Fatal search for ultimate thrill July 30, 2005 Page Tools Email to a friend Printer format Darcy Zoitsas lived for BASE jumping, until his death in Norway, writes Andrew Clark. When Darcy Zoitsas put on his brand new "bird suit" at the top of Norway's 1000-metre tall Kjerag cliff last week, he was expecting a routine jump with a stunning view of Lysefjord - a rugged stretch of Scandinavian coastline. The 39-year-old Adelaide man was a stalwart of the tight-knit, international community of BASE jumpers - enthusiasts for leaping off high surfaces with parachutes strapped to their backs. Zoitsas had completed more than 550 BASE jumps. But this proved to be his last: his broken body was found by rescuers on a pile of stones at the base of the rock. He was the third Australian BASE jumper to die in 10 months. A website that lists jumping fatalities says Zoitsas is the 90th casualty of the sport worldwide, of whom at least eight have been Australians. Gary Cunningham, president of the Australian BASE Association, says: "In 12 years of jumping, we've never had such a bad run." The death toll has sparked an impassioned debate about liberty, risk and the role of the authorities in protecting thrill-seekers from themselves. The word BASE is an acronym for "buildings, antennae, spans and earth". Each jumper is given a personal "BASE number" - there are only a couple of hundred in Australia. The Blue Mountains, Sydney Harbour Bridge and Bungonia Gorge are hot spots - but the sport is carried out here in secret. Jumps require a permit in NSW's national parks - and permits are never granted. That might, however, be about to change. The Herald has learnt that Tony Fleming, the head of the National Parks and Wildlife Service, has yielded to pressure from jumpers and agreed to a review. BASE jumpers argue that only by permitting and regulating the sport can the accident rate be lowered. A Parks and Wildlife spokesman, John Ross, said: "He [Fleming] has indicated he is going to revisit the issue this year and he intends to do that. But he'd still need to be convinced that there was new information on the subject in order to make him change the policy. Our primary concern is for the safety of the BASE jumpers themselves. This activity is incredibly hazardous." BASE jumpers exist in a curious twilight zone: the Australian BASE Association has a website selling souvenir stubby holders and T-shirts, despite strong disapproval from the authorities. The recent spate of tragedies began in October with Sydney-based Roland "Slim" Simpson. Spectators watched in horror as a jump from Shanghai's Jinmao Tower ended in disaster when Simpson crashed onto a rooftop. Three weeks later, the ABA's safety officer, Jason Fitz-Herbert, was killed in a jump at Bungonia Gorge on his way to Simpson's funeral. A year earlier, a serial BASE jumper, Dwain Weston, had died skydiving from an aircraft. Fitz-Herbert's partner, Livia Dickie (jumper number 81), is still jumping despite the tragedy: "If you lost somebody you loved in a car accident, how would you get to the funeral? You'd drive." BASE jumping began in the 1970s. It is popular among people who like to push themselves to the limit - and therein lies the problem. Experienced jumpers seek increasingly elaborate ways to get an even greater thrill. Vicki de Prazer, a senior psychologist at the Australian Institute of Sport, believes the sport appeals to a specific personality type. "It's a very solo activity," she says. "A lot of it is about people challenging themselves without being in a particularly competitive environment. The competition is with themselves - in pushing beyond their fears." She questions whether legalisation - with artificial platforms, first aid staff and regulation - would appeal to such characters: "I don't think it would work with the type of personality attracted to BASE jumping." Sydney's landmarks seem to attract the jumping fraternity. Last year, Ryan "Rusty" Taylor, a 30-year-old from Bellevue Hill, suffered head injuries in a jump from North Head. Kevin Decourcey jumped off Sydney Harbour Bridge in the dead of night in April. He has been in hospital ever since with serious spinal and pelvic injuries. Donovan Casey, a friend of Decourcey, is convinced the need for subterfuge contributes to such injuries. "People have to sneak around," says Casey. "If they're not impacting on other human beings' safety, why should there be a law against it? "Diversity is what makes our society. Under the present logic, the government would have said to the Wright Brothers 'you guys shouldn't be allowed'." The victim of last week's tragedy in Norway knew the landmarks around Sydney only too well. His cousin, Helen Magiros, recalls the police once spotted him hanging from the railings of Mooney Mooney Creek Bridge in preparation for a jump. He fled and outran the officers - before going back to complete the jump. Magiros says: "You can't ban the sport. The people that do it love it. You can ask them to stop but if they want to do it, they'll go on." She says using her cousin's death as a reason to clamp down on the sport would have broken his heart. "My cousin's whole life was jumping," Magiros says. "He worked to jump, he lived to jump. Once he finished one jump, he started thinking about the next one. If you took away jumping from him, you would have taken away his life."
