Hitting line stretch at fifteen feet...
Hey everybody, I've been getting some PM's after my drunken post from last night. My comment about hitting line-stretch fifteen (15) feet above the water was not a joke.
I went stowed and took a two second delay. I was using a 42-inch non-vented ZP pilotchute. There were about five basejumpers who witnessed it. One was on the big landing area. One was on the beach. One was on the bridge and the last two were on the boat. There were also another 20 whuffo's standing at the side of the bridge. They got quite a show. Two of them drove down to the boat later to make sure I was allright, and to give me a hug for my mom.
I got a full gear- and pin-check right before I climbed over the railing, from an experienced jumper with over 180 jumps. According to witnesses, my PC throw was not sloppy. Yet somehow my pilotchute never inflated and never got away from my body. I kept falling and falling, and started to realize shit was wrong. Around the time land disappeared from my peripheral vision and all I saw was water, I realized I was going to die. Maybe I should have rolled on my back to clear a possible burble or reached back and do something. I suppose such words are always easy in hindsight, and it'll probably take a more experienced jumper to actually do such a thing. Maybe next time.
Interestingly, at this point, I was in a very calm and slow place. Emotions are gone, and the brain is processing thoughts at an amazing pace. There was no panic, no regret, no happiness. Just acceptance. It turned out to be a bit like Tom describes over here.
In reply to:
The third moment is quite rare. However, it is this third moment that makes me know that if I die BASE jumping, I will die in a perfect place. I tried to explain this to a new skydiver (not yet a BASE jumper, but with aspirations to do so) who knew one of our friends (his jumpmaster) who had died on a BASE jump. I explained it to him something like this: "I know that in his final moments, Skypunk was in the zone. I don't know how to explain this, but if you become a BASE jumper, you will know what I mean." Whenever I have experienced a problem in BASE (parachute malfunction, off-heading opening, over delay [and resultant impact], etc.) I have reacted in a Zen-like trance. I don't think. I don't even consciously act. I just AM. It all happens, and I just seem to be along for the ride. I have experienced riser corrections, toggle hangups, object strikes, even near terminal impacts, and still they all happened in a perfect place, a near Zen trance-state. I only emerge from that place well after the emergency has passed. D-Dog once describe this as “seeing God.” To me, it feels more like “being God,” in some, weird, sufiistic moment of universal consciousness. I know that if I die BASE jumping, I will be deep in the zone. Some people hope to die in their sleep, or while having sex. I cannot imagine a more perfect final moment than that deep, trance-like state. I am one of the few jumpers on earth to know this (having survived not one, but two accidents, both of which should have been fatal), but it gives me some comfort (some--I'd still prefer that I get to know our friends before they go in) knowing that Skypunk, Dr. Death, Cold Steel and all the rest of our fallen brothers (forgive the melodrama) died in this magic place.
Another weird thing was how slow the water seemed to be approaching. It is hard to judge height when you only see the brown surface of the water, but it actually looked like I could live if I braced for impact.
Which is what I did. At a very low altitude, I tucked my knees in and put my forearms in front of my face. One theory is that doing that may have actually cleared my pilotchute, and saved my ass. A split-second later my canopy opened. According to the people on the boat at that point I was as high to the water as my canopy was above me, which would be about fifteen feet. Another nano-second later I landed in the water.
The impact was hard enough to have caused death or at least serious injury if it had been over hard ground.
I quickly emerged from the surface, screaming "I'm okay!" Collin came running out from the trees. He was standing on the big landing area and had seen me disappear behind the trees without a parachute out. Clem and Denise were on the boat and they were amazing.
Instead of being all shaken up and shocked, they were laughing and applauding. At that point, that is the best reaction you can face. I was all shaken up and scared shitless myself, and you don't want to have a bunch of other people doing that too. You want smiling faces and trivializations about what happened. Denise or Clem actually said: "Risk it all..... for nothing!" which was so funny!
Thank you very much for a great boat-ride back to the dock. It was good being surrounded by you guys (Ted, Clem, Collin, Denise, Don) at that point.
Anyway, this post was to clear up some questions people have PMed me. It doesn't address the most important issue though. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?
Tom, Tedd and I discussed the accident a little more this morning and we have since learned that the way I packed my pilotchute can cause a hangup. I would say with 95 percent confidence that is what caused this. I have used this method on several stowed jumps with success, but there is a significant chance that the bridle can't feed out of the pilotchute before the pilotchute inflates, yet the pilotchute can't inflate because it's still close on your back.
I am in Twin Falls right now, and I want to first go and make some more jumps. When I get home, I will make sure I explain how NOT TO PACK A PILOTCHUTE. I will shoot some pictures, and maybe a video that shows how it can snag and you can actually apply significant force without it opening up.
I'm stoked I'm still here. This has been a great experience this early in my base career. It's about as close you can get to learning a lesson without actually dying. I always knew and accepted the risks of base, and I honestly think that I started base knowing what I was getting into. However, now that I've been in this place, the understanding has gotten to a whole new level.
I'm about to head out and do my first jump since this incident. I'm more nervous than on any of my previous jumps, even more so than on my first base jump. I'll have great and experienced people standing right next to me though.
Fortunately Cornische is sending me lots of incredibly good vibes. I had also put a tailgate on, so what could possibly go wrong? I'm going to put tailgates on my motorcycle, they totally make it safer. 
Damn, what a weekend here. Total and utter chaos. I'll have to write another post with all the stories. But first I'll make sure I post about my packing error when I get home.
Other interesting trivia about this incident:
- As I exited, Collin screamed jokingly: "Smoke it LOW!" I certainly did what he wanted. Low altitude smoking had been an ongoing theme this weekend. Nobody actually did it though, until I f'ed up.
- As I walked out on the bridge, I told some spectators that we were jumping on the other side and that it was better to watch from there. Because (quote): "If I die doing this, I better have a good audience."
