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Introduction

When attending a  freshers society fair at my new university in 2000 I looked at the various clubs on offer because I wanted to avoid being a complete student geek and studying during every spare minute of my four year course. I considered joining the skiing, climbing and caving clubs, but I'd already tried those activities previously and wanted a new challenge. One activity that stood forward was the idea of jumping out of a perfectly good aeroplane from great altitudes. Skydiving seemed to offer the greatest adrenaline fix out of all the sports on offer, so my involvement progressed from then on.

It took seven months for an official Aston University Skydiving club to be formed, by which time I was just gagging to chuck myself out of a plane.

On arrival at Langar airfield, just South of Nottingham, UK, I was met by Chuckles, a RAPS (ram-air progression system) instructor. He briefed the group on all the things we needed to know in order to be able to jump on our own and carry out all procedures ourselves. We were given a tour of the airfield and shown the wind sock, the planes and the all important parachutes that we'd be trusting with our lives.

We were shown videos of malfunctions and other scary happenings, all in the best possible taste! This was worrying a bit, though it was nice to know I was trained to overcome such problems whilst hurtling towards Earth.

We were shown how a parachute opens, how to use an altimeter and we also practiced exits from a mock-up cockpit of the small Cessna we'd be going up in - only for it to come down empty.

The end of the day was used for practice landings and cutaway drills. These were the most enjoyable exercises of the course. We were suspended from the hangar ceiling in harnesses and told to perform relevant cutaway drills as Chuckles pushed us backwards and forwards and from side to side. Most of us were in such hysterics the first time round that we forgot all about cutting away and deploying our reserves!

I returned the next day only to be waiting around for hours, willing the wind to drop below the 15mph limit allowed for student jumping. Needless to say, it didn't. I had to suffer the torment of watching experienced jumpers soaring down from the skies and coming in to land at crazy speeds and angles. I decided then and there, even before my first jump, that I'd take up the sport.

I returned a fortnight later with my fiancé to be in tow. She'd decided that she wanted to have a go herself. She did her RAPS course whilst I waited for the low clouds to disappear, but they stayed.

That night we went to the local pub with some of the Langar crew. We were surprised at how friendly everybody was. Chuckles bought us both a drink and we asked why, because he hardly knew us. He replied "That's what friends do isn't it?" That's when we both realised that skydiving isn't just a sport, it is a way of life, people are in it for the social benefits too.

We awoke the next morning and sometime in the afternoon we were told to get kitted up. Oh no, the time has come, I thought. We both put on a jumpsuit and climbed into suitable parachute harnesses.

There was only going to be the two of us plus Chuckles, jumping. How unnerving. I had to think about Carrie as well as myself. I was totally worried. We got into the Cessna 182, clipped our static lines to the pilot's seat (so if anything went wrong he'd be going down too!!!) and taxied to the runway. Being a light aircraft the takeoff was an experience to say the least. We kept bouncing off the runway until both wheels finally took off. No turning back now.

The climb up to 3,000 feet was very windy as there was no door, so the outside world was whistling past and the ground getting further and further away.

I was to jump first. Chuckles shouted "Cut" for the pilot to cut the throttle, resulting in a deathly silence. Then "Feet out". I shuffled to the door and sat on the edge, my legs blowing in the slipstream. "Right foot", I put my right foot on the step over the wheel. "Left hand, right hand", I put my hands on the wing strut. "Left foot", I crossed my left foot over my right and put it on the step. I then shuffled my hands up the wing strut, bent my left leg and let my right leg trail behind me. I couldn't believe what I was doing. This was crazy. I was hanging off the wing of a plane, 3,000 feet above Earth! "Head up", I looked upwards and left into the plane to look at Chuckles who had a huge grin and thumbs up. "GO". Whilst thinking what have I gotten myself into, I let go of the wing strut and pushed my head, arms and legs back into a hard arch, then shouted:

"Arch thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand, check canopy."

It was a great relief to see my parachute was open, though there were loads of twists in the lines. I frantically kicked to get them out and then continued my drills, by checking airspace, opening my end cells, faced into wind and checked that my cutaway pad and reserve handle were still in position. Then it was a quick scissor-kick to the ground crew, acknowledging that I could hear them on my radio, followed by play time. I performed a series of 360 degree turns and practice landing flares. By 2,000 feet I was over the edge of the airfield, 1,500 I was over the centre, 1,000 I started my final slow turn so that by 500 feet I was facing into wind (to slow me down). I heard the commands "Wait, wait wait" whilst the ground was rushing towards me, then "Flare". I pushed my steering toggles all the way down and landed gracefully on my feet, without falling over. I took a few steps forwards and collapsed my canopy. My first thought was that I was still alive, and I noticed that my hands were shaking with adrenaline. What an experience. The smile on my face could be seen from miles away as I gathered up my parachute and walked back to the control tower.

"A job well done"

So if you're interested in the experience of a lifetime, why not enrol on a course today. Its one of those things that you can turn around and say "I've done that". I would really recommend BPS Langar, though there are hundreds of drop zones worldwide.

Dean