Just As I Had Planned
- July 2007
- Uncategorized
Mile Hi Dropzone, Longmont Colorado
See, one of the best things about Davises is this: if they say they are going to do something, they do it. Immediately. If not sooner. (We won’t go into the worst things about Davises right now.)
You may recall that part of my motivation for learning to skydive was to see more of my big brother Virgil. It’s been tricky for the last ten years, because he had to stop climbing. Yes, for a DECADE. Being an ER doctor and having to use his arms a lot at work, he was constantly plagued by a shoulder injury from climbing. He finally gave up on the shoulder and turned into a surfer for a while. So for ten years, he’s been off the list of my favorite climbing partners, which is a total drag. Climbers don’t usually hang out where surfers hang out, so you can see the problem. But then suddenly, last November, Virgil turned into an obsessive jumper (like every climber I know right now…..) And even more suddenly, just when I had given up hope completely of ever getting to climb together again, his shoulder is finally better and he is starting to boulder again! So I started having all these wild plans, about how we will be jumping and climbing together all the time. Leading to me learning to skydive two weeks ago…..
Anyway, back to the good things about Davises. So only a week after I started skydiving, Virgil flew to Boulder from Arcata, California! To skydive and climb with me for four days! Talk about ruthless efficiency! I mean, this was definitely my big master plan, but I figured it would take more than seven days to start materializing. (Though you would think I would have factored in the Davis factor, but I forgot about that.) So it’s all working out EXACTLY as I had planned! I love it when that happens!
After jumping out of airplanes for a day, we decided to go and climb Spearhead, in Rocky Mountain National Park. The one thing I would have to say about skydiving is that it does not involve very much exercise. It involves breathing a lot of airplane fuel. It felt so good to start hiking in the dark, watching the light come in with aspen leaves and little wildflowers all around us. The trail to Spearhead is heartbreakingly beautiful, taking you past rock-walled canyons, granite peaks, and smooth pristine lakes.
We started up Sykes Sickle and got a few pitches up before the dark clouds started dumping out rain, pea-sized hail (ouch!), and wet snow, turning the entire face into a giant slip-and-slide. Drat. Virgil was sort of questioning my decision to bring only one rope, but we got down. We didn’t need two ropes! It was a 70 meter rope! It was fine!
The best part about Virgil just starting to climb again, is that I get to be in charge of everything and he doesn’t even argue with me.
The truth is, I actually kind of enjoy little mini-“epics” in some weird way. You know, the kind that are epic in name only, and where nothing bad happens except you get a little wet before you can get back to your pack with your other nice dry clothes. Real epics (the kind that AREN’T fun, IN ANY WAY) make you enjoy the heck out of little so-called wannabe epics!
Virgil enjoyed it too. Or maybe he was just being agreeable. If there’s one thing he is, aside of ruthlessly efficient, it’s agreeable.
Mostly, I was just thrilled to get some exercise, and get back into the Park, spending the day with my brother. Years ago, I lived in Estes Park, to be near the beautiful mountains. Walking up to Spearhead, I couldn’t believe I’ve stayed away so long.
The next day, we skydived (skydived? skydove? hmmmm.) some more…..and I had my first malfunction, on what was only my eighteenth jump. Basically, my pilot chute got stuck in its sleeve (which should NOT happen, but there were extenuating circumstances that would take way too long to explain right now). So when I tried to pull it out, to deploy my parachute at 4000 feet, it wouldn’t come out! This was impossible, I knew, because I had watched the packer put it in the sleeve. And he did not use Krazy glue. So I pulled harder. I pulled REALLY HARD, as I’m sure you can imagine. I think I gave it about a 5.14 yank. Which jerked my body so hard, I started cartwheeling through the sky. So, being a gumby skydiver as well as ridiculously stubborn, I completely forgot that I should only try to pull a stuck pilot chute (there are rules for everything, I kid you not) two times, and then give up on it and deploy my reserve. The experienced skydiver would probably never be in this tumbling situation to begin with. But if they were, they would just put their body into an arch position, which would put them back rightside up in a stable, non-cartwheeling position, and then suavely deploy their reserve parachute. This is not what I did.
I tumbled for about a thousand feet, sort of considering going to the reserve, but determined to yank that goddurned pilot chute out of its sleeve if it killed me. Well. (Before you get too horrified, remember that modern skydiving equipment has a little digital sensor that automatically deploys your reserve if you are still freefalling a thousand feet above the ground. So it wouldn’t have killed me. Which is why they let people like me do this.) I must have had enough adrenaline to give it a 5.15 yank (which I sure wish I could do when I’m rock climbing), and finally got the thing out. Since I was cartwheeling through the air at the time, the parachute lines caught me alongside the chin and jerked me rightside up as it opened, making a serious effort to rip my head off along the way, and then I was under canopy. It was VERY exciting. Remember what I said about mini-epics, with happy endings, and how much I enjoy them? I changed my mind.
Luckily, the next morning I had a great jump, with a perfect landing, and was filled with delight, pride and exhilaration! This whole learning curve that I’m experiencing seems alternately amusing/horrifying for Brendan and Jay, my teachers/mentors/dear friends. Probably kind of like when your sixteen-year-old learns how to drive.
