A Track, a Funnel, Ow, where'd you go???

[Michele 1]

I get to the dz bright and early. After talking to Ed, I decide to go through the harness room, not to downsize today, and then do an unstressed solo for my first jump, before anything else.
I manifest, get the SkyVan, and go pick up my rig from the packer. Sling it on, check the winds - none - and begin to get nervous. Yeah, there's the incredibly loud flying milk carton, and here I am, walking to it, and hopping on, like it's nothing. But it really is something. The vast blue beckons - cloudless, crisp. I can't wait to get into the sky again. Up, up, and away; you can tell the groove is just not there yet for a lot of us. Kind of looking around, waiting, you can feel the anticipation. I feel bad for the students - usually we laugh and joke and tease, but this milkcarton is so very loud that we are reduced to smiling through the tension.
We get to altitude, and the first group goes. I watch, for the first time, several solos go in front of me. There's Lori, flipping, arching, - what a sight. To see from above, watching someone plummet, outlined, against the desert ground, bright blue suit unmistakable. It takes my breath away, and I want so much to be there. It is my turn. Just as I approach the hole in the floor that I am supposed to drop through, I feel a tug on my back - the green light has gone out. I sit back on the bench, now anticipating rather than being anxious. I want out!!! I look through the back of the plane, and there - stretched out, far beyond far, is the day. Mountaintops peek through the steel grey fog which clings to the ground out there, miles away, the tops showing but not the bases. I can see for hundreds of miles, I think. The haze mutes all the ground details - guazy, indistinct, almost misty. I see the lake from above, the little boats making little white streamers behind them. I am so very high up in the crystalline sky, so free, so ready to fly.
The light is green, and I am out - flipping, twisting, moving in undetermined ways, released from the constraints of the earth for just a very few precious seconds. I am in the sky again, in the world again, and all the pain, terror, fear, of the last few weeks is left in the plane. Left behind, like a piece of clothing, like some shroud I have taken leave from. The sun is gentle morning gold, touching me, reminding me of the life we have, and the life to live.
I am under canopy now, swirling, dancing, playing. I set up the approach, sad that this jump is ending, happy that it went wonderfully. I near the ground, and remind myself that I have to move my feet when I land. Which, upon touch-down, I promptly forget. Face plant. I lay there, and laugh - I have jumped from the sky, and I have safely landed. No matter that I am still belly-flying on the ground, no matter that I forgot the basic requirement of movement on the earth- using my feet...no matter. I love this thing everyone calls crazy. I love flying.
I get all packed up, and this time I will be jumping with John. He is a wonderful man, who has made it a point to help me in all ways. He has introduced me to many people, has unknowingly comforted me in some of my more difficult moments. He has been stalwart in his support, and glorious in his friendship. And today, he has me sign his friend Chuck's log book, because I can - I have a license! We talk about our jump, and I ask him what we are going to do. What do you want to do, he says. This is the first time I have ever been asked what I want, and, surprised, I blurt out - tracking. I tell him my nightmare of not being good at tracking, and he instantly agrees. We talk, and the plan is simply to get out, get stable, and then do a really long track. Well, I can do that, I think, and we go get geared up.
On the Twin Otter this time, and Jim Wallace is there with a student. She and I talk, and John and I talk. Jim asks John about a demo possibility, which makes me realize how fortunate I am that this man is asking me to jump with him. Jim and I talk, about nothing in particular, and then, as we approach jump run, it gets quiet in the plane. Then the sudden burst of energy as we get helmets and goggles, and the first few jumpers go off. We do a turn around, because the spot is bad.
We're at the door, John climbing on the camera step. The count is mine, and I am out - arching, out again into the blue. Into the sky God has given us, and which we choose for our playground. Into the crisp air, sharp and clear, over all the dust and the dirt which await us on the ground. Out into the sun, reaching, floating, praying with my life and in my joy. Celebrating our freedom with each breath.
I look down, and figure out which way is east. Look quickly at my alti, and it says 10.8, so we are fine. I am heading east without thinking about turning, without thinking about how to make my body fly. I lock my knees, flatten my legs, point my toes. I pull my belly in, and reach forward and the sweep back with my arms. I see John to my side, and he is smiling. I realize I am smiling, too. I remember to roll my shoulders forward and sort of cup my hands, and I feel this odd little tilt - like my legs are, for the first time, a bit lower than the rest of me. I am flying - cruising, slicing through the sky like an arrow. I am staying pretty straight, so I watch us move across the ground. We are really high up, but I can tell we are moving - I go from just west of the runway to where it looks like the road at the back of the triangle is just in front of us. I slow down, then stop. I check my alti, and it shows 8,000. I look down at the cars on the road, just small little shiny things, and I wonder if these people know that there are people flying around on top of them - do they really understand it? Can they get it? And I realize that I should probably pay attention to my skydive. I turn back to the west, so I can be facing the dz when I open.
I look for John, and he is there, just off to my left. He thumbs up me, and I giggle. I am grinning as I wave off. he waggles his fingers at me, and I pull - and the canopy blooms above me, beautiful, bright, whole, and controllable. All good, I think, and then I dance again. I turn and turn, making my first 720. I surprise myself with my guts, because even though that scared me, it was fun to swing from under my canopy and to spin on purpose. I practice flat turns, and riding the brakes. I get to the point where I want to turn to start my downwind leg, and just let it cruise. I fly, canopy snapping, and look at my world from up here. What a difference 2500 feet makes. I look over to the mountains, see the day touching them, making shadows on the ground. I watch wispy clouds, sun filtering through them, beams of light peircing the veil of the haze. I see the beauty I am surrounded with, and store them the way a thirsty man drinks - in huge gulps; desperate, dribbling gulps - until I realize I should be paying attention to the ground and where I am. I turn into the wind, knowing it is pretty strong. I reach up, and pull the rear risers a bit, trying to flatten out my glide. Which doesn't work the way the book says it will, and I know I will be short. Oh well, at least the truck is working today! And this time, it is a gentle, 2 stage flare. I actually feel for the first time the leveling out of the ride, a bit less down and a bit more forward. I finish the flare, and to my surprise, I don't have to flare all the way before the canopy gently sets me down, tippy toed and sweet. I do my little happy dance, and then look up. The guys in the truck are laughing with me, because they know the glory skydiving is, and are happy to see me. John climbs in the truck, and we grin at each other. I told him how weird it was to see another person again in the sky with me, and he asks when did you see me? I said you were off to my left when I started to track, and he laughs. You shot out of there - you left me in your dust, he says. Great job. I grin; it felt great, so I am glad it was great. He says just practice that, and make it a body memory, and you'll never have a problem. Huge grin from me. I know it's silly to be pleased about tracking, but I really am proud that I did it well.
I go and find Dave, who has asked if I wanted to jump with him. I decide that I can go again, although I should head home and get into my office for a few hours tonight. It'll wait, paper isn't going to disappear, and I need a day of joy right now. The sky is calling me, I can hear it over the noise of the plane. I hear it in my soul.
We plan a hybrid dive. My only job is to hold on during the exit, and once stable, let go and arch really hard. He is going to try to pace me in a sit, and and then at the end, we are going to track. I like and trust Dave, I know this'll be fun. Then we manifest on the Van. I never had done a linked exit from the Van, I say, and he quickly rethinks the exit. We switch positions so I am holding onto him because I am scared to go off backward.
We're out the door. I am tentative, and I forget to get my feet onto my butt. Dave and I are belly to belly, head to earth. I think we are going over, so I arch really hard. Really hard, and we level off. I am still arching as hard as I can, and I start sinking out on Dave, who has gotten a grip on me. He is not in front of me anymore - oh, ouch, thump, huge push, tumble, twisting, tumble, sun ground sun ground flatten out arch arch arch ARCH! shit my shoulders hurt and I am back to belly flying. I see Dave in a sit drop past me, and I arch harder, and then Dave is on his belly, and now I am zooming past him, so I try to slow down, hug the earth, but that doesn't help. I keep checking my alti, and trying to keep my eyes on him, but I lose him. I decide no tracking, because I can't find him, and maybe he'll find me, so I'll just stay put, and now it's wave off, look right, left, up, down, still can't see him. I pull, and the canopy opens, and then I see his red chute dancing below me so I breathe a sigh of relief because he is o.k., and playing in the sun. I tug on the front riser, and I am still too scared to hold it for long. I set up, and this time I gauge the winds properly. I 2-stage flare it again, this time really seeing the levelling off, and wait, wait, and finish the flare totally, and actually go up a few feet. Just like the big dogs, only not really. I tippy toe again, and let out a whoop! for I have danced and played, I have soared, I have flown, I am alive.
I pack up - time to head home. Back into the real world, where no-one understands the joy and pride which come with jumping. Back to the real world of death and terror, but now I have a small peace - a quietness, an abiding joy again, which only jumping can give. I now have more memories to replace the horror of the last few days, new joy. I have proved to myself that there is still love, joy, freedom, in this world. It is still there, and I can count on finding it again and again, no matter what the future holds. I'll hold to the knowledge, to my experience, the memories, the solace, the beauty, and the comfort the sky brings me. It's funny how being in the sky can help me get my feet back on the ground.
Ciel bleu-
Michele
"What of the dreams that never die? Turn to your left at the end of the sky".
~e e cummings~

[Viking 0]

once again very well written.
man i can't wait to get my A so i can jump with ya and we can have that freefall race and maybe a tracking contest I swear you must have footprints on the back of your helmet - chicagoskydiver

[skymedic 0]

good job michele...once again a great story..
Marc
Because I fly, I envy no man on earth

[SkyDekker 1,123]

what a beautiful story. I can't jump for a while, but this almost makes me feel like I was in the sky with you, jumping myself...
Thanks and Blue Skies,
SkyDekker

[wingnut 0]

michele,
glad to hear ya had a great time this weekend. it's a shaame i didn't get to jump with ya when i was out at perris.... i'm looking forward to making it out sometime next year though, we gota jump then...... keep on keeping on.......

"up my noooossseee"- wingnut, at first euro dz.com boogie

[DiverDave 0]

Michele,
Thanks for the jump, it was a blast!
Now to count your firsts:
1st tracking dive
1st linked exit from a skyvan
1st time trashing someone with your burble :)
How about 1st jump as a licensed skydiver?
When the beer light went on, you were nowhere to be found :(

just kidding, lets jump again soon... you going back out next weekend?
Cheers... Dave

[SkymonkeyONE 3]

Quote

Now to count your firsts:.......When the beer light went on, you were nowhere to be found :(

Bad monkey, no banana! Good writer or not, Michelle better get it through her noggin that beer rules are just that...RULES! Pay up, girl! LOL!
Chuck

[Michele 1]

Beer? I figure I am still using the beer credit from bringing 9 1/2 cases to my graduation!!!! The whole dz got toasted that night on me and Zclubber....
But you're right. I owe a few beers - but not as many as all that - isn't it no matter how many firsts on one jump, it's still a case of beer? How's a case of Sam Adams and a case of Bass sound? They're sitting right here..........
Ciels-
Michele
"What of the dreams that never die? Turn to your left at the end of the sky".
~e e cummings~

[jbrasher 0]

Thank you, for a fun dive, we'll do it again I'm sure. :-)
John T. Brasher D-5166 AFF/I S&TA

[PLFKING 3]

Another awesome peice, Michele !
I wonder....when you and Sangiro made your deal to write about your progression, did he realize what a steal he was getting ? You should be billing him for such great craftsmanship !
Don

[Shark 0]

So, when ya gonna come over the hill and have your first jump at 'Snore???
I'm buying for the Double Eagle (or whatever you call it) for the 6 point, 8 way last Saturday at sunset. Which, incidentlally was the same day I bought beer for my new rating. Then there's still the one for the D license......

[Kelly 0]

michelle,
once again you have found a way to make normal skydiving words come alive! youre writing is amazing, and your passion for flying is obvious. I just might have to use that line.....
kel