heading, ( imagine that), and not far at all from the building. I was on the rear risers hard to stall the canopy which still swung me out towards the wall. I tucked up and hit the building HARD, fortunately between the windows, with both feet.
I’m alive writing this because just as the nose of the canopy touched the wall it was flying backwards and I was able to turn away, pop the brakes and land on the street.

Unfortunately the story does not end there.

Upon landing I was greeted by two BIG black security guards with big baseball bats who said. “don’t move boy, you’re under citizen arrest”.
I did not really care. I was alive and unhurt.
The LAPD came and were forced to take me to Parker Center because the building landlords wanted to start busting people to dissuade activity for liability reasons. The police were very cool. They let me field pack my gear in their hallway and stashed my gear in waterproof bags.
They also kept me out of the drunk tank general population.

I was eventually charged with Criminal Trespass. it cost me about $250 and 80 hours of public service duty which I spent filing books at the Inglewood Public Library.

I’m glad we know a bit more about gear nowadays.

be safe
or
be smart

kleggo

[KevinMcGuire 0]

Damn those medeling do gooders. Great story.

[gweeks 1]

A friend of mine at our dropzone gave me this story that he wrote circa 1982. The canopy was a Stratocloud packed slider down into a skydiving rig with a d-bag.

----------------------------------------

Antenna Tower Jump

During last year's Freeze Fest weekend at Pelicanland-Drop Zone in Ridgely, Maryland, Madman Will, (who was one of the first 40 jumpers to earn a BASE number), treated everyone who was interested to a two hour video show on BASE jumping. Having made one base jump from the New River Gorge Bridge, I was quite interested. The video blew me away. After watching it, I mentioned to Will that I would like to jump off an antenna tower. That was all he needed to hear. Early Sunday afternoon, after Will and I had spent all we could afford on fun jumps, we decided to ride out to [city], [state] in search of an antenna tower 1,000 feet high. After discovering not only one but two towers, both about 1,000 feet A. G. L. and jumpable, we decided to go for it on Monday. On Monday morning, I helped as the Madman very carefully packed the chutes for the event. It took approximately three hours as he explained the special technique of packing for a tower jump. Finally we were ready. Terry O'Malley (who is a member of the CRW team Jump-Street) went along to film the event.

As we drove up to the first antenna tower, we noticed that the landing area was ideal because the tower was in the middle of a field. Unfortunately, there was a guard there. Knowing that at the other tower only one side was suitable for jumping because of tall trees, we waited to see if the guard would leave. After waiting about 30 minutes, we were so pumped up we decided to go check out that other tower.

When we arrived at the second tower, there was no ground wind at all. Hoping that the wind at altitude was blowing in the same direction the clouds were moving, we started putting on our gear. I was all psyched up until I climbed about 100 feet. By the time I got half way up, I was so exhausted I even said, "I would be glad to pay six dollars for 3,000 feet." Finally, after about two hours of climbing, I made it to the top. Will had been paitently waiting for at least 20 minutes before I reached the top. Exhausted from the long climb, I sat and rested awhile, enjoying the view. There was a brisk, cool, breeze blowing in the direction we had hoped. After about 5 minutes of rest I could tell Will was getting a little impatient, so I said, "Let's get ready." Will wanted to go off first, and got no argument from me. We checked each other's gear one last time, then he climbed over to the launch area, which was one of the metal rods of the tower. He then signaled down for Terry to start the camera rolling, and said "Ready-Set-Go". He did a perfect five second delay--stable all the way. One second after I saw him pitch out his pilot chute, his canopy opened with a loud "Whapp." I took a deep breath, and climbed over to the launch area. I heard myself say, "Oh, Shit" and watched as Will landend.

Feeling a little more at ease after seeing Will land safely, I yelled down to Terry to point the camera up at me. I took one more big hit of oxygen and said out load, "Ready-Set-Go." Looking up as I pushed off into a free-fall, away from the tower I went. Less than two seconds after I jumped I went slightly head down, and could see the tower as I zoomed down along side of it. I could feel my speed increasing rapidly with every second. I pulled up into a stable position and continued to fall for another two seconds before I pitched out my pilot chute. "WHAMMO !!!!". The pack job worked like a charm. After a brief canopy ride I was safely back on the ground, I could have climbed back up that tower in less than 15 minutes. Wow !! What a rush !!.

Many thanks to Terry O'Malley for climbing up about 600 feet to film us. I wouldn't have done it without Madman Will's expertise. I can hardly wait to jump off the other antenna tower now. Thanks Will, I still get off just thinking about it.

Al Shinaberry C-14564

[gweeks 1]

Here's another one from the same friend about Bridge Day 1983.

---------------------------------------

An estimated 25,000 people came out for Bridge Day, October 8, 1983. That is the only day each year for skydivers to legally leap off the world's longest steel arch bridge. The New River Gorge Bridge is the second highest bridge in the U.S.-spanning 876 feet above the world's second oldest river.

It was a beautiful day in Fayetteville, West Virginia. The sun was shining and temperatures were in the mid 70's. Festivites included a marathon race, some repellers, but skydivers were definitely the main event. Over 230 jumpers registered for the boogie and over 500 jumps were made.

The whoffos got their eyes full of some scary stuff this year. Some skydivers entertained them by flipping over on their backs and pitching their pilot chute between their legs. Other jumpers would pack with their slider up to make it seem like their canopy wouldn't be fully open until they were about to splash in the river. One girl even had a line over and cut away. She managed to get her reserve out just in time. Even though there were some scary jumps, most of the jumpers entertained the crowd by stepping off in a head high position and falling stable for three or four seconds before pitching out.

Among these jumpers were six Diamond State Skydivers: John Thomas, who made three jumps; Liz Collins who was the first one to make the leap that day. Liz and Al Shinaberrry each made two jumps. Wildman Wallace Price, who may have been the only Black to make the leap, made one jump; Charlie England, who was probably the oldest, but definitely one of the happiest, made his first Base jump, and did it perfectly. John Newton who did much better this time, compared to the one he made from the catwalk in May, also made one jump. Another real crowd pleaser was when two guys took off a perfect two way line and then built a stack.

The thing I enjoyed most, other than my jumps, was hearing all the Yea Hahs and Wha Hoohs!!!, and seeing all those smiling faces as the jumpers gathered up their chutes and made room for the next jumper to land. All in all, I thought it was a good boogie. I can hardly wait until next October. As long as they continue to allow jumpers on Bridge Day, you can bet I will be there!!

Al Shinaberry C-14564

[aj4218 0]

Got any idea how good it makes me feel that Frank has kicked this stuff off on the Forum?

[Luke 0]

Quote

I'm going to keep bumping this one until some ponies up with a story. Perosnally I don't even care if your sories are vintage or not. If it's cool, then I want to read it. Can I get an Amen?

Another story that is very far from vintage, but here goes:

Be warned: it's a long story (even by Jaap's standards), warts & all.

The main characters in this little story are myself, my two good friends
Hippo and (as he later became known) Johan. Just for your reference Kev,
Johan was one of your last students. You did a two way with him out in
Norway for his 100th BASE jump. Last but not least, the getaway driver was
my lovely and long suffering wife Jo.

Every day I take the train into and out of work and pass a tasty selection
of objects along the way, but one in particular had been playing on my mind.
The new FlatIron building had topped out and workers were due to be moved
into it within a few weeks. It's within the centre of the financial
district and as soon as the construction workers were moved out I knew it'd
go from the "to do" list to the "wish I'd done it" list. She's the new
headquarters for a leading global financial institution and is proudly
advertised as being the world's first terrorist proof building.

I spent most of my next day off freezing, whilst I watched how the building
operated and checked out the security of the surrounding buildings too. The
surrounding buildings are absolutely superb, but the security layers
employed make them near impossible. If you've ever flown out of Eilat I
suspect that you're almost getting there in terms of the paranoia these guys
suffer from. I realised that they were a lost cause when I figured out that
the dozen sharp looking, well built, crew cut sporting, Armani wearing
blokes hanging around the reception area were in fact undercover security.

So back to the FlatIron building. It's still had loads of construction
workers milling about and therefore could never be as secure. They are
issued with photo ID and are checked at one of two security huts. They wear
yellow flourescent Hi Vis and white hard hats and seem to mill about
unchecked once inside. I note two possible entry points, suitable for our
purposes.

The next day on the train into work I take another longing glance at her and
ring Hippo to see if he might be interested. I explain to him that I see
her twice a day and that she's been taunting me; that it's only a few more
weeks she might be jumpable. Hippo is already familiar with this area and
agrees that we stand a very high chance of being caught, possibly before we
even take our rigs out of our stash bags, but that it's worth it to both of
us. We discuss entry and exit strategies and whether anyone else might want
to come. We decide that a third person will only increase our chances of
being caught a bit, but a forth will turn capture into a dead certainty. We
decide that Johan might like to come and I ring him. He's well up for it
and not too bothered about the possibility of being caught.

Throughout that day we all remain in contact discussing this jump. We
agreed that the winds were as good as they are likely to get and certainly
going in the right direction. We decide to give it a go that night. I ring
Jo and inform her that her that I'd like her to drive the getaway car and
could she possibly meet me there straight after work at midnight with my
rig, body armour and helmet.

We meet at the appointed car park and discuss the plan in detail, so that
everyone is aware of what should happen and where we should be, what the
escape plan will be and so on. Hippo has acquired three yellow Hi Vi vests
and white hard hats for us. Jo drops us as close to the complex's security
check point as she can without us being noticed and we start walking in.

We've just negotiated the first secured gate directly under a check point
and are hiding in the shadows watching the movements of the workers in the
compound when a really loud angry voice apparently shouts at us "Oi, stay
right there!". We all think that the game is up, at the very first hurdle
no less. Johan even says we should just go out now, but Hippo & I are in
agreement that whoever it is can damn well come in and get us. We stay
there and carry on watching and nothing comes of angry man for at least ten
minutes. While we're watching we establish two further hitches: our chosen
entry point is next to the site's portabogs (which we knew about), but the
portacabin next door to them is a tea room and there is no way of knowing
when a worker might emerge from there. We'll just have to take our chances
climbing over the seven foot high noisy spiked fence. It's also become
painfully obvious that the night workers are in fact all wearing orange Hi
Vi vests- we're going to stick out like bollocks on a Bulldog with our
yellow vests. We all agree to press on and wait for a gap in the traffic
passing to and from the portacabins.

When it's as quiet as it's going to get we tackle the fence. One climbs
while the other two try to stop the fence making a noise that would wake the
dead. We're directly underneath another security cabin, so the need for
subtlety outweighs the need for quick access. Subsequently we're visible
for an uncomfortably lengthy time, especially when Hippo gets hung up on a
spike through his jacket and we have to lift him back up and over it again.


Once we're all over the fence it's time to don our Hi Vis and hard hats.
We're now into the compound proper and it's time to start looking like we
belong there, or at least as well as we can with our yellow Hi Vis and our
20lb all black back packs. Hands in pockets, slouching and taking on a
disinterested air, we start to wander towards where we imagine the access to
the basement might be; trying all the while to look like we know exactly
where we're going whilst scanning around for the way in. We pass several
workers and they pay us no attention what so ever.

We find the access to the basement and there's a security guard sitting
right next to it, just out of sight around a concrete pillar. All he's got
to do is lean forward and he can see anything we're doing. Hippo and Johan
stand to one side, trying unsuccessfully to be blend in, whilst I take care
of the security mechanism on the gate. Then the makeshift gate needs to be
opened enough for us to slip through, so I lift it up and start to move it
to one side. The sound of the steel gate scraping on the concrete floor is
excruciating and the already wide eyed Hippo and Johan leap to my
assistance, as we try to minimise the noise. Incredibly, the guard pays us
no attention and we're in!

We calmly walk around the corner and into the basement of the building and
everyone breaks out into their own little celebratory jig: "we're in, we're
in, we're in!" Then it dawns on us that we're in the centre of a very large
building with no signs up yet and we're largely clueless as to where the
stairs are. It quickly degenerates into a farce as we all peer through
different doors looking for any clues as to where we need to be headed. Ten
minutes of this and we stumble across a set of stairs and an elevator.
Johan dives in with eyes lit up like a kid in a toy store, but Hippo & I
agree that we're too close to our prize to be denied it by some fancy
software alerting security to an unauthorised elevator movement- we'll be
taking the stairs.

After a seriously sweaty climb we get to the top floor and start casting
about for access to the roof. We've barely arrived there when we can hear
workers getting closer to us. It looks like our luck might be running out
and we won't find a way up when I remember that high rise workers are these
days demanding easy access to the roof, so that they at least have the
option of helicopter rescue- there's got to be an escape hatch somewhere.
Johan walks around the corner and there it is: small, but with its very own
ladder attached to it. We considered whether the hatch might be alarmed or not, but the ever closer voices of workers became more important. Without further delay we're on the roof and looking
out over the beautiful night time panorama of our city.

With no further need for the Hi Vis and hard hats, we neatly roll them up,
stuff them under some pipes and start to kit up. I ring Jo and tell her
that we've reached the roof and will give her a five minute call.
Apparently we've taken almost two hours so far and she's nearly finished her
book.

We confirm the exit order and escape plans. Hippo broke both his legs only
a few months earlier and is still suffering a great deal of pain: he goes
first. I'm a heavy smoker and want to be next off as soon as he's clear and
Johan is off last. Kit checks and customary funky hand shakes out the way,
I ring Jo and tell her we're off soon. As soon as the first canopy opened
the clock would be ticking and she'll drive up to the nearest check point to
her, swing a u turn just before it and pull up where we intended to climb
out of our chosen landing area.

Hippo jumps and has a perfect opening. As soon as he's clear I'm off. I
can't imagine the building's designers had BASE jumpers in mind, but I was
looking at the floors as I fell past them and the dimmed night time lights
were all different colours and gradients of each colour. It was a fantastic
show, a lot like looking into a brilliant and very big kaleidoscope. I have
a similarly great opening and follow Hippo into our intended landing area
where we both have good landings. We gather up our canopies and run like
lunatics to the shadow of the wall we need to climb over. Both hands are
needed to get over this wall so we stuff just our canopies in their stash
bags to swing over the top of our harnesses. Still no sign of Johan- where
the fuck his he? I'm scanning wildly round for him but I can't see
him. Hippo, who is frantically stashing his canopy, has time to reassure me that Johan is fine and tells me to hurry up.

Meanwhile I'm seriously puffed out from running. I'm experiencing
tunnel vision and seeing stars big time. Later I figured out that it was a
big mistake to run with my full face helmet on: I've been breathing the same
depleted air I'd just breathed out and I'm so starved of oxygen I almost
don't give a shit. I'm standing on Hippo's canopy while he tries to stash
it and not really doing very well stashing my own (I think I even tried to
stash some of his canopy in my bag). I get my canopy stashed as Hippo
climbs the wall and then start to struggle with the simple process of
putting my filled stash bag over the top of my harness to climb out. I'm
starting to get some fresh oxygen again (I've still got my full face on) and
become vaguely aware that Johan is looking over the wall and beckoning me to
start climbing. I just about had the presence of mind to wonder how the
hell he suddenly appeared there when he told me that a security Jeep was
pulling up. I heard Hippo shout "Go, Go, Go!" and Jo roaring off down the
road, followed almost instantaneously by "Stop! Let's go back."

(Quick mental note to self at this point: need to mention to wife during later debrief the importance of having spouse in getaway car before charging off. Must not be too hard on her, though. She's clearly working to the greater good of the group and obviously has an excited Hippo screaming orders in her ear.)


Then Johan (who was man handling
me over the wall at this point) told me we were caught. As I get my legs
over four security guards close round the pair of us and grab us and Johan
shouts "It's o.k., I've got him!" I looked at him as if he'd gone utterly
mad, before I realised that he'd somehow gotten rid of all his gear and had
morphed into an innocent bystander.

In fact, he'd not just become an innocent bystander, but a bloody have a go hero, apprehending errant BASE jumpers in his spare time, when he's on his way home from the pub.

I take my helmet off and once the guards realised that I was in no fit state
to leg it they let me finish stashing my gear. Hippo had decided to go back
when a security guard had made a wild grab for the back of the rapidly
departing car and fell flat on his face. Hippo felt that he should be with
us too. Only later did it emerge exactly how Johan had miraculously
appeared by the car: After we'd both jumped he decided that his best hope
for escape would be to hop and pop and fly directly over our landing area to
the road. He'd taken a down wind, down hill landing on half brakes, having
had to flare his canopy to avoid landing on a black cab that was passing
underneath. Jo said that a double decker bus had to swerve round him, but
after he'd shot up a lamp post to retrieve his canopy he had his rig and
helmet off super quick and in the back of our car.

The police didn't take long to get there and obviously they wanted mine and
Hippo's details and ID. The head of security turned up and wanted to know
how we'd managed to get in and onto the roof. He kept shaking his head and
saying that they were on a very high security alert, having received a
specific threat from the people that know. He was not a happy bunny that
we'd managed to waltz into the building unchallenged with all our gear. The
more senior policeman mentioned that he'd been in attendance at a previous
BASE jump that hadn't gone quite so well, number 23 on Nick's list and I
thought he might have a problem with us, but he turned out to be pretty cool
about it all. He even asked me "what delay did you take before you threw
your drogue out?"

The head of security (still shaking his head and looking pretty embarrassed)
was still asking us for details on how we got in. We'd told him as much as
we'd needed to convince them that we hadn't done any damage to gain access,
which would have been a police matter. The police pressed us on the third
jumper that apparently escaped and Hippo told them he was a visiting Belgian
jumper called Johan that we'd never met before, that we'd hooked up with on
the internet that day. Dubiously noting this down, they asked " I don't
suppose you have a surname for this mysterious Belgian jumper that you just
met on the internet?" I offered Hannes and the copper sarcasticaly mumbled "Johan Hannes" as he noted it in his little book.
(Deepest apologies if there is in fact a Belgian jumper out there with that
name, BTW.)

All the while Johan is playing up the innocent bystander
beautifully. He's asking me and Hippo "So what's it like to jump then?" and we're having to answer these questions as sincerely as we can to play along. "I could never do that, you lot are completely crazy". I've got to turn away at this point, I can't risk giving his game away.


Then he's taking pictures on his mobile phone of us with the Police, us
with the security (who were extremely uncomfortable about that), him smiling
with us looking caught. I can see at least one of the security guys and one
of the coppers paying undue attention to Johan's Hanwag boots, which I guess
they probably thought bore an curious similarity to mine and Hippo's, but
nothing was said.

Meanwhile, Hippo and I are doing our utmost best to be as polite to the security and police as we can and try to avoid appearing evasive with their questions. Hippo had even helped up the guy that fell over trying to catch him. We made it clear that we understood that they had their job to do and maybe on this occasion it might have conflicted with our passion somewhat. I suspected that we might have got them on our side to a certain extent when one of the security guards (who was clearly a Northerner himself) started ribbing Hippo, calling him a "daft Northern monkey".

The head of security asked for a private word with the police and after
several minutes came back and advised us that no police action would be
taken. Myself and Hippo were issued with notices from the complex security
banning us for six months from entering the financial district and it was
witnessed by the police. They let on that they'd been asked to detain us if possible because the head of security for the building wanted to question us and that he was hopping mad, but that they couldn't see how they could possibly hold us any longer from a legal stand point.

As an interesting and argueably ironic sidenote, it later transpired that the then head of security for the building (that we never got to meet, thankfully) is a skydiver from one of the larger drop zones in the area. Apparently he took more than his fair share of abuse over this little incident.

We all went to McDonalds and (possibly for the first time and last time) we
all had very Happy Meals.

[JaapSuter 0]

Quote

All the while Johan is playing up the innocent bystander beautifully. He's asking me and Hippo "So what's it like to jump then?" and we're having to answer these questions as sincerely as we can to play along. "I could never do that, you lot are completely crazy".

I think I just crapped my pants laughing. That was awesome Luke!



Keep 'm coming people!

[GeordieSkydiver 0]

You couldn't make this shit up.

Awesome stories guys.

Lee _______________________________

In a world full of people, only some want to fly, is that not crazy?
http://www.ukskydiver.co.uk

[KevinMcGuire 0]

Great one Ron. I started reading with out looking to see who had writen the story. Before I was finnished, I knew you were the author. You write like you speak. Great job. Your story is proof of just how far one can go with little more than a stout set of balls. Tell Johan I said "sup nigga"
K

[NickDG 23]

>>You couldn't make this shit up.<<

That's a Nugget . . .

NickD BASE 194

[lifewithoutanet 0]

Quote

I can see at least one of the security guys and one of the coppers paying undue attention to Johan's Hanwag boots, which I guess they probably thought bore an curious similarity to mine and Hippo's, but nothing was said.

Love my LaSportiva's.

Man, these are all great stories, vintage or not. Thanks everyone for sharing. You're keeping me alive today as I catch up on this thread. Work sucks.
-C.

[sabre210 0]

Here’s a little ditty for you.

The jump story in itself isn’t really that out of the ordinary and could be summarised in a paragraph or two. I personally think it’s worthy of telling ,only in so much as it certainly should make those jumpers - who believe it couldn’t happen to them - sit up and take note. In addition it links back to some of the most vintage stories around – as told by Simon Jakeman in his book groundrush.

Somewhere in the great metropolis of London lies a building known to many as ‘The House’; a block of residential flats towering a pretty unimpressive but nevertheless jumpable 240 to 250ft (depending on who you talk to.) This particular B features in Jakeman’s book, along with some stills and a gut wrenching description of the climb onto the roof from the top floor balcony which involves a precarious dangle 230ft above the streets of London. After the climb up, the jump itself is a blessed relief.

Having jumped this B only a week or so earlier, I had noticed upon entering the foyer of this building (along with fellow jumper Dan-the-Man) that the long overdue construction of a security desk and concierge system was almost at a completion. Furniture – still wrapped in plastic - had been moved into the security office and the monitors, connected to those dozen or so new security cameras were in position and hooked up. As we headed home after the jump we realised this B would in no time at all become an altogether more difficult, if not impossible, object to jump. The most had to be made of the precious quality time we had left.

Calls were made; discussions had; and a general, but loose plan was hatched. A group of us would visit the B and jump it at the next available opportunity.

Within a week, the forecast looked good and so I made some calls. By the end of the working day four good friends were all committed to jumping that night.

As I was seconds from leaving the house that night, my wife took a phone call: her gran had taken ill and was being rushed to hospital, things didn’t look good. I called the gang and made my apologies. I wouldn’t be able to make it.

The three of them pressed on with the plan.

At some point that night, after the last drunks had staggered home from the pub, Dan-the-man stepped over the edge of the house for the second time in as many weeks. As soon as he landed Neil Q followed, and moments later Duane joined them. As Neil spun round on hearing Duane’s canopy burst open he was confronted by two alarming facts. Firstly Duane had opened off heading and had landed in a tree and secondly a group of people were sprinting towards him at speed. Within seconds though he came to realise that they were not in fact residents but another group of jumpers who had the same plan in mind. After carefully extracting Duane unharmed from the tree (it was a rubinia by all accounts) the first group depart in a London cab, leaving the second group probably scratching their heads.

Group 2 after weighing up all the facts decide to press on too. Later that same night canopy number 4 burst open after Mac steps over the edge, followed moments later by Tom who by all accounts experienced a rather funky canopy inflation. On the ground, acting as crew was the relative newbie Ivan.

So ends a slightly crazy and almost comical night of urban jumping. Not much of a story I’m afraid, but the epilogue makes a rather interesting read.

Not long after this event, Ivan lands in the pitch black after a jump, snapping his tib and fib. Mac opens low off a gasometer and snaps his tib and fib, requiring his foot to be turned around by a jumper at the scene, I turn low after a cliff jump and snap my left tib, only to go on a few months later and snap both my right tib and fib after stalling out my canopy. Tom lands badly and breaks lots including his femurs, Duane dies on impact after his first wingsuit jump in Switzerland and finally Neil dies after falling from a cliff he’s intending to jump from in Thailand. Of all the people connected to the jump that night, only Dan avoided injury. And I hope it stays that way fella.

Make of that what you will but it’s certainly a reason to pause for thought. Sorry it’s not a happy ending but my wife’s gran did make a full recovery though.


ian

[BASE813 0]

what a night......................

funny as fuck!

the curse of the house though............ that fucking sucks............

just posted a list on the UK board - and this is in one of "most memorable"

Thanks for the memories................


Mac

PS) Glad your Gran-in-law was ok..............

[JOY 0]

Hey Nick, this is a great thread and brings back some crazy memories. This is a case of "I wouldn't do now what I did then, but I didn't know any better." Since it's Vintage, I want to tell my favorite jump story about mine and my twin brother's first night cliff jump off Half Dome in early 82. Randy and I had just been BASE jumping for a few months and had our S and B. Hell we were from Iowa and barley knew what a cliff looked like. We had been skydiving for 10 years and had already met Carl before. So we decided to go to Yosemite for a cliff and just figure it out. We got to CA and called Carl. Told him we were going to El Cap to make a night jump. Then he made his funny OHOHOH sound and said that no one had ever done a night jump off Half Dome. So of course we changed plans. You remember we all wanted to have some firsts in those days while there were still a lot of firsts to be had. After partying too late one night, we didn't get started up the trail from Curry Village until about 2:30 and we had to get up before dark to do wind tests and find the exit and landing areas. The hike was a bitch with our old skydiving rigs disguised under rain coats. Randy had a mid 70's SST Racer and I had a mid 70's container called a Piglett, made for 2 small rounds. My canopy was an old Golden Knights 5 cell Stratostar #106. It had over 2000 jumps on it when I got it. Well finally we barely make it up about an hour before sunset. We actually argued about where the landing area was since it's hard to see from up top. We located what we felt was the best exit point using a tip from Carl to avoid the diving board. It was cold as hell at night with snow still all around. We sat in a snow ring to block wind and just got scared. We had a pint of Wild Turkey on us to keep us warm, but our indigestion was bad due to fear and not eating we barely touched it. At 2:00 we flashed our ground crew on the ground and no light came back. They had built a small camp fire and the Rangers must have seen it from the Glaciar Point station. Anyway they ran them off. At 3:00 AM we went to the exit point, scared as hell. We had been waiting for a moon that never got above 20 degrees in the sky so it was pitch black looking down. Before dark, we had located a hump in a big mountain across the valley that was on the heading we needed to get to the landing area. We hoped we could see it at night and we barley could. We had calculated our glide angle and rate of descent at a 1.5 glide ratio which is about all you get out of a worn out stratostar. The day before we had stepped off one mile out from the Talus so we figured with a 10 second delay we would come over the meadow at about 500 feet. Before Exit, we were scared to death and decided (badly) to shorten the delay to 7 to 8 since we had a long way over the trees. He goes first, nice head high leg spread exit into a track in 3 seconds and I lost him. Heard the opening saw it for a second looking over the edge and he disappeared into the wall and came back out. Turns out he had broken a steering line and the canopy opened with a spin that took 2 turns to stop. I thought he was hurt so I had to get it together to go. I saw his canopy and it looked like it was flying randomly.
I figured, Hell I'm doing a 10 to get further away from this wall. I go into an immediate track for a full 10 before I reach. Man did I get hammered but I was 200 feet from the wall. My left steering line locked and the right one snapped. Horrible left spin I couldn't stop with just a rear riser. Spun 3 times gettin within 20 feet of the wall and grabbed an opposite nose line and the canopy flew straight. Looked horrible but flew. I came in ove the landinig area and Randy was cussing and limping. He was so scared he needed a drink of Wild Turkey but when he hit the wall, it broke the cap and was totally empty. Anyway we did get to be the first night jumps off Half Dome, and lived despite our gear.
Rick Harrison
BASE 38
N.BASE 13

[email protected]

[KevinMcGuire 0]

I don't know about the rest of you but I think that this is the best thread I have ever seen in these forums. Each night I get to sit down and read a bed time story. Thank you Joy for that glimpse into the past. Too bad about the booze. Thanks everybody and keep them coming.
What about you Tom A. I'm sure that you have your share of stories. Lets hear them.

[skypuppy 1]

This isn't about me, but I found it in the Globe and Mail, 1974.

A $25,000 jump from CN Tower

by Anne Parsons

One friend called him a revolutionary, but William Eustace from Newfoundland himself says he's a man who always 'does his own thing'.

He said he would jump off the top of the 1500 ft-high CN Tower. Yesterday, he did.

But doing his own thing has cost Mr. Eustace $25,000 a year job and almost his life.

"I was fortunate, very fortunate, that I made it... I almost hit 118,000 volts and the tower restaurant on the way down," the iron worker said in an interview last night. Mr. Eustace, 33, said he jumped because he told everyone he would and because he will do just about anything to be an individual.

"I've wanted to jump ever since I started work on the tower. I was sick, sick, sick with the job and the people who worked there: but now it';s all over."

Mr. Eustace was fired after his jump late yesterday afternoon by Jack Whyte, superintendant of construction for the tower, for violation of safety procedures.

If some old guy can do it then obviously it can't be very extreme. Otherwise he'd already be dead.
Bruce McConkey 'I thought we were gonna die, and I couldn't think of anyone

[evilivan 0]

Most definitely not vintage, but the alcohol induced this posting.......

This is the jump that broke bits of me (as they say, its between those who have and those who will...)

************************

The Jump:
It was very dark. Approaching the object I was thinking how dark it was and trying to judge how it would look under canopy; I consciously made the decision that there was enough light to see for landing. Winds were OK at ground level, but my jump buddy (an experienced jumper, and experienced with this object) warned that the winds would be pretty tasty at opening height due to the nature of the conditions in relation to object. I decided that, considering the wind conditions at ground level, I would be happy to jump providing the wind was between the wires.
As we climbed the winds really did pick up, but the WDI pause at opening height was favourable and we continued. After some pin-popping/shoe-lace fixing shanannigens at the launch point (not my rig), my mate exited and shortly after opening I lost sight of him – last view was him making some VERY good distance away from the object. I waited till I heard him land, thinking “hmmm…. a down-winder would be an unpopular choice tonight…”
I climbed the rail, and after the normal “why am I doing this again? Oh yeah cos its fun” moment, I had a good exit, took about a 1”, and pitched. Nice on heading opening, freed the breaks, and started bringing it round for landing. At this point I realised exactly how dark it was; I could not see the ground, or any other hints of where it might be (horizon/trees etc). I prepared for a PLF and then thought I could see where the ground was, so started a very slow flare; I was about ¾ breaks when I passed the point where the ground should have been (I had strong words with the planet later) and realised that from here sinking it in was the only option.
The point of impact I’m not entirely sure about; it wasn’t that hard – I’ve hit the ground much harder many time in my 6 years skydiving (without injury!) – and I was still prepared for a PLF, but I *think* my left foot hit a tussock, although it is entirely possible that I just got caught up in “where the fu(k is the ground???” mode and wasn’t ready for the hit. Either way, my left foot twisted round with a nasty noise and I knew that all was not good with the world, and even less good with my foot.

The conversation from there:
Buddy (from distance): “You OK mate?”
Me: “No……….. I don’t think so……. I think I’ve broken my ankle.”
Buddy: “Yeah, right mate, stop pissing around.”
Me: “Um. I’m not. I really think I have done something here.”
Buddy: “Tit.”

Perhaps not verbatim, but the general gist is there.

The extraction:
Looking down at my foot, I could see - based on previous experience - that it wasn’t pointing the right way. I rolled myself to straighten it out as my mate came over, and we proceeded to remove my rig. My car was approx 500m away, so my mate took the rigs and went off to the car and try and get it a little closer. While he was away I used my knee pads to make a very primitive splint.
On his return, he was happy to inform me that he HAD managed to get the car closer; I was very pleasantly surprised by this news as the area is surrounded by fencing and I didn’t have much hope of that.
So I started hopping. This is something I don’t recommend to anyone…. It’s really grim with a broken leg. I was leaning heavily on my mate and hyper ventilating (anyone hyper ventilated?? Very weird…. You know its going on but have no control over it). There was much:
“how breathbreathbreath much breathbreathbreath further breathbreathbreath?”
followed by:
“just over there mate – see that fence? Nearly there”
and I eventually realised that “brought the car closer” roughly equated to “brought the car 50m closer”....

….and at this point I raise a glass to 621 for his very economical use of the truth, never failing humour, and (short) but strong shoulder…..

Reaching the car was one of the happiest moments of my life. I almost managed to smoke myself to death during the 45 min drive to the hospital. Which would have been ironic.

Injury:
Dislocated ankle; broken tib; broken fib. Strongly recommend avoiding dislocation resets on broken bones. It is a most unpleasant experience.
Surgery the next day; pins for the tib x3, plate for the fib.

**************************

As I said, not vintage. But the lesson learned - never jump if you are not happy with the conditions - may be an early warning for another newbie reading this.

It hurts.

A lot.

If you are lucky.

Sleep beckons. G'night.

"If you can keep your head when all around you have lost theirs, then you probably haven't understood the seriousness of the situation."
David Brent