Skydive the Beach, Byron Bay

July 3, 2012:

The next morning we had a sort of karmic revenge on our noisy, durg-addled (probably) roommates when we got up at 7:15am and weren't able to sneak out as quietly as we'd hoped. We were on the road to Byron Bay, the scenic destination where we had agreed to go Skydiving.

Mentally preparing to boldly go where lots of insane people have gone before is a bit like not thinking about it until you're up in the plane with your legs dangling out and trying to remember the instructions.

But honestly, I'm not big on getting nervous about things before they happen. Worrying about everything before it happens is my sister, Andrea's, favourite pastime. So instead, I watched the scenery as we approached and attempted to help navigate (which requires more concentration than you might think, considering we were driving on the left side of the road).

Brittney and Caitlin, who were most anxious about doing it, decided to go first to get it over with.

Brittney and I would have the skydiving instructor who apparently thrived on joking with people who seemed nervous. He told Brittney things like he shouldn't have had those beers the night before and that he always forgot the order of how to do up the harnesses. I think he was worried that I would be as scared as Brittney because he opted to tell me that in his life he'd done more than 7000 jumps and how he had won awards or something. But I'm getting ahead of myself. All of his "reassuring" comments to Brittney resulted in this:

Meanwhile, I was attempting to pay for my jump in the office with no success. I knew I had enough credit on my card but it kept getting declined. Jay offered me her phone to call VISA in Canada. I was informed that my card had been deactivated and I could feel the blood draining out of my face (honestly, this was more terrifying to me than my impending jump from approximately 9 million feet). My card number was found on a list of stolen numbers and the man at VISA offered to send me a new card while I was in Oz, but I figured this would be too complicated considering our nomadic trip plan and opted instead to have just large charges put through on it over the phone. The man that worked in the office, Caleb, was really nice and told us all about how much he loved Canadians and how he'd lived in Banff for a while. He also told us that skydiving is safer than driving a car (I later took this at face value... I later proved to be a basketcase while driving the Jucy van on the left side of the road). It was calming to know considering that a 10-year-old was being trusted to pack up the parachutes. Thankfully, his grandfather repacked the one he had been working on when he was out of sight.

Jay and I got harnessed up:

 ...and left for the air field. Jay's instructor sat in the back of the limo with us and asked us questions. He was as fun as his Cookie Monster toque with earflaps, which I assume is his signature look. When we got to the air field, I managed to get into the plane the wrong way, and my instructor who was a little European and, as we decided later, a little suave, commented, "Oh, so you're one of those special ones." I couldn't decide if I was disoriented by his quiet charm or the whole trying not to think too much about what I was about to do. The realization that our pilot was probably our age did nothing to quiet our misgivings.

When our airplane took off, we rose higher and higher and moved out toward the ocean. The plane seemed to be perfectly level with fluffy white clouds and I thought about what it would be like to jump out over the ocean. The view alone was worth the trip.

The only thing I remember about what it was like when he finally attached our harnesses was being afraid that I'd put my goggles on wrong and the warmth of his body. It was like only my senses were working and nothing else. The door opening was a massive rush of wind and it filled me up with the kind of pure terror that causes the adrenaline to shoot straight through your veins, leaving only the sensation of being so excited you could explode.

The free fall seemed to go on forever. It was the greatest feeling - having no sense of which direction was up or down and no control over it either. In reality, it only lasted a few seconds, but that's not the way my memory registered it. It seemed to stretch on forever. I felt the tap on my shoulder and raised my arms and legs into the proper position and this part of the fall was almost as spectacular, considering the view.

 

I couldn't keep my mouth closed the whole time, my hands got pretty cold and I couldn't suppress the urge to smile and it was all wonderful.

When the parachute opened, the gentle drop to the ground was peaceful and beautiful. Falling back to Earth is an amazing sensation. The site where we land is where the ocean meets a river and my instructor told me that he has done jumps all over the world, but he chose to work in Byron Bay because it is one of the most beautiful places to Skydive that he has ever encountered. The whole thing was exhilarating. It made its mark on me, too. I didn't realize until an hour after we'd landed maybe, but I had been cut by my instructor's boot or something on my leg, leaving a thin scratch, but our lack of access to medical supplies and an immediate shower meant that I now have a scar commemorating my jump! It's no wonder that it escaped my notice - I had a high from the adrenaline for the rest of the day.

It was like Felix Felicis had kicked in (the magical Harry Potter potion also known as "Liquid Luck" that makes the drinker lucky for a period of time, during which everything they attempt will be successful) I had the feeling I could do anything I wanted, so I decided to drive Jucy on the wrong side of the road.