When I
turned 70, I did a static line parachute jump at 5,000 feet.
Now, a decade later, and not being of sound mind and even less sound in body,
I decided I wanted to do a solo freefall parachute jump. The nearest jump school was three-and-a-half
hours from home (seven hours round trip) but I made the trip down and signed up
on a Saturday. Another round trip the following Wednesday (leaving the house at 4 a.m.) to attended an eight-hour training –
coming home with muscles aching that I hadn’t used for years. Yesterday, another trip down, leaving the
house at 4:35 a.m.
I arrived –
some more training – then wait… We had
a cloud cover and students can’t jump in clouds.
About 2 p.m.
they canceled it for students. You
could still jump tandem with an instructor or come back the next day to try
again. The weather forecast shows
mostly cloudy for the whole week, so I said fuck-it and jumped tandem. The idea of a fourth seven-hour round trips
in one week sucked.
We went out
at 15,000 feet - free fall for 10,000 feet; then flew the chute down for a
landing. It wasn’t a solo jump as I had
planned; but it was great – and I got it out of my system.
In retrospect,
the reality is that I am too fucking old to keep playing young men’s
games. I would recommend a tandem jump
for anyone – you don’t have to go through all the training I did for a solo
freefall.
I am sore
this morning, but ambulatory: thank god for BC Powders.
the Ol’Buzzard
