My A license stamp! Ordinarily it would be on my forehead, but I lucked out.

After two long years (with a 10 month hiatus in between), Bear and I have received our A licenses at last. It’s been a long journey, but completely and utterly worth it.

Skydivers are a curious breed. To call us adrenaline junkies would be over-simplification; of course, we are adrenaline junkies. Not many people would willingly throw themselves out of a plane two and a half miles above the earth. Over and over again. But the thrill of falling through the skies, of possibly getting one step closer to death—that fades within two or three jumps. Jumping is only really and truly scary the first time.

True danger lies in being complacent. When you’re complacent, you are less vigilant. When you are less vigilant, you allow more room for stupid mistakes. When you allow room for stupid mistakes, you may get injured—or worse, you may die.

What keeps us jumping? I have no idea. You can ask each and every one of us why we do it and you’ll get a different answer, but skydivers really are a certain breed of people. There’s something common to each of us that keeps us jumping and I’m not sure how to articulate it.

Only a small percentage of the human population would willingly allow themselves to be flung out of an airplane high above the earth with nothing but the vague hope that the parachute will save them. Of that small percentage, an even smaller number return to do it again and again. We joke and we josh and we tell each other that it’s like having a cocaine habit (…a cocaine habit may in fact be cheaper). The ridiculous things we have each done for this sport—for “one more hit”—are stories we tell when the beer light goes on the hangar and the sunset load is about to swoop the pond.

To date, the “ridiculous” things I have done for this sport include:

1. Calling in “sick” to work on a Wednesday to do my second and third tandems. Bear and I had gone down every weekend to the DZ to complete them, but every weekend it was pouring rain or completely overcast and therefore entirely unjumpable. (Thus began JJ’s long and antagonistic relationship with the weather.) I watched Weather.com like a hawk, saw the middle of the week was clear, and jumped for that hole.
2. Finding two random strangers to drive me down to the DZ while Bear was on a road trip to California. Bear and I managed to get most of our student jumps done quickly, but high winds on Memorial Day prevented us from graduating. Soon after, Bear was gone for a month to California and I was stranded in New York City without a ride. I met Ken and Derek, the loveliest couple ever, at a bar in Brooklyn. They had a car. I convinced them to go skydiving.

I relayed these stories to another skydiver on the ride up to altitude on my checkout dive and he threw his head back and laughed.

“Yep, that’s a true skydiver, right there,” he said.

Is that what makes a true skydiver? The willingness to do whatever it takes for that next hit?

For all that we liken our sport to an addiction (“nylon crack” is the phrase I prefer), I posit that it’s actually an anti-drug. Users often do drugs to “forget,” to slip into oblivion, to allow themselves to be overtaken by a haze. Before you cry “conservative foul!” on me, I’m all for the recreational use of drugs. Sometimes, it’s fun to lower your inhibitions. What’s alcohol but a drug anyway? But lower your inhibitions on a skydive and you’re a danger to yourself and to others. This will probably end up with your banishment from the dropzone.

Adrenaline sharpens our senses. It gives us control in high-stress situations. Skydiving, more often than not, is about control. Awareness of your body in flight gives you control over your freefall. Awareness of wind direction, strength, how it changes over different types of terrain, etc. gives you control under canopy. Understanding the physics of the canopy, experimentation with how it recovers from radical moves, etc. gives you control on how you land. This is, in many ways, an exceedingly mental sport.

Yet, we are some of the most laid-back people in the world. Perhaps you have to be, to keep cool in high-stress situations. Our relaxed personalities also make for great communities. Bear and I have been to our dropzone so many times when we haven’t been able to jump, but we’ve never minded too terribly. It’s fun to hang out. The best part is, even if you aren’t best friends with everyone there, you know that they’re always looking out for you, always making sure you’re safe, and always willing to teach. I do the same for any other skydiver “less” experienced than I. We all love to talk and teach and learn.

Oh, and another strange and curious fact about us skydivers?

More than a few of us are actually terrified of heights. (Myself included.)

Go figure, eh?

I will give a full-accounting of the A license checkout dive once I get my video. Will also give a full-accounting of how hilariously Bear and I didn’t accomplish our first 2-way. We are heading to the DZ tomorrow to see if we can’t work on some linked exits and getting level on our jumps. I may need to invest in a weight belt.

North Carolina was the furthest south I had ever been in the United States (excluding Disneyworld, Florida, which in all honesty, is not part of The South) and boy was it enlightening. Bear and I took the I-95 from New Brunswick, New Jersey, all the way down through Philadelphia (which has the highest number of billboards on the highway), Wilmington, Baltimore, Washington D.C. (where we took an accidental detour through the Capitol that delayed us for an hour and a half), and the entire state of Virginia, which seems to be the longest state ever.

We didn’t make too many stops, although Bear did request that we stop to eat at a Cracker Barrel. Cracker Barrel is apparently a theme restaurant that serves Southern cooking. I had never been in one before, but it did remind me a lot of Critter Country in Disneyland, what with the quaint rockers and wooden tables and vintage signs and paraphernalia all over the walls. Also, I had grits. Which are delicious. And fried okra, which are just…fried.

We were on the road in Virginia for over 4 hours, but we knew we had crossed into North Carolina when suddenly, all there was to listen to on the radio was country music, bluegrass, and Jesus rock. Now, I’m fine with country and bluegrass; in fact, I actually enjoy country and bluegrass. Bear, on the other hand, is not a fan at all, and neither of us were up to the Jesus music. North Carolina was gorgeous late at night; the woods and fields are wreathed in mist, although I will confess I kept hearing strains of dueling banjos from Deliverance in the back of my head.

I drove the last leg, which was fine as I got all my reading done while there was still daylight. I had two books with me: Sarah Wendell & Candy Tan’s (otherwise known as the Smart Bitches) BEYOND HEAVING BOSOMS and Maureen Johnson‘s 13 LITTLE BLUE ENVELOPES.

Review of BEYOND HEAVING BOSOMS by Sarah Wendell & Candy Tan

Beyond Heaving Bosoms by the Smart Bitches

So. I am one of the people who Just Don’t Get It, according to the Smart Bitches. It is true; I am not a reader of romance. To date, I think I’ve read…7 novels? I was indeed scarred by my first experience, although let it be known it’s not as though I didn’t try. (For the record, I enjoy Georgette Heyer quite a bit.) And I’m certainly not one of those people who disparage the genre as being “chick porn” or written for intellectually inferior women. My dearest, most darling Sofa is one of the smartest, most intelligent women I know and she has a penchant for anything by Linda Howard. I am sympathetic to romance readers; after all, I read for romantic plotlines in my books. I also understand what it’s like to be a devourer of commercial fiction that’s considered somewhat “less” than high-brow literary fiction. Case in point: my favourite genres are young adult and fantasy, but mostly young adult fantasy.

Despite my indifference to romance novels themselves, I have the utmost respect for the Smart Bitches. I can’t remember how or why I started reading their blog, but I’ve been a devoted follower for years. I love their sense of humour, their unabashed love for what they read, and their interesting insights into women’s place in society, etc. Their blog entries can span everything from scathing reviews to cover snark to silly YouTube videos to intelligent essays about publishing and feminism. Their book is less informal than their blog, and a bit more “academic” in its examination of the genre, but all of the irreverent wit that characterises their website is intact.

I found the anthropological theories they make for the history of the modern romance novel the most interesting (especially the sections pertaining to the Rape of the Heroine in Old Skool novels), although perhaps the funniest section is the “Choose Your Own Man Titty”. It’s the romance novel version of the “Choose Your Own Adventure” books and I had a fun time playing it. The best is the paranormal romance section, although I will admit to blushing on the subway reading those bits. I’m not by any means a prude (for heaven’s sake, I’m proudly holding a book in public that reads BEYOND HEAVING BOSOMS on the front), but…yeah.

This book has everything a nonfiction work could ask for: humour, intellectual insight, and games. Highly recommended, even—or perhaps especially—for non-readers of romance like myself.

Review of 13 LITTLE BLUE ENVELOPES by Maureen Johnson

13 Little Blue Envelopes by Maureen Johnson

I’ll confess that I keep wanting to write GIRL AT SEA, not 13 LITTLE BLUE ENVELOPES because they have similar covers. Poor Maureen Johnson; she’s been saddled with the Headless Girl curse that I loathe. I think this may be the reason I’ve avoided her books for so long. It’s unfair, of course, but come on, we really do judge books by their covers. In Johnson’s case, her earlier covers say to me: We are YA chick lit. Not that there is anything wrong with YA chick lit, but we imply that there is much agonising over boys and nail polish and looking pretty and backstabbing best friends between our pages. You outgrew this stage long ago (if you even had that stage). Even though I knew Maureen Johnson didn’t really write books like that, I avoided them all because of the covers. Granted, I’m not exactly the publisher’s target audience, so it makes sense that they don’t appeal to me.

The first book of Johnson’s I read is her most recent SUITE SCARLETT, which I adored. I meant to read DEVILISH, which is about a Catholic schoolgirl, but the only book of hers they had in stock at the Union Square Barnes & Noble was 13 LITTLE BLUE ENVELOPES. (To which I hear there will be a sequel?)

During her summer vacation, Ginny Blackstone finds herself on an odyssey throughout Europe, following a set of instructions written in 13 little blue envelopes by her unconventional Aunt Peg. The only glitch? Her Aunt Peg is dead. Regardless, armed only with the envelopes and whatever she can carry in one backpack, Ginny embarks on an adventure to unravel the mystery that is her aunt, finding hijinks and potential romance along the way.

That summary does no justice whatsoever to the book. None. It sounds more hijinky and less emotionally potent than it really is, although to be sure, there are hijinks aplenty. Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to be Maureen Johnson’s friend; I bet she’s the kind of person who will take you on crazy New York adventures like making you pants the Naked Singing Cowboy in Times Square or eating ice cream upside down on the Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park. Both of the books I’ve read include some sort of madcap madness. They are also both populated with strange and eccentric artists, generally of the theatre persuasion. Spencer Martin is still my favourite, although Keith Dobson is pretty hilarious. I mean, a musical about the corporate evil of Starbucks? It’s funny because it’s true; somewhere out there, some hipster has done something incredibly similar.

But despite the ridiculous things that happen, Johnson’s books are at the core about something emotionally resonant. In SUITE SCARLETT, it’s about family. In 13 LITTLE BLUE ENVELOPES, it’s a journey of discovery. While I liked 13 LITTLE BLUE ENVELOPES, I didn’t find it as compelling as SUITE SCARLETT, which I felt was more sophisticated. I couldn’t help but wish 13 LITTLE BLUE ENVELOPES was either more about Ginny’s self-actualization or more about the mystery of Aunt Peg (one or the other). Regardless, Maureen Johnson now has a new fan and I would wholeheartedly recommend this too.

I have been remiss in blogging, mostly because in the past week I’ve driven a total of 18 hours down to North Carolina and back and spent 15 minutes in a wind tunnel using all of the small muscles in my body. It’s easy falling out of a plane. The hard part is maintaining absolute control of how you fly.

Fortunately, this time I have obtained some video of my airtime that I will foist upon the unsuspecting public. Luckily for you, I won’t put up the entire 15 minutes. I edited together a “greatest hits” compilation, if you will.

Video is a great tool for skydivers because you can actually see what your body is doing in freefall. In many ways, I feel the sport’s two closest disciplines are yoga and dance. I’ve mentioned similarities to yoga before, but dance came to mind, especially after watching the footage. Laticia, my coach, looks so graceful in flight. (She was once a dancer.) I, on the other hand, am all over the place. I could benefit from a mirror to see what my body is doing, the way I used to observe my posture and alignment during dance. But since there are no mirrors in the sky, I make do with this.

Wind tunnels are another great tool for skydivers, mostly because now you have a frame of reference. On solo jumps, I have none. I could be moving a lot more than I think I am. (And I was.) The best part about indoor skydiving is the amount of time I have to correct my body position without distractions. On a jump, there’s always the altitude to keep in mind, canopy malfunctions, landing patterns, wind directions, etc. In the tunnel, there is just me and my coach for two minute intervals, which is twice as long as regular skydive.

I’ve learned a lot of about my body position. First, I have a very extreme arch. In later sessions I’m starting to flatten it out a little, but my first instinct seems to be to let my hips sink. Second, I have a wide stance and I ought to be more conscious of what my legs are doing. Third, I apparently don’t know what to do with my hands because I look retarded.

The most amazing thing about the tunnel though, is how much your body learns and adapts before your brain can even catch up. I’ve been dirt-dive prepped before; Laticia or Nathan will go over what my body is supposed to be doing and then on a jump I think about it and then do it. On my last coached jump, I had trouble with sidesliders, which is flying laterally side-to-side. Sidesliders involve flying with the knees, when previously, I’ve only ever had to worry about my arms. Adding both seemed to break my brain.

When I landed, I spoke to Laticia about it and she said, “It’s a Zen move. You think ‘go sideways’ and you do.”

Naturally, I was skeptical. But, lo and behold, in the tunnel, I started moving laterally by just thinking it. Honestly, I was doing things in there about which I was in complete disbelief as I was doing them. The shots of my face in the video are blurry, but you can catch a glimpse of astonished delight here and there.

All right, now onto the other things I meant to blog about this week…

As seems to be the tradition since I’ve reached “adulthood,” my natality seems to be a week-long celebration. Wednesday night I went over to Sofa’s apartment for an evening of Bones and wine coolers as we are wont to do, except she surprised me by taking me up to the roof of her apartment and wishing me a happy birthday as it turned midnight. We then proceeded to watch Bones until we passed out around 5:30am. She went to work, I stayed in her apartment and watched more Bones until I had to meet up with my friend Jess for lunch.

Russ joined us for Indian food at Tiffin Wallah on 29th and Lexington and then we enjoyed an absolutely gorgeous day walking around New York City. In the evening, hoards of people appeared at my door to go to the Astoria Beer Garden, where we had pitchers of a girly cocktail and the non-vegetarians indulged in some bratwurst. In my life I have been extraordinarily blessed with friends and I am grateful for each and every one of them.

This past weekend, Bear decided to hold his annual shorehouse party, so he and I and Katranna drove down to Brick Township to set up and wait for everyone else. It was a large turnout this year and the best part of Friday night was when Oz set off his leftover fireworks from the Fourth of July for my birthday as the rest of us sat on the roof.

Saturday we spent the day jetskiing and swimming in the bay, although the winds picked up later in the day, grounding us for the evening. We later went to the boardwalk at Point Pleasant and played DDR, rode the rides, and ate waffle ice cream sandwiches the size of our heads before we returned to the shorehouse for a game of drunken Trivial Pursuit as the most gothic and beautiful storm raged over the bay outside.

Sunday Bear, me, White-Harp, The Inimitable Bex, and Oz went down to the dropzone. Bex and Oz were going tandem, but Bear and I had hoped to complete our A licenses that day. As per usual, there was NO SUCH LUCK. Bear and I at least got one coached jump in before the winds picked up later in the day. Laticia and I practiced a two-way linked exit this time, which was actually a lot of fun, and some side sliders. Flying with my knees is something I have hard time wrapping my head around, but hopefully I can work on this in the tunnel. Bear and I are going to tunnel camp in Raeford, North Carolina next week and we are STOKED. Nathan even said we might be able to try some 4-way RW (relative work) in there. Yay!

As bummed as I was not to be able to get my A license checkout dive done (and filmed—Laticia would be filming me), it was an amazing week. 24 has gotten off to a good start.

Later, I also promise a review of NAAMAH’S KISS by Jacqueline Carey, which I devoured over the weekend.

The only comparison I can really make is yoga, which seems to be the antithesis of skydiving as a sport, yeah? But as someone who does both, there really is a clear connection. The only difference is, I suppose, that you are hurtling through the air at speeds in excess of 120mph (or more, depending on how big you are).

Bear and I gave Saturday, the Fourth of July, a skip at the DZ as his friend Splash claimed to be hosting a Whiffleball with PBR (gross) challenge. It never happened, so Bear and I spent the day watching The Twilight Zone marathon on SciFi SyFy. A good thing too, I suppose, as the DZ never got below a 200+ minimum jump restriction.

Sunday morning we got up bright and early and made it down to the DZ by 9am. We rented our gear for the day, manifested ourselves for a coach jump, and bought lift tickets for a fun jump. For once the weather gods gave me a respite and there were no winds. Huzzah!

Except little to no winds are almost as hard to navigate as high ones. On days with little wind, jump run is curved, which skews with my sense of holding area.

To explain, “jump run” is the line over the dropzone in which skydivers exit their planes. Jump run always runs upwind of the dropzone. The holding area is the patch of space also upwind of the dropzone to stay until 1000ft, at which point you begin your landing pattern.

One days where the winds are variable and practically nonexistent, jump run curves into a circle around the dropzone. First person down establishes the landing pattern. As I’m never the first one to land, I usually follow the example set by others. Except the others weren’t exactly paying attention to the rules established for myself and Bear and other novice skydivers. The windsocks were pointing in all directions with regards to direction, but from what I could tell, the other jumpers were landing crosswind. I was in the holding area I had mapped out for myself, but no one else seemed to care and everyone was ignoring the “don’t cross the runway below 1000ft” rule.

Nevertheless, I had a great skydive. Practiced centerpoint turns (in which one flies with the knees in addition to the arms—it makes for very fast spin) and more unstable maneuvers (my barrel rolls just seem weird to me—what happened?) before throwing my chute at 4000ft. I landed as I saw fit, which was upwind according to the windsocks, but because there was no headwind, it was a really fast landing.

As I was packing, I noticed that the line attaching my pilot chute to the d-bag was frayed. I let the rental store know, because it had also frayed through the kill line (…to long to explain here). This was when Laticia and Nathan decided to come up and tell us that we were manifested for the next load for coach jumps. I had to swap out my entire container and in my haste, accidentally attached my right riser to the container twisted.

The coached jump was fun. Bear/Nathan and Laticia/me went up in the Otter. Bear was doing his first swoop ‘n’ dock coached jump. Laticia and I planned one swoop ‘n’ dock before practicing side sliders. (Flying laterally instead of just “up and down” and around in circles.) Side sliders, like centerpoint turns, involve the knee. We were first out the door: Laticia went out first, I rocked back and forth once and dove out headfirst.

After I got stable, I scanned the skies for her. The most interesting part of skydiving the more I do it, is how my spatial awareness increases. I found her fairly quickly and tracked down to meet her. Swoop ‘n’ dock, a success! The side sliders were less so. I kept wanting to stick my knees out instead of down and there was something screwy about my alignment. So side sliders were a no-go. At 6000ft, we broke off and I tracked away, trying to roll my shoulders forward and flattening my arch. This sort of track is much more difficult than a simple arch ‘n’ dive due to the increased air pressure and I could feel myself wobbling a bit. At 3500ft, I waved off and pulled.

The riser twist? I had to look at it and decide very quickly weather or not I wanted to keep my main. It fulfilled three of the four “S”s: square canopy, straight lines (despite the twisted riser), and slider more than halfway down. Could I steer? I pulled right, then left, and then completed a flare. Yes; somehow, this did not affect my flight at all.

On the ground, I realised that our coaches have advanced me and Bear fairly quickly. Laticia in particular was always keen on me trying new things; I remember my first dive exit out of the Otter was on my fifth AFP jump (jump #8). Side sliders are not on the A license coaching curriculum.

“I don’t see why we should hold you back if you’ve got everything else down,” she said.

Our third jump of the day was interesting. As per usual, my skydive itself was uneventful (trying to practice side sliders, but with no point of reference, it’s hard to tell if I’m doing it right), but after I opened I had some trouble with my landing pattern. Mostly because the windsocks were pointed in every which direction, not to mention, no everyone was landing in the same direction either. I stuck to my original landing pattern, but ended up really far afield. I was about 10ft from the treeline when I landed

After I had gathered my canopy, I saw that other jumpers on the load were rushing toward the trees on the north side of the dropzone. I scanned the field for Bear, but he was nowhere to be found and he always lands before I do.

Uh oh, I thought.

Sure enough, my Teddy Bear was caught up in the first tree on the treeline about 20ft from the ground.

“Bear?” I called. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m fine.”

Once I ascertained he was uninjured, I called beer on him before walking back to drop off my stuff. The dropzone called the fire brigade and he was extracted before long, but not before a dozen people took photos and video. He was unhurt, which is the most important part. I can’t wait until the Williamstown Fire Brigade puts up pictures; they did last year when they had to retrieve another skydiver from a tree.

It did put a damper on the rest of our evening. Bear’s canopy was pretty beat up. I manifested myself for another coach, but ended up being unable to jump as I had to return my own gear by 7:30. I was so freaking close to getting my A license on Sunday. I had 24 jumps. Seeing my glum face, Laticia told me there were A license written tests, if I wanted to take it. Bear and I took the exams and passed. Now all we have left is one coach jump and a checkout dive! Yay! I can’t wait until Bear and I start flying together.

Next weekend, checkout dive. Also, video. And my birthday weekend. Everyone come on down!

I understand now why inexperienced jumpers such as myself shouldn’t fly canopies when it’s gusting so strongly; I had the weirdest experience coming down to land. I was demoing the Pilot 188 again and right as I was making my final turn into my upwind leg, instead of floating down, the wind picked me up at least 5 to 10 feet before dropping me. Thankfully I was high enough for my stalled parachute to reinflate in time so that I might stand my landing safely, but it definitely made me nervous.

My skydive itself was great; I practiced changing my fallrate and some unstable maneuvers. Bear and I are thinking of going to wind tunnel camp to get our flying skills honed so that one day, we might be able to do this:

It’s like he’s dancing.

Teddy Bear Burn the land and boil the sea, you can’t take the sky from me.
Bear’s Cousin Did you get a jump in after all?
No Taste WORST OPENING THEME EVER
Teddy Bear Yeah I got a jump in, and it was a great theme
No Taste Are you freakin kidding me? The theme was so bad, I think it’s the real reason the show was canceled! I’m pretty sure the ratings were low because when people would turn the show on, they’d watch the first bit think, “hey this might be pretty good” and then that theme would play, and suddenly the next thought is “oh jesus that’s bad, maybe gilmore girls is on abc family, i’ll watch that instead”
No Taste god aweful man.
Teddy Bear You are the worst kind of person

This past weekend was one of adrenaline rushes (whitewater rafting and skydiving) and the introductory excursion of Team Constant Vigilance: An Adventure Club.

When I was in junior high, my 7th grade algebra teacher Mr. Friedman formed what he called The Adventure Club (for which I drew a lot of cartoons and flyers and posterboards). It basically meant taking a bunch of 12-and-13-year-old kids on trips that often involved us shooting things at each other. The first trip every year was paintballing, which was generally followed by other experiences like rock-climbing, surfing, mountain biking, and skiing. The last trip every year was camping on a beach for two nights. I appreciated Mr. Friedman for many things (not the least of which was because he was the last teacher to make me understand maths), but he was the first person to awaken the adrenaline junkie within me.

Whitewater Rafting in the Poconos

Downriver by Will Hobbs

When Rachel suggested a whitewater rafting trip, I was all over it. I had always wanted to go whitewater rafting ever since I read DOWNRIVER by Will Hobbs. It was one of my summer reading list books between 7th and 8th grades (along with TREASURE ISLAND by Robert Louis Stevenson and other adrenaline-junkie books) and it totally made me want to be a juvenile delinquent just so I could go on these awesome adventure trips. These juvenile delinquents got to go camping, hiking, mountain-climbing, and whitewater rafting down the Grand Canyon for an entire summer! Why didn’t I lash out against my parents? (This was probably not the message my teachers intended me to read into it.)

Fortunately, I make friends with people who crave adventure as much as me. Rachel, Alex, The Inimitable Bex, Bear, and I went skydiving together. This same crew, minus Bear (who had orientation for some kids to whom he’s teaching anatomy) and plus Jen (another redhead to add to my collection!) went whitewater rafting together. There is an outfit in the Poconos with rapids up to Class III that seemed feasible. After some slight scheduling snafus, Team Constant Vigilance was on its merry way down to Pennsylvania from New York City at 6:00am on a Saturday.

Not a single one of us had been whitewater rafting before, although Alex and I had some watercraft and lifeguarding experience (him sailing, me kayaking and canoeing). Three of us (Alex, Bex, and me) were also former swim team members, so we figured we ought to be all right.

Heh.

In the very beginning, we were That Boat, the one with no control of its raft and no idea of how to work together as a team to get our vessel pointed in the right direction. As we floated past the other docked boats, one of the instructors was screaming at us to “Get out!”

So Rachel immediately threw herself overboard.

Later we figured that the instructor meant for one of us to get out and anchor the boat him/herself. Only when Rachel went over, the current swept her downstream faster than we could get to her. She managed to grab onto a branch and we got her back into our raft with a few pounding hearts. Her paddle, however, was lost.

It was recovered in some patches of still water downstream, but not after we managed to get through a class III rapid with absolutely no guidance. We rescued a swimmer from another raft. I’m afraid the instructors were little or no help whatsoever; they just handed us paddles and a raft and shoved us down a rapid with no instruction on how to steer, avoid rocks, or what to do if the boat flipped.

Thankfully, Team Constant Vigilance quickly got with the game and soon we went from That Boat to That Boat, the one sailing past everyone with confidence and ease. “Tchüß!” we called as we went overtook them. Both Alex and Bex are German and it was what they said to each other when they exited the plane on their skydives. The name Constant Vigilance arose from a comment Alex (our captain) said on our rafting trip. “Keep vigilant for rocks and other obstacles.” To which I immediately shouted, “Constant vigilance!” as Rachel, Jen, and I are huge HARRY POTTER fans.

I almost went over once, but I managed to tuck my toes into the side of the raft and grab the line. I appear to have an extremely strong instinct for survival in that my body reacts to high-stress situations without much thought. (I suppose this is why I’m suited for skydiving. Also, please see the hazards that happen to me in that sport.) I would kick ass and take names if my name were ever drawn for a Hunger Games.

I was in the water at one point, but it happened when our raft got stuck on a rock. I hopped onto the rock and gave it a good shove, only the boat took off like a rocket without me. Again, I managed to hold onto the line while the others hauled me aboard.

All in all, I found whitewater rafting an amazing experience, although a bit tame. Possibly because Class III rapids aren’t particularly dangerous, even if they require some skill to navigate. Admittedly, the biggest rushes I got during the ride was when something went wrong. I love jumping into action when shit goes south. Now, I would love to try Class IV and V rapids. Bring it on!

Skydiving After A 10-Month Hiatus

Not me, although I look like this (I hope) when I exit.

Monday, Bear had an unexpected day off of work, so we went down to the dropzone with the hopes that we would be able to jump. We tried the previous weekend, but the weather gods hate me and it was POURING RAIN. Yesterday, it was clear, beautiful, and sunny…with winds gusting greater than 18mph.

Bear and I arrived at the DZ right as it opened and gave our instructors Nathan and Laticia enormous hugs. We stopped around 18 jumps last year due to Bear starting med school. It was good to see them again and it was good to hear them talk about our flying skills with such pride and confidence.

“We’ve got to get you up to speed,” said Laticia. “There’s a group of jumpers I want you two to fly with. They’re pretty aggressive and they’ve been winning competitions and medals all over the place. Keep all the good ones together, yeah?”

Full of optimism, we rented our gear for the day and signed up for a refresher course in ground school as well as a recurrency jump. All things taken care of, we were manifested for the first load…

…and had to be taken off as the winds were gusting greater than 23mph.

When the first load landed, we understood why. It isn’t the wind speed that’s a factor so much as wind gusts. One of the tandems came down pretty hard and the jumper got injured. I saw a gust of wind suck the air out from the beneath the canopy, collapsing the parachute and stalling them about 10 feet above the ground. It’s not a fatal distance to fall, but depending on how you land, it can definitely be an injurious one. (I ought to know; I fractured my pelvic bone last year in a similar fashion.) At first there was an A license jump restriction, then a 50+ jump minimum, then a 100+ jump restriction.

Most of the rest of the day was spent getting our hopes up. We were manifested on Load 5 before we had to be taken off that as well. Our instructors also dropped the bomb on us; they got married. Bear and I thought they were joking. They weren’t. I’m still somewhat in shock about this.

Finally, around 5:00pm, the winds started to die down, but it was still riding that edge. Laticia shook her head and said if the wind gusts got to 19mph, we’d still jump, but if it got above 20mph, we’d have to come back down. (I’ve jumped in higher winds before, but that was when I was still in practice.) Manifested for Load 7, I was unaccountably nervous. It had been 10 months since I last did this; did I still have it?

We were the first out the door. I did an unlinked float exit and was stable fairly quickly. Apparently I must have been tense because I saw Laticia give me the signal to arch, which is something she’s never had to give me before. (I have a very extreme arch, so we used to work on flattening it out a little.) She made silly faces at me and we played around, doing some turns and having fun and I immediately relaxed and had a much better dive. The initial plan was to break off at 6000ft and then track until 4000ft before pulling.

Unfortunately, my left contact fell out of my eye around 6500ft.

I could see it stuck to the inside of my goggle, but I couldn’t see out of my left side. This is a slight problem because my altimeter is on my left hand. Regardless, I turned and tracked away in what I hoped was the right direction. It must have been lower than I thought because by the time I was fully open under canopy, it was 2000ft.

I pulled lower than Laticia at around 3000ft. She was actually open above me, which was a first. Also, I apparently tracked downwind, meaning I wasn’t in the right holding area either. Oops, a wonderful first jump back, eh? I gunned that thing as fast as I could toward the DZ. Thankfully I made it with plenty of room to spare and had an accurate landing.

Bear was manifested for Load 8 and he helped me back my gear in record time (between loads!). I bought a lift ticket and manifested for Load 9 for a fun jump. Bear had a good recurrency jump, but didn’t land in time for another dive, so I kissed him for good luck and went up in the next load without him.

Laticia had another student, but another fun jumper and I were going to spot each other on the load. We were about the same skill level (it was his 21st and my 20th jumps) and we were both pulling at 4000ft. A group trying a 6-way hybrid left first, then a two-way, and then Konrad (the other fun jumper). I watched him attempt a dive exit (it was good) and then I went out in a dive myself.

Nerves shaken off, I had a phenomenal jump. I was relaxed to the point of napping in the ride up to exit altitude and it just felt so good to be up in the air, literally free as a bird. I did some turns and a few backflips just to get back in the flow of things, but my first attempt at a barrel roll went all wonky. Somehow I ended up doing a corkscrew and came out of it headdown. I fixed that and my other barrel rolls were fine. Tracking (not downwind this time!) at 6000ft before pulling at 4000ft.

This time I was in my actual correct holding area as per the plan before I went up in my load, but the winds had shifted to come more from the west instead of the northwest. Grrrr. Nevertheless, it wasn’t a huge adjustment to make and I had another accurate landing. And because I had the most enormous canopy of the solo jumpers, I was the last to land (before the tandems, of course). Gaah.

Oh man, it’s so good to be back. So good. We’re going again on Friday and possibly on Saturday as well, for the 4th of July weekend. I invite everyone to come down, if not to jump, then to just chill and hang out. Yay!

Five more jumps before I get my A license! I’m going again on Friday (and probably Saturday); anyone want to join me?

P.S. Bex, Laticia and Nathan got married in October last year. o.O

…and the winds are gusting over 18mph. Which means I cannot skydive.

I must have angered the weather gods in a past life. There is no other explanation for this. They hate me.

Grrrr.

Bear and I doing our best Prohibition look. All Bear needs is a gun.

The closest to a full length photograph of my dress. What you can’t see: the train, my gold shoes, and my gold toenails. Bear wanted to wear a vest with his outfit, but we couldn’t find one in time. We totally forgot about the suspenders. :(

Bex channels her inner Greek Goddess.

The best thing about this dress? (Aside from the back that the colour is gorgeous and the cut flattering?) It was $36 at Banana Republic.

Close up of our makeup.

It took a long time to make my makeup seem subtle. I did Bex’s makeup as well. The false eyelashes? Made it through the entire night; I was impressed. Check out the scary red lipstick! Not visible in this photography: my cleavage. I cropped it out.

Bex and me at the Hyatt waiting for the open bar.

Another difference between med school and high school: free alcohol. It was fairly watered down but still, tons and tons of free booze!

Bex and Oz

The Inimitable Bex and the mayor of the first years Ozvaldo Zumba. Why is he the mayor?

Then we hit up the dance floor.

Because this popular stud can rip it up on the dance floor.

We're all cheering Oz, Oz, Oz, Oz!

The DJ was spinning some good tunes and for a while I could forget my aching feet.

Bear and me on the dance floor.

Bear and I were ripping it up on the dance floor, although I spent a good deal of the night worrying about my train. I eventually had it hiked up around my knees. Isn’t my Bear handsome in his hat and suit?

Dan looks so bombed in this photo.

The drinks were watered down but you can't tell in this picture.

After prom was over we went to a nightclub down the street and staggered home around 2am. My feet still ache, but man was it a good time. :)