We were initially told that there was no skydiving due to some issues with the local airport. Most people, including myself, were completely gutted by the news. Skydiving was the reason most of us were taking time out from climbing at Spitzkoppe, after all. We spent the rest of the day moping about and generally being surly. The next day, however, we were told that all systems were go and tandem skydiving was now an option! I was completely excited at the prospect, having wanted to hurl myself from a plane at 10,000 feet for quite some time now. Yes, I'm a little touched in the head, but most of you knew that already.
Me in my Danger! jumpsuit:
Me and Matt R. in our sexy yellow jumpsuits ready for our turn:
Matt R. getting some last minute instruction:
What can I say? Skydiving was everything that I thought it would be and more. I loved every moment of it and was somewhat surprised to discover that I was not nervous about it at all. The 20 minute ride sitting in the open doorway of a small plane before reaching the appropriate altitude and jump spot was certainly enough to give a person plenty of time to reconsider the ludicrous act they were about to commit, not to mention plenty of time to dwell on practical things like, say, a will, any regrets about life, and the potential state of the human body after impact with the earth at terminal velocity.
The view from the top. Dunes marching to the sea with Swakopmund, the dark area on the coast, in the distance:
I was so busy gaping at the views that the ride was over before I knew it and it was time to jump. When the Skydive Master tapped me on the shoulder, I threw myself out the plane without thinking. I'm not exactly sure what that says about me. Clearly, the whole "look before you leap" lesson failed to have any impact on me in my formative years.
There really is no other sensation in the world like freefalling. Granted, a Skydive Master was strapped to my back, but it still counts in my book. My initial reaction was "Wow, it's so windy!" The force of the air whistling past allows one to be surprisingly comfortable in the spreadeagle position, and makes it easy to do tricks. I spent a couple seconds thinking "Suh-weet! This is the coolest thing ever!" before unintentionally initiating a flat spin when I tried to point at something. Ever suave, I realized what I was doing and immediately recovered by spinning the opposite direction, as though I had meant to do that all along. I think it took the Skydive Master a bit by surprise, but he took it all in stride, only taking precaution to prevent us from spinning too quickly. After 35 seconds of watching the ground approach at an increasingly alarming rate while spinning in circles like a dog looking for a place to lie down, the Skydive Master popped the chute and we were suddenly floating in midair.
In contrast to the excitement and noisy wind of the freefall, it was incredibly peaceful and quiet once the chute was open. It was almost blissful floating gently down and turning lazily while taking in the view. Until, that is, the Skydive Master tipped the chute forward into a dive and we were immediately rocketing toward the ground once again. It was rather disconcerting to see the chute almost below us and find myself practically facedown once more. Then, abruptly, the Skydive Master pulled on the cords, the chute swung over our heads, and for a split second I experienced weightlessness in the air. It was the most amazing feeling ever. In that instant I saw myself going back to university, getting a degree in astrophysics, and becoming an astronaut. Then the moment passed and I remembered that I don't particularly like math. And that another decade of schooling has about as much appeal to me as the intestinal flu. But that didn't stop me from asking the Skydive Master to do the same maneuver repeatedly the rest of the way down. We must have done the weightlessness thing another five or six times while I hooted with excitement like early man discovering fire. I was on an incredible high for the rest of the day and started considering how I might be able to skydive on a regular basis (that night I ran into one of the Skydive Masters and he told me a story about a buddy of his who sold his brother's possessions and car without the brother's consent to finance his skydive addiction). One of the top experiences in my life, hands down.
And yet, the day wasn't over. A few of us had also signed up to do the world's longest zipline -- 1.2 kilometers of cable stretched between two desert peaks -- that afternoon.
Built by a complete nutter who also ran balloon rides, the operation had never been inspected by engineers or even an insurance company, despite the fact that it is possible to reach speeds of over 80 mph. Not exactly confidence inspiring.
The view from the top. The cable stretches all the way to the small peak in the distance:
I thought the fellow was telling us that to scare us, and then I saw the equipment. Let's just say it was quite a bit more intense than skydiving.
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