Basejumper.com - archive

Al's great story about Frank Donnellan made me realize that maybe we need a history thread for "vintage" BASE jump stories. Something that will pop up now and again as BASE veterans who aren't regular posters blow through here . . .

I've been trying to come up with good one to start it off, and since the Park is the topic of late I'll kick it off there.

This is my first jump from El Cap and I had about sixty or seventy lower BASE jumps already. I'm with my then girlfriend (and still good friend) Anne H. and we wanted pictures but didn't want to risk any of the cameras we made a living with at the drop zone. We fabbed up a quickie Protect helmet system with a cheap camera and off we went. We had an easy hike up from Tamarack where we left the car and spent the night snuggling on top. I awoke about an hour before first light and wandered around a bit. I gloried in the fact that Carl Boenish stood here, right where I was now, and I offered up a silent thanks for all he did for us.

Geared up we waited until the very minute we could just make out the meadow below. We kissed and lovingly patted down each other's shrivel flaps. I walked to the edge where El Cap's brow curved downward and took a breath. Anne is behind and to my left and I hear her sweet voice whisper, "Are you ready, Darling?"

I look back at her glowing beautiful face and take it in like I may never see it again and say, "Okay Sweetheart, let's go." I'm not afraid and I know in the next few seconds something I'm never going to forget will happen. I ran down the incline and jumped when I couldn't keep my feet on the rock anymore. I started tracking and once locked in I turned my head to the side and Anne's right there and we are both in a full tilt boogie away from the wall. The need to shout for joy almost overcomes the need for stealth as I strain hard to go further and longer. I know, even then this was special and not something I would get to do a lot. All too soon El Cap Towers flashes by on my right and I stretch another second or so out of it before reaching back for my leg strap mounted pilot chute.

I check my good canopy and looked for Anne. She's under canopy and again right off to my side. I flew across the road and start carving over the meadow. The chill in the early morning air feels wonderful on my overheated body. I think to look for Ranger vehicles below but I really don't give a crap. They could go ahead and lock me up for five years and it still would be worth it.

We landed and stashed our gear, except for the camera, in the tree line. We walked out to the road hand in hand not really having to say anything. We stuck out our thumbs and the first car that passed picked us up. It was a very nice Japanese couple on vacation. They were all excited and in their best broken English they explained we are their first hitchhikers. We giggled at that in back of the car and we are both busting to tell them what we just did, but didn't. They took us all the way back to Tamarack, which was out of their way, and we thanked them profusely. There is a lot of bowing going on from both sides. I waved as they drove off, until Anne shouted, "Oh no, the camera."

I ran after them widely waving my arms but they disappeared around a corner still waving back at us from the windows. Oh well . . .

Anne, who went on to start the BASE gear company Basic Research, reached greater heights in BASE than I ever did but she'll still say if asked her most memorable BASE jump was El Cap with her man. I've grown to understand it was probably more the Cap than the man, but I still love her for saying that. And boy, I wish I was there the day that nice Japanese couple had that film developed . . .

NickD
BASE 194

Great initiative Nick, I love to read more of this stuff.

Unfortunately I'm too young to have any historical stories of my own, so I'll just back and listen. Just to give it a little nudge though, here are two threads that also contain awesome stories:

The best of Nick Digiovanni
Down and Out - A Base Story in Five Posts

And all of you old-timers and people with more than 500 jumps, share your greatest story!

awesome story!

Thanks for sharing Nick.

Next!?

nice story, you write very well.

Here's a story of a jump that almost got me. Before anybody chimes in with what I should or should not have done, I already know the error of my ways. Enjoy


Summer 1995,
I had the coolest job a skydiver/BASE jumper could ever want. I worked for Performance designs, the world’s largest and most respected sport parachute manufacture, and I was in charge of the west cost demo tour. Basically my duties were to drive around the country in a motor home, visit skydiving centers in almost every state west of the Mississippi, and allow jumpers at each drop zone to try our parachutes, free of charge, all in the hopes of wining their businesses.
As one might expect, the tour became my means of scouring the US in search of new BASE sights. When I could not find the sights on my own or they were too sensitive, I would call around to the various BASE manufactures and get numbers and names of locals to hook up with. This strategy worked and worked well but keeping my activities concealed from PD was paramount. After all, I didn’t want to up set the apple cart.

One Sunday afternoon, my partner Seth and I were finishing up a weekend at a DZ in Colorado and we decided to start our search for the object we would be jumping that week. We opened our newly acquired aircraft sectional that showed a nice 2000’ antenna tucked neatly away in an isolated corner of Nebraska. As luck would have it, it was on our way to our next stop. After a few hours of driving, we found our selves at the base of the tower. Fifteen minuets later, the elevator was running. Wasting no time, we both made two quick jumps that night before falling asleep in the van at the base of the tower waiting for sun to come up.
When the sun came up, we got busy.
It was when we landed from our second jumps that we came up with what can only be described as a hair brained idea of spectacular proportions.
Instead of wasting time packing our BASE rigs and going again, why not jump some of the skydiving rigs we had in the van? After all, the tower was 2000’ was it not? Hell, that’s almost a skydive. What could possible go wrong? I love hind sight.
Things went fine for a while. We’d take a leisurely elevator ride to the top of the tower and away we’d go. Once on the ground, we’d toss the recently opened rigs into a pile and grab another from the van. We made sure the rigs we choose all had large canopies in them. This we reasoned would be the safest. On the fifth jump I found out just how wrong we were.

It was our fifth jump of the day and Seth went first. As he fell away, he quickly became a tiny dot, barely visible against the ground below until his brightly colored saber 210 opened right on heading. He landed on the freshly plowed dirt below, and now it was my turn.

Sporting a fancy new Javelin J-5, complete with a PD210 main and a PD218R reserve, I launched. As I free fell, I caught sight of Seth standing below. I decided that it would be cool to track right at him and take it nice and low in order to give him the best visual if the jump. As I tracked straight for him, he grew larger and larger when suddenly I noticed that I could see he was laughing. I figured that was probably a good time to pull. Everything up to this point was going smoothly but that was about to change.
I reached for and pulled the pilot chute from its pouch and pitched it into the air. That was the precise moment that absolutely nothing happened. Wouldn’t you know it? I looked over my shoulder and saw that the pilot chute was not inflated. Of all the rotten luck…
Any way, realizing that I had no time to mess around, I went straight for the reserve rip cord handle. I pulled, and felt the familiar pop as the reserve pilot chute launched of my back. A split second later I was open. I looked up expecting to see my reserve canopy but instead I saw that my main parachute had finally decided to get in the game, but there was a catch. The canopy had severe line twists below the slider and, to make matters worse, it was flying straight towards the tower. There was no way I’d be able to kick out of the line twists before I spanked the steel.

Just then, I felt something tugging on my right foot. I looked and saw that the bridle of the reserve pilot chute had some how become entangled with my foot and out of the corner of my eye I could see the free bag falling away. I grabbed the bridle and attempted to pull it in before the canopy came out of the D-bag but I was not fast enough. The canopy came out of the D-bag and began to inflate. It was about this time that I noticed that I was getting very close to the tower and my line twists were not getting any better. With only one option left (and not a very good one at that), I quickly pulled the cutaway handle, taking the chance that the now inflating reserve might do a better job of saving my life than my main had been doing.
I dropped away from the main and under the inflating reserve and wouldn’t you know it, the damn thing also had major line twists below the slider, but this time, thankfully, it was flying away from the tower (finally some good luck). I had no time to kick out of the line twits before landing and landing was rough. Were it not for the freshly plowed dirt surrounding the base of the tower, I’m sure that I would have been injured.
I lay there for a moment stunned and took a quick mental inventory. Realizing I had survived, finally stood up began knocking the dirt out of my ears and hair when Seth came running up to me laughing hysterically. It took him a good two or three minuets to calm down just enough to say, “Well Kev, I gotta say, there’s never a dull moment when jumping with you”
Kevin
BASE 390

Thanks Kevin
I remember when Seth told me that story.
I think you told it to me as well.
Brings back really good memories brother.
Thats the tower that fell....right?

Seth allways had the best one-liners.


Great story Nick.

Yes it did fall and unfortunately took three men with it

Nick, Kevin: with reading like this, who wants to jump???????

My first jump... It's February, 1982. I haven't made a skydive in about 18 months. I've just come into town to visit with a friend and suggest that we visit the local DZ for a jump but after waiting for an hour watching the scudding low clouds realize a skydive is not going to happen.

"We could go jump off Wxyz. " I idly suggested. The reply was too quick and cool for me. "Yup. Let's go"

Now I'm starting to thinnk... How do I get myself out of this one?

We took our sliders and tied them to the connector links with pull-up cords then layed the lines in the bottom of the pack trays in figure eights and free packed the mains on top of the mess. I had a 1978 WonderHog with a Strato-Flyer and a Preserve III. Belly band, blast handle 28" pilot chute. All the while we were guessing what would make a good BASE pack-job. We really had no idea and all I could think of was... How the hell am I going to get myself out of this one?

Mid day on Sunday. Low cloud base. 1500' tower. Large, Brand X jumpsuit. Four hours after starting we're at about 1450' and my knees are knocking like castinets. (They still do) I have to wait for eons to reach that inner calm that lets me release my vise-grip on the steel. The clouds are coming down and we gotta go! Aw Shit! I leaned out and let go.

I took about a nano-second of a delay and waited forever for a canopy.

It ain't much of a story but that's what most of us who had heard of BASE and hadn't been tutored by anyone got into it at the time. We soon found that the heat would come if we went during the day and started to go at night adding to the thrill. Foggy days were OK and some times it wouldn't burn off so you had to go off into the unknown but at least we knew we hadn't been seen.

Get Mad Dog to tell you about his first jump!

jon

Well, I guess not too long after that(1995) and maybe even before that time!??!!??! I saw my first BASE jump up close and personal!! It had been burning in me already for quite some time when a friend called and said that some jumpers from the States were to be passing through that he knew and wondered whether I wanted to check it out!! DUH!! Of course I was jacked to see this first hand so I showed up at the spot I was told to go to at 4am-ish. The jumpers were already on the tower when I arrived at the "invisible van" parked n the side of the road.
The object is right in here in the city and stands about 800 feet high. I could see their (2) silhouettes against the sky through the binoculars and remember a feeling of such excitement just being there!
As the dawn broke one of the jumpers walked out 8-10 feet balancing on a piece of steel just a few inches wide. He walked out to the point where the guy wires attach and stood there. Then his arms went out and up...that 45 degree angle and he held them there for several seconds and then......he jumped and it looked so slow, calm and wonderful. Then the reality as the opening sound hit the ground......KA-BAMMM!!! I was shocked! I had no idea how noisy a slider down jump would be in the crisp, cool morning air. That jump sticks with me very much and always has! That jumper was Kevin McGuire!! Thanks Kevin! That was a riot! Do you remember the cliff I showed you first as we drove towards Banff?? You guys were bagged and didn't think it looked too promising. Spence (587) would open it a few years later and it is regularly jumped these days.
Anyway, just a story from 10 years ago that is still vivid and puts a smile on my face!
Here is a pic of that cliff Kev!

Looks like we might need a romantic BASE thread.

If I remember rightly I read about Nick putting together a book on BASE history. Has it been published? If not, can anyone recommend a book that covers BASE history? - preferably one readily available.

I don't think Nick's book has hit the stand yet. But I'm in for a first edition, for sure.


There's not really a good BASE history book.

Pretty much the only two things that have reached print are BASE 66 by Jevto Dedijer, and Groundrush by Simon Jakeman. The only one that's still in print, and easy to acquire is BASE 66. Both of those books are "one man's experience" books, though, rather than historical surveys.

The best encapsulation of the history I've seen easily available is the History Section of the Apex-Moab Library.

There are also several other interesting historical bits floating around on the web, which I haven't got time to dig up. Perhaps others will post some links. You might also have a look at NickDG's historical video lecture, which is on the Skydivingmovies.com server.

Hope this helps.

Nick, your public is eagerly waiting.

I'm still working on it!

Jakey's Groundrush can be had here:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/.../202-3211624-6820659

You can D/L BASE 66 here:

http://www.diesel-ebooks.com/cgi-bin/item/0595783090

NickD
BASE 194

Thanks kindly Tom and Nick.

Groundrush link takes me to a page telling me that there is a bug in my browser (IE - go figure). Link might be user specific (otherwise I'll take Mr Gates off my Xmas card list).

Edited to add: BASE 66 also appears to be available from Amazon (uk)

I haven't been able to get a hold of Ground Rush yet, but I recomend BASE 66 ! it'll make your palms sweat!
~J

Come on people. Lets hear your stories. Give it up

I'm going to keep bumping this one until some ponies up with a story. Perosnally I don't even care if your sories are vintage or not. If it's cool, then I want to read it. Can I get an Amen?

Nick~

Do you have anything on this site...or will it be in your book....The GREAT feature article you did for the San Diego Reader?

As I recall that was the ONLY feature story they ever PAID anyone real $ for?!

I still have a few copies in a box in storage somewhere...but would love to read it again w/o
having to fight the roaches to get to it!

Does that go for me as well? I've been chastised for writing essays, so I have to be careful.

lay it on me

I give you an AMEN, and will raise you a WITNESS

Reverand!

This one isn't vintage, but I'm stuck here in iraq and bored so I'll write it.
It was my very first building jump. My buddy and I were planning on jumping an A, but the winds happened to be perfect for a recently opened building. It had been 2 or 3 weeks since the winds had cooperated for this building. We drive to the site and park in a near by alley. Roll on into the building and take the elevater to the 19th floor. Then enter the stairwell that says "No roof access". we make our way up the stairs and into the generator room without detection. The engines are running so loud its hard to hear yourself, but I could still hear my heart pounding like crazy. we go through the generator room and into the next room. Out of nowhere a worker comes up from behind us. At this point I think "well looks like I'm going to jail tonight", but that didn't happen. My buddy starts making up some lame ass story about how we where looking for his little brother and we where playing hide-n-go-seek and it worked. Which is amazing to me because we both had are stash bags on. The worker was hispanic and I don't think understood what we where saying. He told us to leave and I just thought we would role out and go jump that A, but the worker walked away and left us in the room. we ran outside, ran up the ladder, and hid behind an air vent on the roof. At this point we where both freaking out. We waited about a half an hour and decided that we weren't busted and geared up. PC in hand walked to the corner of the building and stood there for what seemed like an eternity waiting for traffic to clear. Finally, no cars, no wind, just me my awesome buddy and the edge of the building. I jumped pitched opened on heading turned 90 right and landed in the middle of the road. I started packing up and I heard my buddy open up. He had a 90 left and was bringing it back around when he clipped a light pole with his left stabilizer. I watched him start swinging. I dropped my gear and started running towards him. As I got closer I noticed that the canopy was blowing freely. He had cut away and fell 15 feet to the ground cracking his heal bone. Then ran down the wrong alley and jumped 2 or 3 barb-wire fences with a broken foot. I ran back and grabbed my gear. We met up at the car and took off. His Flik with about 40 jumps forever gone. I was super bummed about his canopy, but he just was pleased I got my building. That is what its about. Shit happens, but he was still thrilled about the jump and that I finally got my building. I will never forget that night for the rest of my life. The ups and downs and spending time with a good friend, who rather than be upset about a lost canopy, was just happy for me getting my B. that is what BASE is all about. The experiences and the friendships you build with each other.

Bryan
BASE 943

Great story. Proof once again that stories don't need to be vintage to be cool. Thanks and keep them comming.


What you are about to read is a message I sent to someone about telling their story. I'm posting it here so that maybe it will inspire others to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboards.
-----------------------------------------------------------
I really like reading other peoples stories. If you haven't already, then you should write more of your stories down. Hell, the best writers in Hollywood could not make half the shit that we as BASE jumpers have been through.
I have written many stories and I've noticed that most of them involve some kind of near death experiences, that when looked back upon, are actually very funny. How twisted it that?
I've got several more stories that I intend to post but like you said, they can be kind of embarrassing. Particularly when so many in these forums prefer to project images of perfection rather than humility.
Oh well, Fuck um.
The way I see it, no one has the right to laugh at anyone else until they can first laugh at them selves. Besides, I write more for my children and grandchildren than I do for my peers in these forums.
Kevin

It's not vintage and nothing super spectacular happened but it's the story of one of my most favourite jumps so far.

Me 'n Kiwi Bennie, are halfway through a two week European BASE trip. Driven my van from home in Empuria’ to the Swiss valley via the big gorge in SE France and the big wall in the French alps. I scared the poo out of myself, and Bennie, with a 3 sec canopy ride in the gorge and we’re both on cloud nine after some spectacular jumps in stunning locations, but the best is yet to come.

Sitting in the Horner drinking beer and trying to chat to the Danish barmaids (getting no where by the way) listening to the ‘no shit there I was’ stories from the other jumpers, a nice place to be…

A couple of Dutch guys and a dodgy South African ;) mention that they are going to try to jump the well-known fungus the next morning so I ask if we could tag along. I don’t think they were too keen to start with but after a couple of beers they agreed.

On the 7 o’clock train to the glacier station we got the first glimpse of the wall, the weather was perfect

- Bollock$, run out of time to finish the story, can’t write for $hit anyway so I’ll show you the piccies instead:

Mike

At Kevin's request, here is my essay. Blame him if you feel I'm polluting the boards. My apologies to Nick for hijacking his vintage story thread with such a fresh story.

While this story happened exactly as written, I cannot confirm that it was me who this happened to.

I decided to write it in second person perspective. Can you tell I'm a Chuck Palahniuk fan? Too bad I'm a shitty writer. Credit to those who actually read it to the end. Go play outside!

---

Bingo Twistle, Seven Q's Bongo and the plan in between...

You are at the airport in a city you've never been before. Your plane landed twenty minutes ago for what is supposed to be a five day business trip. Unknown to your co-workers, your suitcase contains more than fresh undies, some clothes and a toothbrush. Your helmet, body armour and kneepads barely fit in. Earlier, the airport security officer asked you about the contents of your carry-on luggage. The sweat crept up your back, but he allowed you to pass after you whispered something about a parachute and skydiving. A thorough inspection could easily have ruined everything.

The plan had been formulated four days earlier. Weeks of discussion had transformed a mission impossible into a scheme so brilliant that only the best would understand. On Zipday we flooz the bingo twistle. Then rest maybe grap dingo chomp chomp. Xanadu, flipmode squash on seven Q's bongo.

Your colleagues are getting in a taxi to go to the hotel. You tell them you're having lunch with a friend first and will catch up later. One phone-call to your accomplice and minutes later you are picked up from the airport. Cursing the traffic, you look out over the vast city landscape. In the distance you see a crane. You ask your friend how high he thinks it is. He says you can find out yourself. The crane is in the neighbourhood of your hotel. The plan hasn't started and already you are thinking of ways to accomodate this new potential.

Four hours and a lunch later, you finally make your way through city traffic and approach the hotel. The crane is no longer on your mind when suddenly you turn around a corner and it is right there, in your face. You put your nose against the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the beam. Your head swivels in all directions looking for potential landing areas and getaways. Suddenly you lunge forward into your seatbelt as the car screams to a halt. "We're here", your friend says, "this is your hotel."

Dumbstruck, you can't believe that the first object you spot in this city turns out to be only two hundred yards from the hotel you are staying in. Blaming fate, you decide that the plan will have to make room. The car is parked and the two of you walk over to the object to laser it and scout for landing areas. The tip of the beam hangs right over a busy six lane street. Counting the number of stories in the building, you estimated it static-linable. Now you're looking through the range-finder and can't believe the magic number written on the LCD display. It's your hard deck; your limit; the height at which you start thinking about turning that static-line or PCA jump into the definition of base jumping. You can go and throw.

Fast forward two days. Part of the plan has been accomplished and the letter B is now officially yours. Unfortunately, your partner in crime pulled a muscle on this jump and he decides to rest for a few days. Meanwhile you spent some time with colleagues satisfying the business trip's intended purpose. Coming back, you walk into your hotel room and the stash-bag catches your eye. You dump its contents onto the floor and start looking around the room. There is barely room for line stretch, but you decide it's not an obstacle, it's a challenge. Fifty minutes later your old personal record for packing in tight places is shattered and you put the rig into the stash-bag.

Your friend is too sore to jump but he generously offers to ground-crew. There is no wind, the street seems quiet enough at night and the crane is oriented exactly right. The plan quickly emerges during a delicious sushi dinner, and you decide that next time you're in this city, the crane will be gone. Now, or never.

Just ten minutes after midnight, a car stops at the back of the building site. The door opens and a dark figure carrying a bag appears. He makes his way towards the fence while the car drives around the corner. Quickly but silent the figure hops over the fence and dashes towards the shadows. Nobody had a chance to see him, and city life continues as if nothing happened.

Hiding behind some piles of brick, you take your helmet out of your stashbag and put it on. Next, you grab your cellphone and call groundcrew. He's only a block away, and yet this phone-call is routed from one country to another and back, making for a very expensive long distance call. You stick your cellphone in between your head and helmet where it allows you to talk with both hands free. Try that with a radio. One of these days you will buy a proper headset, you promise yourself.

If people would have any interest in building sites and cranes, they could notice a person climbing up the ladders. The bottom hundred feet of the crane are basked in a sea of light. Big halogen lights brighten that side of the building, and the climber seems to make haste to get into the darker section as quickly as possible. Fortunately for him, people prefer staring at the ground, avoiding contact with other people as much as possible.

Closer to the top of the crane, you start worrying about the cabin. It is blocking the entrance to the beam and unless the hatch is open, you have to climb around it on the outside of the crane. You'd be wearing your rig in case you fall, but an unstable exit that close to the building won't ever classify as a forgiving jump. You give the hadge a little nudge and it seems to move. Pushing harder, the hatch opens up and you sneak your way into the cabin. Shielded from the outside world this is a great place to gear up. Almost ready for the final stretch, you take a break to suck in the view. Overlooking a city you have never been to before, three hundred feet above the ground in the middle of the night, it feels familar. A thousand miles away, you suddenly feel at home.

What you are definitely not familiar with is the beam of this crane. As you climb through the second hatch on top of the cabin, you see your worst nightmare come true. What you had already suspected from the ground becomes a reality when you are frantically trying to find some sort of catwalk. Instead, all you see is a thin rail that allows a platform to wheel out to the end. Unable to use this platform now, you are going to have to climb along the rail itself. This means side-stepping on the outside of the beam, holding on to metal structures too thick for your hand to fully wrap around.

You remind yourself that this would be a breeze if it were only three feet of the ground. You remind yourself that you should always keep three points of contact, and only move one limb at a time. You remind yourself not to look down, but then realize you thrive on staring into the gaping void that lies underneath any exit point. Suddenly cheerful, you share this information with your groundcrew and ask him not to disturb you for the next ten minutes. This requires total focus.

Imagine a couple, walking hand in hand along the boulevard. They are on their way home from a visit to the theatre, enjoying the warm summer night. He would rather take a taxi, but she insists that the full moon night is too romantic to pass up on. They just bought a house and they expect their first child in a few months. Every friday he plays tennis with his boss and she is trying to decide what color to paint the baby room. Nothing can possibly disturb this beautiful night. They're talking about their hopes and future. She reflects on the meaning of life and the infinity of the universe, and both of them look up towards the stars.

Seeing the man make his way towards the end of the beam, their first thought is this has to be a suicidal maniac. Looking more carefully, they notice he is wearing a helmet as well as some sort of funny backpack. It doesn't take long to register. On a recent trip to Australia, they had seen an episode of Sixty Minutes about base jumpers. This must be one of them. Now a witness to such an experience, the meaning of their life seems more complicated than ever. What motivates a person to climb along the beam of a crane in the middle of the night? Is gravity so rewarding that it transcends the risk and effort?

Something in the women starts protesting. The man feels it too. Every cell in their bodies panicks wildly, telling them how troubled this jumper must be. This stunt resists everything the couple believes in, and they decide they want no part in it. The imaginary couple walks on into the night.

Meanwhile, in a world that consists of only two hands, two feet, a metal structure and a three hundred feet gap, you feel more alone than ever. Oblivious to the people walking underneath, you make your way towards the end of the beam. Arriving there, you find yourself on a small platform no more than two feet squared. You get in touch with your groundcrew and explain to him you are about to do final gear checks.

You reach back to check your bridle and velcro and notice your right flap feels weird. You realize that your overzealous desire to prime your velcro has come to haunt you at the worst possible time. Standing on the tiniest of platforms with hardly any railing, you now have to take off your rig to close the right flap.

Five minutes later you put the rig on for the second time that day. You take out the pilotchute and route your bridle along the velcro on your shoulder. Meanwhile, your groundcrew tells you he has put the tailgate of his truck down. After your canopy opens, he will pull out into the street, blocking the lane you land in. You will then jump onto the back of his truck and drive off.

Behind you, the street makes a turn into the distance. Just as a car comes into view, you start counting. No more than 23 seconds later the car is exactly underneath you. As long as no new car appears on the street when the last one drives underneath, you'll have a 23 second gap to jump, fly and land.

Your groundcrew, friend, accomplice and partner in crime tells you to have a good one. You tell him that you have no regrets and that you'll see him in a few minutes. You then hang up the phone, take it from between your ear and the helmet and put it in your pocket. Your toes move to the edge of the platform as you keep looking over your shoulder to find a gap in between traffic. You pass up on several promising opportunities. Every time you're just about to go headlights appear in the distance, ruining your chance to jump. Fifteen minutes pass and you are wondering if your groundcrew may think something is wrong. Then suddenly you notice the white van driving underneath you. You look back over your shoulder and see that no other car has appeared yet. Is this it? No time to think! One last glance around to see if there is traffic anywhere, and then a countdown.

3.. 2.. 1.. CYA!

You leap off the edge with your eyes on the horizon. A nice stable exit and less than a count later you pitch your pilotchute. Your hands start reaching up in anticipation for the risers while your head moves down to give your eyes a peek at the asphalt below you. As groundrush starts settling in, you hear the comfortable sound of velcro ripping apart. A split second later you find yourself under a perfectly flying canopy, on heading. In front of you an empty road ready to be landed in. Behind you, momentarily blinded by the headlights, you recognize the truck of your friend.

You flare and run out the landing, quickly trying to pull the canopy down to the ground. You bundle it up as the truck pulls up besides you. You throw the canopy in the back of the truck and jump on. Just as you duck for cover, you notice the car in the corner of your eyes; police!

Yelling to your friend that he should get the hell out of here, you look over your shoulder to see the police car turn around in pursuit. The world around you dissapears as images of arrests and jail start exploding in your head. Is this still a game? Is this still worth it? Will this be the last jump with this gear? What about the business trip? Hell, what about ever setting foot in this country again?

"Run into the hotel!" your friend screams, bringing you back to your senses. Suddenly jerked back into reality, you notice you are in front of the hotel lobby. You quickly jump out and make a run towards the door.

The hotel lobby personnel is having a night like any other. Some chit chat with guests, helping people with their luggage, and the occasional valet parking. It's not busy tonight so some of them sit down in the lounge enjoying a coffee. Seeing the door thrown open violently and the madman appear is the last thing they expect. "Press fourteen! Press fourteen!" the man screams as he dashes towards the elevator. The man is wearing a full face helmet and carries what seems to be a parachute. Too shocked to do anything, the lobby personnel asks: "Did you just jump off a building?" Just before the elevator doors slide shut, the man confirmes: "Yeah, and don't worry; I'm a guest here."

Breathing heavily, you understand that going to the fourteenth floor is no longer an option. You just told them you'd go there. Randomly, you pick seventeen and consider your options. Your own room is on fourteen and staying in the hallway is too dangerous. There is only one other room you have access too. Your company reserved an extra room on the seventh floor, meant to be used for after hours lounging. You know it contains a fridge with beer and you hope that your colleagues are already in their own rooms, sleeping. Coming out of the elevator, you make your way to the stairwell and run down ten floors towards room 704.

You put the key into the reader and open the door. You walk in and you hear the familiar sound of a gramophone needle screeching over a vinyl record. Two seconds ago, at least twenty people were talking loudly, playing poker, watching television, drinking beers. Now, everybody in the room is completely silent and staring at the door. No wait, at you. Apparently, not everybody had gone to bed yet.

The first words uttered from a stammering co-worker: "Are you being chased?" You have now taken off your helmet and the look on your face explains the story better than any words can. "Yeah, sort off," you shrug as you throw down your gear and make your way towards the fridge. As you crack open a beer, questions start pouring in. You try to answer, but all you can think of is your friend who, by now, must be hand-cuffed and legs spread over the hood of his truck, getting padded by a police officer.

Minutes later, somebody knocks on the door. Your heart skips several beats as you push your gear out of sight and hide around the corner. A colleague opens up and hears a man ask a question. Recognizing your friend's voice, you turn around the corner. You're impressed by your co-worker who is trying to protect you by saying: "Who's asking?" You tell him it's okay, looking at your friend with a puzzled look.

...The cops pulled over besides me laughing hysterically. They must have seen the entire thing judging from the look on their faces. They never even got out of the car. All they said over the speakers was: "Sir, you can't have people ride on the flatbed of your truck. That's illegal in this city!" and then they drove off...

You can't believe it. You raise your arms into the air feeling the weight fall of your shoulders. You scream of joy and you hug your friend to celebrate the great ending of another adventure. Suddenly you notice another ackward silence. You turn around and for the second time you stare into twenty astounded faces. Realizing you owe them an explanation, you walk over to the fridge to grab another beer for your friend. You sit down and talk.

Fast forward six days. The rest of the plan worked out perfectly. You traveled to Xanadu to do a flipmode squash and obtained the seven Q's bongo. This got you the letter A, completing the word. Four nights in an unknown city, three different objects, two letters and one amazing story.

You find yourself in an office. You have the weekly meeting with your boss and discuss the recent business trip. It's been a great trip that was succesful for the entire team. Superlatives fling back and forth and yet you notice a certain unease. "Well," you hear him say: "there is one thing I need to discuss."

...we think that your base jumps are very cool, and we urge you to keep doing what you love. However, we do ask you to please leave your parachute at home during business trips. It is a liability the company can not afford. That said...

...that night you came running into the hotel room was unbelieveable! I don't think I've ever seen anything like it before...

You walk back to your desk. You sit down and notice the picture attached to your monitor. It's a picture of yourself, just as you're about to leap of a bridge.

And then you smile...

That is very cool...please continue....

Ok jap....thats definatly a 30 minute episode for a TV special....excellent .......

Fucking great one. I especially liked the part about bursting into the room full of unsuspecting co- workers.

>>It's not vintage and nothing super spectacular <<

That's just a matter of time . . .

NickD
BASE 194

... don't forget Nick - I have a boxful of transparencies waiting to be posted that tell, in pictures, the story of the very first modern UK BASE jumps. Address please!! PM me.

If you're going to trust these to the post, please get good copies made 1st.

I'm positive I'm not the only UK jumper that'd be mad keen to see them at some point.

Thanks for the story in the other thread, I can picture Ian M making his 1st BASE jump smoking a cigarette.

[Kev]: Outstanding story, mate. There have been some great stories from some great people here recently & yours was the best of the crop to me. You got to have more where that one came from, though. Come on big fella, you got to have plenty of time to be tapping on your keyboard if you ain't jumping at the moment.

[Jaap]: Brilliant. Certainly up to your usual high standard, both in terms of quality and word count.

story number one

time = early 1983
place = L.A.
site = a bank building under construction, the baby of two similar buildings.
gear = a 1978 wonderhog a Gargano Spirit, ( 220 ft 7 cell ), with a sail slider in a bag, skydiving throwout bridle and PC.

It was my first Building jump and I was a bit concerned about the choice of gear, so I drove over to Carl and Jean’s and asked Carl, “ Hey what do you think about me jumping Baby ******* with a Spirit in a bag?”
Carl, “sounds good to me, let me know how it works out”.

So a friend drops off me and ex-patriot Brit, Mike Mc. and we start the climb up the construction stairs.
Even though I had recently left the Marines and I thought I was a tough guy, I was quite fried when we stopped at about floor 42 or 43.
Ever climbed 43 stories with 25 pounds on your back, in the dark?
Amazing how noisy those stairwells were.

We sat around for a bit to let the sweat dry as we hung our feet over the edge and enjoyed the downtown LA life @ 2am.

Finally we had screwed up the courage to exit. Mike went first and all went well. I followed and…………………………………………………… things did not go so well. After a short delay, I opened 180° off heading, ( imagine that), and not far at all from the building. I was on the rear risers hard to stall the canopy which still swung me out towards the wall. I tucked up and hit the building HARD, fortunately between the windows, with both feet.
I’m alive writing this because just as the nose of the canopy touched the wall it was flying backwards and I was able to turn away, pop the brakes and land on the street.

Unfortunately the story does not end there.

Upon landing I was greeted by two BIG black security guards with big baseball bats who said. “don’t move boy, you’re under citizen arrest”.
I did not really care. I was alive and unhurt.
The LAPD came and were forced to take me to Parker Center because the building landlords wanted to start busting people to dissuade activity for liability reasons. The police were very cool. They let me field pack my gear in their hallway and stashed my gear in waterproof bags.
They also kept me out of the drunk tank general population.

I was eventually charged with Criminal Trespass. it cost me about $250 and 80 hours of public service duty which I spent filing books at the Inglewood Public Library.

I’m glad we know a bit more about gear nowadays.

be safe
or
be smart

kleggo

Damn those medeling do gooders. Great story.

A friend of mine at our dropzone gave me this story that he wrote circa 1982. The canopy was a Stratocloud packed slider down into a skydiving rig with a d-bag.

----------------------------------------

Antenna Tower Jump

During last year's Freeze Fest weekend at Pelicanland-Drop Zone in Ridgely, Maryland, Madman Will, (who was one of the first 40 jumpers to earn a BASE number), treated everyone who was interested to a two hour video show on BASE jumping. Having made one base jump from the New River Gorge Bridge, I was quite interested. The video blew me away. After watching it, I mentioned to Will that I would like to jump off an antenna tower. That was all he needed to hear. Early Sunday afternoon, after Will and I had spent all we could afford on fun jumps, we decided to ride out to [city], [state] in search of an antenna tower 1,000 feet high. After discovering not only one but two towers, both about 1,000 feet A. G. L. and jumpable, we decided to go for it on Monday. On Monday morning, I helped as the Madman very carefully packed the chutes for the event. It took approximately three hours as he explained the special technique of packing for a tower jump. Finally we were ready. Terry O'Malley (who is a member of the CRW team Jump-Street) went along to film the event.

As we drove up to the first antenna tower, we noticed that the landing area was ideal because the tower was in the middle of a field. Unfortunately, there was a guard there. Knowing that at the other tower only one side was suitable for jumping because of tall trees, we waited to see if the guard would leave. After waiting about 30 minutes, we were so pumped up we decided to go check out that other tower.

When we arrived at the second tower, there was no ground wind at all. Hoping that the wind at altitude was blowing in the same direction the clouds were moving, we started putting on our gear. I was all psyched up until I climbed about 100 feet. By the time I got half way up, I was so exhausted I even said, "I would be glad to pay six dollars for 3,000 feet." Finally, after about two hours of climbing, I made it to the top. Will had been paitently waiting for at least 20 minutes before I reached the top. Exhausted from the long climb, I sat and rested awhile, enjoying the view. There was a brisk, cool, breeze blowing in the direction we had hoped. After about 5 minutes of rest I could tell Will was getting a little impatient, so I said, "Let's get ready." Will wanted to go off first, and got no argument from me. We checked each other's gear one last time, then he climbed over to the launch area, which was one of the metal rods of the tower. He then signaled down for Terry to start the camera rolling, and said "Ready-Set-Go". He did a perfect five second delay--stable all the way. One second after I saw him pitch out his pilot chute, his canopy opened with a loud "Whapp." I took a deep breath, and climbed over to the launch area. I heard myself say, "Oh, Shit" and watched as Will landend.

Feeling a little more at ease after seeing Will land safely, I yelled down to Terry to point the camera up at me. I took one more big hit of oxygen and said out load, "Ready-Set-Go." Looking up as I pushed off into a free-fall, away from the tower I went. Less than two seconds after I jumped I went slightly head down, and could see the tower as I zoomed down along side of it. I could feel my speed increasing rapidly with every second. I pulled up into a stable position and continued to fall for another two seconds before I pitched out my pilot chute. "WHAMMO !!!!". The pack job worked like a charm. After a brief canopy ride I was safely back on the ground, I could have climbed back up that tower in less than 15 minutes. Wow !! What a rush !!.

Many thanks to Terry O'Malley for climbing up about 600 feet to film us. I wouldn't have done it without Madman Will's expertise. I can hardly wait to jump off the other antenna tower now. Thanks Will, I still get off just thinking about it.

Al Shinaberry C-14564

Here's another one from the same friend about Bridge Day 1983.

---------------------------------------

An estimated 25,000 people came out for Bridge Day, October 8, 1983. That is the only day each year for skydivers to legally leap off the world's longest steel arch bridge. The New River Gorge Bridge is the second highest bridge in the U.S.-spanning 876 feet above the world's second oldest river.

It was a beautiful day in Fayetteville, West Virginia. The sun was shining and temperatures were in the mid 70's. Festivites included a marathon race, some repellers, but skydivers were definitely the main event. Over 230 jumpers registered for the boogie and over 500 jumps were made.

The whoffos got their eyes full of some scary stuff this year. Some skydivers entertained them by flipping over on their backs and pitching their pilot chute between their legs. Other jumpers would pack with their slider up to make it seem like their canopy wouldn't be fully open until they were about to splash in the river. One girl even had a line over and cut away. She managed to get her reserve out just in time. Even though there were some scary jumps, most of the jumpers entertained the crowd by stepping off in a head high position and falling stable for three or four seconds before pitching out.

Among these jumpers were six Diamond State Skydivers: John Thomas, who made three jumps; Liz Collins who was the first one to make the leap that day. Liz and Al Shinaberrry each made two jumps. Wildman Wallace Price, who may have been the only Black to make the leap, made one jump; Charlie England, who was probably the oldest, but definitely one of the happiest, made his first Base jump, and did it perfectly. John Newton who did much better this time, compared to the one he made from the catwalk in May, also made one jump. Another real crowd pleaser was when two guys took off a perfect two way line and then built a stack.

The thing I enjoyed most, other than my jumps, was hearing all the Yea Hahs and Wha Hoohs!!!, and seeing all those smiling faces as the jumpers gathered up their chutes and made room for the next jumper to land. All in all, I thought it was a good boogie. I can hardly wait until next October. As long as they continue to allow jumpers on Bridge Day, you can bet I will be there!!

Al Shinaberry C-14564

Got any idea how good it makes me feel that Frank has kicked this stuff off on the Forum?

Another story that is very far from vintage, but here goes:

Be warned: it's a long story (even by Jaap's standards), warts & all.

The main characters in this little story are myself, my two good friends
Hippo and (as he later became known) Johan. Just for your reference Kev,
Johan was one of your last students. You did a two way with him out in
Norway for his 100th BASE jump. Last but not least, the getaway driver was
my lovely and long suffering wife Jo.

Every day I take the train into and out of work and pass a tasty selection
of objects along the way, but one in particular had been playing on my mind.
The new FlatIron building had topped out and workers were due to be moved
into it within a few weeks. It's within the centre of the financial
district and as soon as the construction workers were moved out I knew it'd
go from the "to do" list to the "wish I'd done it" list. She's the new
headquarters for a leading global financial institution and is proudly
advertised as being the world's first terrorist proof building.

I spent most of my next day off freezing, whilst I watched how the building
operated and checked out the security of the surrounding buildings too. The
surrounding buildings are absolutely superb, but the security layers
employed make them near impossible. If you've ever flown out of Eilat I
suspect that you're almost getting there in terms of the paranoia these guys
suffer from. I realised that they were a lost cause when I figured out that
the dozen sharp looking, well built, crew cut sporting, Armani wearing
blokes hanging around the reception area were in fact undercover security.

So back to the FlatIron building. It's still had loads of construction
workers milling about and therefore could never be as secure. They are
issued with photo ID and are checked at one of two security huts. They wear
yellow flourescent Hi Vis and white hard hats and seem to mill about
unchecked once inside. I note two possible entry points, suitable for our
purposes.

The next day on the train into work I take another longing glance at her and
ring Hippo to see if he might be interested. I explain to him that I see
her twice a day and that she's been taunting me; that it's only a few more
weeks she might be jumpable. Hippo is already familiar with this area and
agrees that we stand a very high chance of being caught, possibly before we
even take our rigs out of our stash bags, but that it's worth it to both of
us. We discuss entry and exit strategies and whether anyone else might want
to come. We decide that a third person will only increase our chances of
being caught a bit, but a forth will turn capture into a dead certainty. We
decide that Johan might like to come and I ring him. He's well up for it
and not too bothered about the possibility of being caught.

Throughout that day we all remain in contact discussing this jump. We
agreed that the winds were as good as they are likely to get and certainly
going in the right direction. We decide to give it a go that night. I ring
Jo and inform her that her that I'd like her to drive the getaway car and
could she possibly meet me there straight after work at midnight with my
rig, body armour and helmet.

We meet at the appointed car park and discuss the plan in detail, so that
everyone is aware of what should happen and where we should be, what the
escape plan will be and so on. Hippo has acquired three yellow Hi Vi vests
and white hard hats for us. Jo drops us as close to the complex's security
check point as she can without us being noticed and we start walking in.

We've just negotiated the first secured gate directly under a check point
and are hiding in the shadows watching the movements of the workers in the
compound when a really loud angry voice apparently shouts at us "Oi, stay
right there!". We all think that the game is up, at the very first hurdle
no less. Johan even says we should just go out now, but Hippo & I are in
agreement that whoever it is can damn well come in and get us. We stay
there and carry on watching and nothing comes of angry man for at least ten
minutes. While we're watching we establish two further hitches: our chosen
entry point is next to the site's portabogs (which we knew about), but the
portacabin next door to them is a tea room and there is no way of knowing
when a worker might emerge from there. We'll just have to take our chances
climbing over the seven foot high noisy spiked fence. It's also become
painfully obvious that the night workers are in fact all wearing orange Hi
Vi vests- we're going to stick out like bollocks on a Bulldog with our
yellow vests. We all agree to press on and wait for a gap in the traffic
passing to and from the portacabins.

When it's as quiet as it's going to get we tackle the fence. One climbs
while the other two try to stop the fence making a noise that would wake the
dead. We're directly underneath another security cabin, so the need for
subtlety outweighs the need for quick access. Subsequently we're visible
for an uncomfortably lengthy time, especially when Hippo gets hung up on a
spike through his jacket and we have to lift him back up and over it again.


Once we're all over the fence it's time to don our Hi Vis and hard hats.
We're now into the compound proper and it's time to start looking like we
belong there, or at least as well as we can with our yellow Hi Vis and our
20lb all black back packs. Hands in pockets, slouching and taking on a
disinterested air, we start to wander towards where we imagine the access to
the basement might be; trying all the while to look like we know exactly
where we're going whilst scanning around for the way in. We pass several
workers and they pay us no attention what so ever.

We find the access to the basement and there's a security guard sitting
right next to it, just out of sight around a concrete pillar. All he's got
to do is lean forward and he can see anything we're doing. Hippo and Johan
stand to one side, trying unsuccessfully to be blend in, whilst I take care
of the security mechanism on the gate. Then the makeshift gate needs to be
opened enough for us to slip through, so I lift it up and start to move it
to one side. The sound of the steel gate scraping on the concrete floor is
excruciating and the already wide eyed Hippo and Johan leap to my
assistance, as we try to minimise the noise. Incredibly, the guard pays us
no attention and we're in!

We calmly walk around the corner and into the basement of the building and
everyone breaks out into their own little celebratory jig: "we're in, we're
in, we're in!" Then it dawns on us that we're in the centre of a very large
building with no signs up yet and we're largely clueless as to where the
stairs are. It quickly degenerates into a farce as we all peer through
different doors looking for any clues as to where we need to be headed. Ten
minutes of this and we stumble across a set of stairs and an elevator.
Johan dives in with eyes lit up like a kid in a toy store, but Hippo & I
agree that we're too close to our prize to be denied it by some fancy
software alerting security to an unauthorised elevator movement- we'll be
taking the stairs.

After a seriously sweaty climb we get to the top floor and start casting
about for access to the roof. We've barely arrived there when we can hear
workers getting closer to us. It looks like our luck might be running out
and we won't find a way up when I remember that high rise workers are these
days demanding easy access to the roof, so that they at least have the
option of helicopter rescue- there's got to be an escape hatch somewhere.
Johan walks around the corner and there it is: small, but with its very own
ladder attached to it. We considered whether the hatch might be alarmed or not, but the ever closer voices of workers became more important. Without further delay we're on the roof and looking
out over the beautiful night time panorama of our city.

With no further need for the Hi Vis and hard hats, we neatly roll them up,
stuff them under some pipes and start to kit up. I ring Jo and tell her
that we've reached the roof and will give her a five minute call.
Apparently we've taken almost two hours so far and she's nearly finished her
book.

We confirm the exit order and escape plans. Hippo broke both his legs only
a few months earlier and is still suffering a great deal of pain: he goes
first. I'm a heavy smoker and want to be next off as soon as he's clear and
Johan is off last. Kit checks and customary funky hand shakes out the way,
I ring Jo and tell her we're off soon. As soon as the first canopy opened
the clock would be ticking and she'll drive up to the nearest check point to
her, swing a u turn just before it and pull up where we intended to climb
out of our chosen landing area.

Hippo jumps and has a perfect opening. As soon as he's clear I'm off. I
can't imagine the building's designers had BASE jumpers in mind, but I was
looking at the floors as I fell past them and the dimmed night time lights
were all different colours and gradients of each colour. It was a fantastic
show, a lot like looking into a brilliant and very big kaleidoscope. I have
a similarly great opening and follow Hippo into our intended landing area
where we both have good landings. We gather up our canopies and run like
lunatics to the shadow of the wall we need to climb over. Both hands are
needed to get over this wall so we stuff just our canopies in their stash
bags to swing over the top of our harnesses. Still no sign of Johan- where
the fuck his he? I'm scanning wildly round for him but I can't see
him. Hippo, who is frantically stashing his canopy, has time to reassure me that Johan is fine and tells me to hurry up.

Meanwhile I'm seriously puffed out from running. I'm experiencing
tunnel vision and seeing stars big time. Later I figured out that it was a
big mistake to run with my full face helmet on: I've been breathing the same
depleted air I'd just breathed out and I'm so starved of oxygen I almost
don't give a shit. I'm standing on Hippo's canopy while he tries to stash
it and not really doing very well stashing my own (I think I even tried to
stash some of his canopy in my bag). I get my canopy stashed as Hippo
climbs the wall and then start to struggle with the simple process of
putting my filled stash bag over the top of my harness to climb out. I'm
starting to get some fresh oxygen again (I've still got my full face on) and
become vaguely aware that Johan is looking over the wall and beckoning me to
start climbing. I just about had the presence of mind to wonder how the
hell he suddenly appeared there when he told me that a security Jeep was
pulling up. I heard Hippo shout "Go, Go, Go!" and Jo roaring off down the
road, followed almost instantaneously by "Stop! Let's go back."

(Quick mental note to self at this point: need to mention to wife during later debrief the importance of having spouse in getaway car before charging off. Must not be too hard on her, though. She's clearly working to the greater good of the group and obviously has an excited Hippo screaming orders in her ear.)


Then Johan (who was man handling
me over the wall at this point) told me we were caught. As I get my legs
over four security guards close round the pair of us and grab us and Johan
shouts "It's o.k., I've got him!" I looked at him as if he'd gone utterly
mad, before I realised that he'd somehow gotten rid of all his gear and had
morphed into an innocent bystander.

In fact, he'd not just become an innocent bystander, but a bloody have a go hero, apprehending errant BASE jumpers in his spare time, when he's on his way home from the pub.

I take my helmet off and once the guards realised that I was in no fit state
to leg it they let me finish stashing my gear. Hippo had decided to go back
when a security guard had made a wild grab for the back of the rapidly
departing car and fell flat on his face. Hippo felt that he should be with
us too. Only later did it emerge exactly how Johan had miraculously
appeared by the car: After we'd both jumped he decided that his best hope
for escape would be to hop and pop and fly directly over our landing area to
the road. He'd taken a down wind, down hill landing on half brakes, having
had to flare his canopy to avoid landing on a black cab that was passing
underneath. Jo said that a double decker bus had to swerve round him, but
after he'd shot up a lamp post to retrieve his canopy he had his rig and
helmet off super quick and in the back of our car.

The police didn't take long to get there and obviously they wanted mine and
Hippo's details and ID. The head of security turned up and wanted to know
how we'd managed to get in and onto the roof. He kept shaking his head and
saying that they were on a very high security alert, having received a
specific threat from the people that know. He was not a happy bunny that
we'd managed to waltz into the building unchallenged with all our gear. The
more senior policeman mentioned that he'd been in attendance at a previous
BASE jump that hadn't gone quite so well, number 23 on Nick's list and I
thought he might have a problem with us, but he turned out to be pretty cool
about it all. He even asked me "what delay did you take before you threw
your drogue out?"

The head of security (still shaking his head and looking pretty embarrassed)
was still asking us for details on how we got in. We'd told him as much as
we'd needed to convince them that we hadn't done any damage to gain access,
which would have been a police matter. The police pressed us on the third
jumper that apparently escaped and Hippo told them he was a visiting Belgian
jumper called Johan that we'd never met before, that we'd hooked up with on
the internet that day. Dubiously noting this down, they asked " I don't
suppose you have a surname for this mysterious Belgian jumper that you just
met on the internet?" I offered Hannes and the copper sarcasticaly mumbled "Johan Hannes" as he noted it in his little book.
(Deepest apologies if there is in fact a Belgian jumper out there with that
name, BTW.)

All the while Johan is playing up the innocent bystander
beautifully. He's asking me and Hippo "So what's it like to jump then?" and we're having to answer these questions as sincerely as we can to play along. "I could never do that, you lot are completely crazy". I've got to turn away at this point, I can't risk giving his game away.


Then he's taking pictures on his mobile phone of us with the Police, us
with the security (who were extremely uncomfortable about that), him smiling
with us looking caught. I can see at least one of the security guys and one
of the coppers paying undue attention to Johan's Hanwag boots, which I guess
they probably thought bore an curious similarity to mine and Hippo's, but
nothing was said.

Meanwhile, Hippo and I are doing our utmost best to be as polite to the security and police as we can and try to avoid appearing evasive with their questions. Hippo had even helped up the guy that fell over trying to catch him. We made it clear that we understood that they had their job to do and maybe on this occasion it might have conflicted with our passion somewhat. I suspected that we might have got them on our side to a certain extent when one of the security guards (who was clearly a Northerner himself) started ribbing Hippo, calling him a "daft Northern monkey".

The head of security asked for a private word with the police and after
several minutes came back and advised us that no police action would be
taken. Myself and Hippo were issued with notices from the complex security
banning us for six months from entering the financial district and it was
witnessed by the police. They let on that they'd been asked to detain us if possible because the head of security for the building wanted to question us and that he was hopping mad, but that they couldn't see how they could possibly hold us any longer from a legal stand point.

As an interesting and argueably ironic sidenote, it later transpired that the then head of security for the building (that we never got to meet, thankfully) is a skydiver from one of the larger drop zones in the area. Apparently he took more than his fair share of abuse over this little incident.

We all went to McDonalds and (possibly for the first time and last time) we
all had very Happy Meals.

I think I just crapped my pants laughing. That was awesome Luke!



Keep 'm coming people!

You couldn't make this shit up.

Awesome stories guys.

Great one Ron. I started reading with out looking to see who had writen the story. Before I was finnished, I knew you were the author. You write like you speak. Great job. Your story is proof of just how far one can go with little more than a stout set of balls. Tell Johan I said "sup nigga"
K

>>You couldn't make this shit up.<<

That's a Nugget . . .

NickD
BASE 194

Here’s a little ditty for you.

The jump story in itself isn’t really that out of the ordinary and could be summarised in a paragraph or two. I personally think it’s worthy of telling ,only in so much as it certainly should make those jumpers - who believe it couldn’t happen to them - sit up and take note. In addition it links back to some of the most vintage stories around – as told by Simon Jakeman in his book groundrush.

Somewhere in the great metropolis of London lies a building known to many as ‘The House’; a block of residential flats towering a pretty unimpressive but nevertheless jumpable 240 to 250ft (depending on who you talk to.) This particular B features in Jakeman’s book, along with some stills and a gut wrenching description of the climb onto the roof from the top floor balcony which involves a precarious dangle 230ft above the streets of London. After the climb up, the jump itself is a blessed relief.

Having jumped this B only a week or so earlier, I had noticed upon entering the foyer of this building (along with fellow jumper Dan-the-Man) that the long overdue construction of a security desk and concierge system was almost at a completion. Furniture – still wrapped in plastic - had been moved into the security office and the monitors, connected to those dozen or so new security cameras were in position and hooked up. As we headed home after the jump we realised this B would in no time at all become an altogether more difficult, if not impossible, object to jump. The most had to be made of the precious quality time we had left.

Calls were made; discussions had; and a general, but loose plan was hatched. A group of us would visit the B and jump it at the next available opportunity.

Within a week, the forecast looked good and so I made some calls. By the end of the working day four good friends were all committed to jumping that night.

As I was seconds from leaving the house that night, my wife took a phone call: her gran had taken ill and was being rushed to hospital, things didn’t look good. I called the gang and made my apologies. I wouldn’t be able to make it.

The three of them pressed on with the plan.

At some point that night, after the last drunks had staggered home from the pub, Dan-the-man stepped over the edge of the house for the second time in as many weeks. As soon as he landed Neil Q followed, and moments later Duane joined them. As Neil spun round on hearing Duane’s canopy burst open he was confronted by two alarming facts. Firstly Duane had opened off heading and had landed in a tree and secondly a group of people were sprinting towards him at speed. Within seconds though he came to realise that they were not in fact residents but another group of jumpers who had the same plan in mind. After carefully extracting Duane unharmed from the tree (it was a rubinia by all accounts) the first group depart in a London cab, leaving the second group probably scratching their heads.

Group 2 after weighing up all the facts decide to press on too. Later that same night canopy number 4 burst open after Mac steps over the edge, followed moments later by Tom who by all accounts experienced a rather funky canopy inflation. On the ground, acting as crew was the relative newbie Ivan.

So ends a slightly crazy and almost comical night of urban jumping. Not much of a story I’m afraid, but the epilogue makes a rather interesting read.

Not long after this event, Ivan lands in the pitch black after a jump, snapping his tib and fib. Mac opens low off a gasometer and snaps his tib and fib, requiring his foot to be turned around by a jumper at the scene, I turn low after a cliff jump and snap my left tib, only to go on a few months later and snap both my right tib and fib after stalling out my canopy. Tom lands badly and breaks lots including his femurs, Duane dies on impact after his first wingsuit jump in Switzerland and finally Neil dies after falling from a cliff he’s intending to jump from in Thailand. Of all the people connected to the jump that night, only Dan avoided injury. And I hope it stays that way fella.

Make of that what you will but it’s certainly a reason to pause for thought. Sorry it’s not a happy ending but my wife’s gran did make a full recovery though.


ian

what a night......................

funny as fuck!

the curse of the house though............ that fucking sucks............

just posted a list on the UK board - and this is in one of "most memorable"

Thanks for the memories................


Mac

PS) Glad your Gran-in-law was ok..............

Hey Nick, this is a great thread and brings back some crazy memories. This is a case of "I wouldn't do now what I did then, but I didn't know any better." Since it's Vintage, I want to tell my favorite jump story about mine and my twin brother's first night cliff jump off Half Dome in early 82. Randy and I had just been BASE jumping for a few months and had our S and B. Hell we were from Iowa and barley knew what a cliff looked like. We had been skydiving for 10 years and had already met Carl before. So we decided to go to Yosemite for a cliff and just figure it out. We got to CA and called Carl. Told him we were going to El Cap to make a night jump. Then he made his funny OHOHOH sound and said that no one had ever done a night jump off Half Dome. So of course we changed plans. You remember we all wanted to have some firsts in those days while there were still a lot of firsts to be had. After partying too late one night, we didn't get started up the trail from Curry Village until about 2:30 and we had to get up before dark to do wind tests and find the exit and landing areas. The hike was a bitch with our old skydiving rigs disguised under rain coats. Randy had a mid 70's SST Racer and I had a mid 70's container called a Piglett, made for 2 small rounds. My canopy was an old Golden Knights 5 cell Stratostar #106. It had over 2000 jumps on it when I got it. Well finally we barely make it up about an hour before sunset. We actually argued about where the landing area was since it's hard to see from up top. We located what we felt was the best exit point using a tip from Carl to avoid the diving board. It was cold as hell at night with snow still all around. We sat in a snow ring to block wind and just got scared. We had a pint of Wild Turkey on us to keep us warm, but our indigestion was bad due to fear and not eating we barely touched it. At 2:00 we flashed our ground crew on the ground and no light came back. They had built a small camp fire and the Rangers must have seen it from the Glaciar Point station. Anyway they ran them off. At 3:00 AM we went to the exit point, scared as hell. We had been waiting for a moon that never got above 20 degrees in the sky so it was pitch black looking down. Before dark, we had located a hump in a big mountain across the valley that was on the heading we needed to get to the landing area. We hoped we could see it at night and we barley could. We had calculated our glide angle and rate of descent at a 1.5 glide ratio which is about all you get out of a worn out stratostar. The day before we had stepped off one mile out from the Talus so we figured with a 10 second delay we would come over the meadow at about 500 feet. Before Exit, we were scared to death and decided (badly) to shorten the delay to 7 to 8 since we had a long way over the trees. He goes first, nice head high leg spread exit into a track in 3 seconds and I lost him. Heard the opening saw it for a second looking over the edge and he disappeared into the wall and came back out. Turns out he had broken a steering line and the canopy opened with a spin that took 2 turns to stop. I thought he was hurt so I had to get it together to go. I saw his canopy and it looked like it was flying randomly.
I figured, Hell I'm doing a 10 to get further away from this wall. I go into an immediate track for a full 10 before I reach. Man did I get hammered but I was 200 feet from the wall. My left steering line locked and the right one snapped. Horrible left spin I couldn't stop with just a rear riser. Spun 3 times gettin within 20 feet of the wall and grabbed an opposite nose line and the canopy flew straight. Looked horrible but flew. I came in ove the landinig area and Randy was cussing and limping. He was so scared he needed a drink of Wild Turkey but when he hit the wall, it broke the cap and was totally empty. Anyway we did get to be the first night jumps off Half Dome, and lived despite our gear.
Rick Harrison
BASE 38
N.BASE 13

I don't know about the rest of you but I think that this is the best thread I have ever seen in these forums. Each night I get to sit down and read a bed time story. Thank you Joy for that glimpse into the past. Too bad about the booze. Thanks everybody and keep them coming.
What about you Tom A. I'm sure that you have your share of stories. Lets hear them.

This isn't about me, but I found it in the Globe and Mail, 1974.

A $25,000 jump from CN Tower

by Anne Parsons

One friend called him a revolutionary, but William Eustace from Newfoundland himself says he's a man who always 'does his own thing'.

He said he would jump off the top of the 1500 ft-high CN Tower. Yesterday, he did.

But doing his own thing has cost Mr. Eustace $25,000 a year job and almost his life.

"I was fortunate, very fortunate, that I made it... I almost hit 118,000 volts and the tower restaurant on the way down," the iron worker said in an interview last night. Mr. Eustace, 33, said he jumped because he told everyone he would and because he will do just about anything to be an individual.

"I've wanted to jump ever since I started work on the tower. I was sick, sick, sick with the job and the people who worked there: but now it';s all over."

Mr. Eustace was fired after his jump late yesterday afternoon by Jack Whyte, superintendant of construction for the tower, for violation of safety procedures.

Most definitely not vintage, but the alcohol induced this posting.......

This is the jump that broke bits of me (as they say, its between those who have and those who will...)

************************

The Jump:
It was very dark. Approaching the object I was thinking how dark it was and trying to judge how it would look under canopy; I consciously made the decision that there was enough light to see for landing. Winds were OK at ground level, but my jump buddy (an experienced jumper, and experienced with this object) warned that the winds would be pretty tasty at opening height due to the nature of the conditions in relation to object. I decided that, considering the wind conditions at ground level, I would be happy to jump providing the wind was between the wires.
As we climbed the winds really did pick up, but the WDI pause at opening height was favourable and we continued. After some pin-popping/shoe-lace fixing shanannigens at the launch point (not my rig), my mate exited and shortly after opening I lost sight of him – last view was him making some VERY good distance away from the object. I waited till I heard him land, thinking “hmmm…. a down-winder would be an unpopular choice tonight…”
I climbed the rail, and after the normal “why am I doing this again? Oh yeah cos its fun” moment, I had a good exit, took about a 1”, and pitched. Nice on heading opening, freed the breaks, and started bringing it round for landing. At this point I realised exactly how dark it was; I could not see the ground, or any other hints of where it might be (horizon/trees etc). I prepared for a PLF and then thought I could see where the ground was, so started a very slow flare; I was about ¾ breaks when I passed the point where the ground should have been (I had strong words with the planet later) and realised that from here sinking it in was the only option.
The point of impact I’m not entirely sure about; it wasn’t that hard – I’ve hit the ground much harder many time in my 6 years skydiving (without injury!) – and I was still prepared for a PLF, but I *think* my left foot hit a tussock, although it is entirely possible that I just got caught up in “where the fu(k is the ground???” mode and wasn’t ready for the hit. Either way, my left foot twisted round with a nasty noise and I knew that all was not good with the world, and even less good with my foot.

The conversation from there:
Buddy (from distance): “You OK mate?”
Me: “No……….. I don’t think so……. I think I’ve broken my ankle.”
Buddy: “Yeah, right mate, stop pissing around.”
Me: “Um. I’m not. I really think I have done something here.”
Buddy: “Tit.”

Perhaps not verbatim, but the general gist is there.

The extraction:
Looking down at my foot, I could see - based on previous experience - that it wasn’t pointing the right way. I rolled myself to straighten it out as my mate came over, and we proceeded to remove my rig. My car was approx 500m away, so my mate took the rigs and went off to the car and try and get it a little closer. While he was away I used my knee pads to make a very primitive splint.
On his return, he was happy to inform me that he HAD managed to get the car closer; I was very pleasantly surprised by this news as the area is surrounded by fencing and I didn’t have much hope of that.
So I started hopping. This is something I don’t recommend to anyone…. It’s really grim with a broken leg. I was leaning heavily on my mate and hyper ventilating (anyone hyper ventilated?? Very weird…. You know its going on but have no control over it). There was much:
“how breathbreathbreath much breathbreathbreath further breathbreathbreath?”
followed by:
“just over there mate – see that fence? Nearly there”
and I eventually realised that “brought the car closer” roughly equated to “brought the car 50m closer”....

….and at this point I raise a glass to 621 for his very economical use of the truth, never failing humour, and (short) but strong shoulder…..

Reaching the car was one of the happiest moments of my life. I almost managed to smoke myself to death during the 45 min drive to the hospital. Which would have been ironic.

Injury:
Dislocated ankle; broken tib; broken fib. Strongly recommend avoiding dislocation resets on broken bones. It is a most unpleasant experience.
Surgery the next day; pins for the tib x3, plate for the fib.

**************************

As I said, not vintage. But the lesson learned - never jump if you are not happy with the conditions - may be an early warning for another newbie reading this.

It hurts.

A lot.

If you are lucky.

Sleep beckons. G'night.

Here is another one. I did not write it funny because there was nothing funny about it.
------------------------------------------------------------

At first, all I felt was weightlessness. The sensation was peaceful and serene. But then came the acceleration and I watched as the super structure of the bridge moved quickly past my feet. Clear of the steel and free falling into the moon light canyon below I was acutely aware of how alone in the darkness I was. I was beyond the help of others
After 3 seconds, I felt the wind on my face and heard the roar of it in my ears. It was pull time. I reached back, grabbed the pilot chute, and with one smooth motion, pulled it from its pouch and threw it into the wind. With great anticipation, I waited to hear the familiar ripping sound of Velcro as the rig opened. Instead, I felt nothing; nothing except more acceleration.

I figured that the pilot chute must be trapped in my burble. I rolled onto my side with the hope that I might be able let clean air spill past and inflate the pilot chute. Nothing happened. I looked, but saw nothing. It was too dark, and while I could not see what was happening, I knew the pilot chute was not doing what it must for me to survive.
It was then that the most terrible thought entered my brain. The best explanation (if you can call it that) of why the pilot chute was not inflating was because I must have somehow misrouted it through a leg strap. The realization of the seriousness of my situation was like a baseball bat to the head.
No pilot chute means no parachute, and no parachute means no tomorrow.

It was then that everything began moving in slow motion and I lost all sense of time. I reached back and clawed at the flaps of my container in the desperate hopes of ripping it open and then maybe, just maybe my parachute might still open in time.
In rapid succession, I experienced the most intense emotions of my life. Shock that things were going so badly, terror of awaited me on the rocks below, and anger at my self for the pain I was about to inflict upon my family and those precious few who love me.
My life did not flash before my eyes. Instead, the faces of the two people in the world that meant the most to me filled my vision. The way things were going, I knew that would be the last time I would see them.

Time was a blur. “How much of it has passed? How long have I been in free fall?” Something caught my eye, I looked left, and in an instant, I had my answer. There was Seth, standing on the hiking trail/landing area, his parachute draped over his shoulder, watching helplessly as I fell past him and deeper into the canyon. It was then that I looked down and for the first time and saw the rocks coming up fast. One rock was large, jagged and still. Everything else around it was a blur. That rock would not flinch. That rock would not move. That rock was not going to feel pain and that rock is were I was going to die.

As I free fell through the last 60 feet of my life, a profound sense of deep peaceful calm washed over me. No sound. No fear. No panic. No remorse. Only calm. Calm like I had never experienced before in my life. It was my time and I was ready.
And then……. SLAM. All of the neurons in my brain fired at once and registered as a blinding flash of white light in my eyes.

“This is strange; I’m looking down at the rock. Why am I not a bloody disintegrated mess lying on top of it? Is my soul hovering above my grave and is this my last dying thought?”

Like a needle being scratched off a vinyl record, I was yanked back to reality. I was not dead. I was under my partially opened parachute. The parachute, not yet fully pressurized, surged violently to the left and threw me like a rag doll, straight at the very steep and heavily wooded canyon slope. With no time to prepare for it, I hit hard. As soon as I hit, I began clutching wildly for anything that might keep me from falling backwards and into the raging river just a few short feet behind me. My parachute became snagged high up in a tall tree over my head. If it had fallen into the water, the parachute would most certainly have dragged me into the fast moving river, and sealed my fate.

As I stood there trembling uncontrollably, it became clear that I had more adrenalin coursing through my veins at that moment than at any other time in my entire life. There was no pain, but judging by how hard I hit, I knew pain was on the way. Starting at my hips, I reached down with both hands, and quickly checked to see if I had any bones sticking out. I felt nothing. Nothing was good.

Realizing that the adrenaline was masking the pain, I took off my rig, left it lying where I landed, and I started climbing up the slope. It wouldn’t be long before moving on my own became impossible
Half way up the slope, I saw Seth. He was 30 feet away and closing fast. He yelled, “Are you alright?” “No” I yelled back. “I think I’m hurt bad but can’t feel it yet. Please, grab my gear, I’ll try to make it to the pick up point while I still can.”
I made it up the slope, onto the hiking trail, and started a very wobbly walk to where a car was waiting. I was moving, but not in a way that I ever had before. It felt almost as if my legs were no longer attached to my body and walking a straight line was totally out of the question.

An unknown number of steps later, the pain set in. Unable to take another step, I collapsed on the path as a tidal wave of pain slammed into me over and over again. It was my knees. I had hyper extended them and the pain was spectacular.
In the time it took Seth to collect my gear and reach me where I lay, both of my knees had swollen to the size of basketballs. Thankfully when he did reach me, he had with him, one of the other jumpers who had jumped before me. Seth and Corky each grabbed an arm and carried my ass the rest of the way out. And for that, I owe them big time.
Later on, back at the hotel, a group of jumpers came by to welcome me back from the brink. They gave me a big bottle of rum, bags of ice, and I proceeded to self-medicate and ponder what had just happened.
Seth later told me that when he saw me fall passed him as he stood on the trail; my parachute was almost at line stretch. If the parachute had come out of the container a fraction of a second later, this story would have ended differently and I would not be the one telling it.
I’m told that while in free fall, I let out the most blood curdling scream of terror that no one in attendance had ever heard before. I don’t remember doing that and I never heard a thing, but if I did, who can blame me? Certainly not those who have YET to experience what I went through that night.
I never did find out for sure why the pilot chute took so long to inflate. No one saw a thing. The most logical explanation points to the way I folded the pilot chute. Not misrouting as I had believed.

Back then, not much was known about jumping with the pilot chute stowed in its pouch and only a hand full of jumpers that I knew of were doing it. Up to that point, I had always jumped with it in my hand. Not knowing any better and having no one around to teach me the proper method, I folded the pilot chute as cleanly as I could, much like I would have if I were making a skydive. I believe that the extra time it took for the pilot chute to unfurl was the cause of the extended delay and only when I started kicking and flailing for my life did the pilot chute actually begin to work. It was my first time going stowed and while going stowed soon became all the rage in the BASE jumping, it took me another 6 years before I would try it again.

That chilly night in the spring of 94 will for ever be etched upon my soul. I almost became a cautionary tale.
I believe that event changed my life far more than any other event before or since. It opened my eyes to what is truly important in this world. The connections we make and the people we hold dear are all that matters. Everything else is just noise
For many years to follow, I held the dubious distinction of holding the record for being the guy who opened the lowest at that particular bridge. Ten years later, some unfortunate fellow broke that record and many of his bones in the precess, but thankfully, he survived to tell the tale. I hope that one day he does.

Having read that the chills down my spine have only just disappeared.

It reminded me a bit (but only a bit) of a certain SW who static-lined a 245' UK bridge back in the early 80s and the break tie cord was too light and broke before it had extracted almost anything of the canopy out of the tray. He only got the canopy out fully by hitting the sides of the container with his elbows and got inflation just in time.

That was about as unfunny too.

bump

After a weekend in the Lowlands of BE and not getting a jump in due to weather, myself and the guy I first started BASE with decided to make the best of the holiday weekend and drive back from Antwerp to the UK (3 hours), back to my house (3 hours), check the winds and go and do our first E and jump the Cheesy Cliff (mentioned in Groundrush a bit). Winds looked good for the morning so drove straight there (2 hours) to find the exit point and check out the landing. All looked good and we went to grab a pint to discuss the jump. Now the Cheesy one is quite a hardcore jump, and at the time we both had about 18 jumps and naturally we were both abit apprehensive about doing such a jump, we sat in the pub with our pint discussion whether such a jump should be done - the tone was starting to move toward a negative, so my friend said "I know lets go somewhere", we drove to a place called Weston Super Mare (another 1 hour) we sat in a pub having another pint over looking the town, we watched all the holiday makers (weston super mare is a tacky place where people who cant afford to go away on holiday go for holidays) staggering around, falling asleep with their chips on their chest in the road and generally being horribly behaved. After about 30mins of watching this I realised something, people waste their whole lives not really living and what we do is special and needs to be savoured, I turned to my mate and said "lets fucking do this". We drove back to the cliff (another 1 hour) and parked up below the exit to get about 3 hours sleep in the car to start our way up to get to the exit for sunrise. We awake, hike up and now it takes us less time as we know where the exit point is so we misjudge the sunrise, we have another 2 hours til sunrise. We sit down and wait, in the cold, I start shivering, and feel the cold of the night, then I stop and start wanting to go to sleep, my mate recognises this as the start of hypothermia and says "you gotta get some heat, let me hug you", he sees the look on my face and says "not in a gay way you bummer"

We hug and keep warm, we discuss that BASE should technically allow us to sleep with more women, but all it has done is allow us to sleep with more men in strange out of the way places...

The sunrises, we get kitted up and we jump the 340ft slightly underhung Cheesy one for our first E...............

We are naturally buzzing our tits off. We drive back to my house (2 hours), and pack our rigs in my garden, we then fall alseep on the packing sheet as after 10 hours driving and 3 hours sleep in the past 24 hours and the stresses we felt in doing this cliff as our first E it was only right our bodies thought "fuck me"

3 days later we then scoped and jumped our first B (1 night my friend and the next night me solo), but thats another story in itself.................. fucking air con systems are small!!

I wont bore you anymore..........

you should have used the door like everyone else

 

I suck at essays, but I'll give this one a try.

This story begins when I went to visit one of my team mates from team FX, Anthony, in our nations capital Ottawa. I went to make a few jumps from some of the dozens of A's in his playground, all of which are 300ft or lower. After a night of raping some of his favorites, we went downtown to see the "sites"! While walking around the city with the usual "did it, did it, did it, along with the holy shit so and so totally got away with almost......! We were doing what all base jumpers do when walking the streets, looking for a way to get off THAT one. We had formulated a plan to do one of the hotels not far from the parliament building. We were just walking around and looking at some of the ones that were un-penetratable. The nicest one was also the tallest building in Ottawa allowed by the by-laws. It also happened to be the XXXXX Canada building, which is our version of the American FAA. The police of all aviation in Canada. Anthony explained to me that he had once tried to get in and was accosted by security at the first door asking who he had an appointment with, and was told that the building was NOT open to the public. While playing the lost tourist, he chatted up the guard and tried to get a feel for the place. He noted that every person coming in had their ID checked, and that there was more than one security check point to go through, JUST to get to the elevator. Also from where he stood he could see there was a operator in the elevator. Anthony is a VERY smooth talker, and got quite a bit of info from the security guard on the level of security in the building and found out that it was one of the most secure buildings in Ottawa. He was going through this story while we were walking along the building face. All of a sudden I noticed something strange out of the corner of my eye. It was a window washing unit that was cordoned off, BUT at ground level! I motioned to Anthony at what I saw. He didn't get it, so I took a quick look around, and hoped over the barricade. I jumped into the basket, haven never seen one of these things operate before, I looked for some sort of control. HMMMM... this looks like something. JACKPOT!!! Not only did I find it, but the power had been left on!! This was Saturday around 7PM so I figured the guys MUST be done for the day, if not for the weekend. Scramble back over the barricade before anyone sees me! The next few hours we giggled like school girls at our AMAZING luck! Plans obviously changed! The thought of flicking the governing body of aviation building was like a dream come true, the ultimate IN YOUR FACE! Ground crew organized, we come back at 3AM. After a quick survey of the area, we hope into our chariot! Neither one of us knows what we're doing, but figure it out quick enough. For those who don't know, there is two controls, one for each side, and you need to co-ordinate the upward motion of each side. After we start, and get about 10-15ft off the ground, I notice that the power cord is hanging down, and could be easily grabbed on, and un-plugged, by anyone who spots us. I pull the power cable up, and coil it into the center of the basket, we also start to coil up the safety ropes for the workers in the basket. More giggling at our cleverness, now they won't be able to stop us from the ground, and we figure by the time they get to the roof we'll be high enough to jump anyway! WRONG!! The speed at which those things move is incredibly SLOW! After 15-20 min. we weren't even half the 300ft to the top. At about the 200ft mark my coil of rope over filled the basket, and spilled out unwinding itself to the end. Turned out fairly good for me, very little noise and now it was beyond anyones reach. I chuckled at the fact I no longer had to bother with it, and told Anthony he should do the same. He declined so we just carried on. Another 20ft or so and THUD!, followed by the whirling sound of the power cable now doing the same as my rope! At least 250ft of 1in. power cable now freefalling out of the basket! My mind was racing, the noise! Then it occurred to me, when it hit the end. HOLD ON!! It was tied off to the basket! A split second later it hit the end. The force it had generated was incredible. It tipped the basket at least 60 degrees. The force also bent the railing it was tied to, like a bow-tie! The basket bounced off the glass several times as well as the cable spanking the side of the building. The noise was deafening to us. Someone would be coming any second, and we were only a little higher than 200ft, and smack dab in the middle of the wall, not on the corner. A flaw we had over looked in our excitement earlier. We raced as fast as the basket could take us up, expecting to find a guard at the top waiting for us. Along the way we noticed the basket was having trouble moving now. All the smashing around must have jarred something. Every 20ft or so the cable would slip on the one spool, and the whole basket would shake, and drop down on one side a bit. As we approached the top the whole thing started to shake violently, we had to scramble and climb the last 5ft up the cable. Amazing when we got to the top no-one was waiting for us. Knees knocking like never before. Anthony was anxious to get off before anyone came bursting out the roof door, but I needed a few minutes to scrape the crap off my legs. The jump was the MOST anti-climax jumps I've ever done. We both had perfect jumps, landing right in the center of the strip club parking lot across the street. We howled at the thought of the guys returning to work on Monday to find their basket at the top, and scratching their heads trying to figure out how it got up there!


Holy shit this thing is way too long!

I should ban myself for 14 days

Didn't seem, too long to me. In fact it seemed just about right. Nice one Lonnie

.up.

Lonnie's story about the window washing scaffold reminded me of my first B story. The ride up was wayyyy scarier then the jump back down!

After a long lazy Saturday of not accomplishing much more than babysitting and running errands, my wife and I decided to sit out on the deck and have a few beers. After tossing back about 4 of them the phone rings. Zoomee said, "To B or not to B. That is the question." He proceeded to tell me about a construction scaffold/window washer thing on the side of a certain local building that he and Dan had come across and I couldn't believe him.

It was “my” building... The one I'd driven slowly past and scoped out for months... The one I had detailed floor plans for showing the exit elevation... The one none of us could find a way into was now somehow accessible... and I was packed!
Thankfully, my BASE jumping brothers/mentors had the consideration to call me. They said the platform on the lift would only hold three people and I was the one who had gathered the most intel and done the most work on this one so it only seemed right to call me.

I met them at a nearby bar in record time where we contemplated calling one more person. “I don't know if that thing will even hold the three of us,” Dan said. To which I replied, “I’m so nervous, I think I could puke.” We headed off on our covert mission with no ground crew because we figured something would probably fall through anyway (like it always did on these B attempts) so there was no use dragging anyone else into the mix. We parked Zoomee’s car about a block and a half away and decide to gear up in the shadows behind one of the dumpsters in the construction site at the base before getting on the scaffold. Once we got there I saw the reason for the reservation about calling anyone else. This scaffold is small, maybe 7’x2 ½’, and it’s supported by one small metal cable routed through a motor on the side. There are some other ropes, the power cord and two rollers that ride up the side of the building, but all the weight of us, gear, the coiled up ropes and power cord (and the huge load of crap I was about to dump in my pants!) was going to be supported by one small metal cable. No tracks or guides. No other support. Just the three of us dangling and bouncing up the building. I definitely thought I could puke now!

Once we were on our way up… at a breakneck speed of about ½ mph… I realized how obvious and vulnerable we were. Anyone coming down the one-way street could look up and see us. We were at about 20’ up when we hit our first snag. I’m not being metaphorical here either. We actually had to back the scaffold back down and unhook the ropes and power cable from a concrete ledge they were snagged on. At about 50’ up two guys walked under and looked up but just kept walking as if it were normal for window washers to be working at night… in black helmets… with backpacks on! At about 100’ a cop drove right under us but didn’t notice anything because we were now above his normal field of view.

When we finally made it to the top we hit our second snag. The beam holding the scaffold cable out from the building wasn’t elevated above the lip of the building’s edge. So there we were standing on the platform dangling about 9 feet from the top of the building with no more cable to climb looking at each other like a bunch of retards. “I don’t know about jumping off this rickety platform”, I said. Zoomee had the crazy idea of climbing up on top of the scaffold railing and frame to the beam and over the ledge to the roof. Fortunately, he had the balls to try this while Dan and I watched in awe. (Remember going to the circus as a kid and watching the tightrope walker? You held your breath the whole time just waiting for him to slip or something. Well, it was kinda like that, but Zoom was 360 feet above a construction site!) I was next, and after I got over the side I was shaking so hard I had to sit down for a minute and try to breathe.

So there we were on top of the city. The view was awesome and even if this somehow didn’t work out we had still taken one of the juiciest trips to an exit point that I’ve ever heard of. This juice was completely different than any other I’d felt before. Take your first skydive, add in your first BASE jump, multiply that by 100 and you can begin to understand the kind of juice that was oozing out of every pore in my body. My mouth had never been that dry before. My stomach had never been that tight.

Then we hit another snag. A cop/security car pulled up right next to the landing area and a guy got out walked into the building down the street. Was he a cop or security guard? Was he coming back out or would he be in there for a while? Could he be in there all night? After deliberating for about 5 minutes we finally decided to go. Through a well-planned exit order analysis (rock/paper/scissors) it was decided that Zoom would go first followed by me then Dan. Before I knew it Zoomee had left the building. A few seconds later I did the ol’ 321-c ya and was gone. I opened a little off heading to the left and headed straight for one building (bad) then risered too hard to the right and headed for another (worse). Then I released my toggles and let them up into full flight and found myself catapulted down the urban canyon of buildings way too fast (holy shit!) I wrestled my Mojo into control and did a stand up landing right past the intersection. I turned around to see Dan touch down a few feet away then watched in terror as Zoomee fumbled for what seemed like forever for his keys. Once we were in the car, we noticed the security guard and another security guy walking toward the car. Zoomee dug through all the canopy material to find the parking brake release (Go! Go! They’re coming right at us!) and we were off. We didn’t stop until we were back at his house with some drinks in our hands and big fat grins on our faces.

>>HOT TIP #4: Dont talk to crack heads while approaching a building.
<<

That's from some good advice Johnny posted next door . . .

One night three of us are separately walking down a side street at 3:00 AM and we passed a closed Tattoo Parlor. In the doorway was a girl just standing there and I said hello, but her eyes are heroin dead and she looked right through me.

"What the freak was that?" a partner asked when we re-grouped prior to our assault on the fence.

"I don't know, but even though we went right passed her I don't think she saw us."

The fences around the building are wood and not chain link and we made a very quiet penetration. We moved slowly through the piles of construction materials and equipment slipping from light to shadow before we found the stairwell, put our heads down, and began climbing.

We stopped on the 10th floor for a look-see. We check all four sides and see no activity. We were in.

"Look, she's still there."

She's right where we picked to land. We thought what are we going to do, call the police? We giggled at that and resumed climbing figuring she probably wouldn't even notice us, like the first time we passed her. Thirty four stories later we are on top. I couldn't see her anymore because I didn't have the angle on the doorway, and anyway by that point I never spare a care for anything besides living through the next few minutes. I can deal with any of the lesser consequences after that.

It's a good load. My two crewmates are experienced and capable and we didn't spend any time saying, "What do you think?" The wind is nil, there's no one around, and there's nothing to do but do it. We gear up in silence concentrating on what each is doing. Sometimes when you are with a newer BASE jumper there's a lot of what-ifs articulated and I don't have anything against that, but I'm always one or two steps from hearing, "It doesn't feel right," and walking back down.

We are confident and up for it . . .

We walked the perimeter of the building one more time and re-gather at the chosen launch point. All's cool. We gear check each other and one by one climb over the safety cable, drink it in, and launch. I love that part when you let go of the cable, and balance there for moment suspended between heaven and hell. You haven't left yet, but you can't go back . . .

A bit more than three seconds later I'm turning for the approach and I see her. She standing in the middle of the street and I dodge her a bit and land smoothly. I'm pulling my canopy out of the air and trying to run at the same time. But, she catches me, and she's awake now, her eyes full of life, and she's laughing out loud, saying, "Man, O' Man, I saw you," and she kissed me full on the mouth.

It was probably the most dangerous thing I did that night . . .

NickD
BASE 194

Damn that made me shiver....me too bro, me too.
Thanks!
Blair

Bump.

its not vintage... its hot of the presses though

Drove into work with my "non-base trip car" It has BIRDMAN, Human Flight" on the top of the front windshield.

The civilian contract guard at the gate says, "are you one of the guys that jumps off the cliffs and fly like birds?"

I said no, jsutSB* out of planes...


(((((smiles))))))

one day though... one day.

Having bagged our E, we we now rolling with the wave of enthusiasm (a bad thing) so we decided to go check out a B that had been jumped before but had been locked up but was now back under renovation (rigs in hand), we sat having a beer going over street plans and various meeting points if we got split up, where we should park the car and where we should wait, where the hospitals were and what the situations may end up and the reactions to these situations - we were planning to the nth degree. It was windy at this point and we thought we would just be finding a way in (but with rigs just incase)

After planning we decided to walk over and try and find an entrance. There were several security guards in several portable offices on site, so we found the best place to scale the wall (which they nicely had put broken glass on top) and once in the compound we started our way to the B. Several times we saw people in other portable offices and driven on our buzz we were ducking and hiding and basically playing at "being kids" - it was a kick!

We found some open stairwell down to the basement, which took us into a space that you could not even sit on your knees in, we were crawling on our bellys pushing our stash bags as we went through this laberinth of small tunnels and pipes, it was dusty dirty and just plain nasty.

This place was a fucking maze, we spent about 2 hours going around trying to find a way into the B, then we found a way to another area with room and a set of stairs and thought "this is the fucker" as we came out at the top, we put our heads over and realised we were about 70 ft from the B and looking back at it from a service access. The first thought was "ah fuck" but then it dawned on us, we were looking at a stairwell on the side of the B with a missing window at the bottom! (the B is under refurb) - not only could we have walked a bit and round the corner and found this, we had just spent the last 2 hours crawling around the maze getting covered in shit just to come up away from the B!

We made our way to the scaffold and open window like kids playing at war, and climbed up a story of scaffold to the open window and we were in!

We started the climb up the stair well - all the time nervous as fuck that the echo of your mates scuff of his shoe is someone in the same stairwell, we must have taken an hour to climb up towards the 350ish ft mark. Then the access was blocked, we had to go across a level that had lights on with 20ft windows - again we were on our chests slipping across the floors to each access point (2 guys walking around a B at midnight in London with big arsed windows and lights is noticable) trying to find a way onto the roof. AT LAST we find another set of stairs and a way onto the roof, we look about and there is not a decent exit point due to all the scaffold, back down we go a couple of levels and again on our chests to find another way out. We find a ladder leading up through the blockage in a set of stairs and find a platform to get off. Its not pleasant as if you have a >90L off heading you hit alot of scaffold if you are not right on your shit. With the landing area being a car park of a well know national exhibition center and our ignorance and arrogance we choose this exit point, and the wind has also died down.

My friend decides "I am going" - I decide with the marginal winds "Not for me" - so I shake his hand and wish him luck and arrange to call him when I get back to the car.

All is good on his jump, and I pick him up and we drive off laughing about the whole night.

The next after next, I was at home alone and looked out of the window and it was breathless, I jumped in my car and travelled 70 miles to the B, this time I went through the easy access and went straight to the exit, I called my friend at the top and explained where I was and ask for telephone groundcrew.

I got off, all was good and drove away laughing to myself once again.

The night my friend got off he became BASE811, the night I got off I became BASE813.............

and it was not long after I looked back at our B and E and thought "what the fuck were were thinking" - time to slow down a bit and get off this wave of excitement.............

also have a story about Fabers first B that I will post soon..................

Four guys go to scope out a bridge. The conditions are great and the landing area is ok but the cripple and the Welshman decide not to jump. This was much appreicated by the remaining jumpers because it meant they got a driver and video from the ground .
So the cripple stays on the ground whilst the Welshman drives the jumpers on to the bridge. It should be noted that this was a motorway bridge where it's not strictly cool to stop a car, or get out, or jump off! It should also be noted that the Welshman wasn't strictly insured on this vehicle. But with pilot chutes in hand the jumpers approach the bridge, it looks good, the Welshman stops the car in exactly the right place, the jumpers get out and the car speeds off. The jumpers climb over the crash barrier, jumper #1 raises his pilot chute and is about to exit when........ sirens! Right behind them. Busted. Outstandingly bad timing. Resigned to their fate (most likely being bummed senseless by an irate policeman in a dirty cell somewhere) the jumpers climb back over the barrier, smiles gone. The police, who are on the opposite side of the carriageway, tell the jumpers to stay there whilst they turn their car around. The jumpers signal their compliance. So the police car moves off but when it doesn't pull an immediate u-turn something dawns on jumper #1 and a little light bulb switches on over his ProTec: they'd already driven down that road once and there wasn't anywhere to turn around for ages. The next motorway junction was a good 5 minutes away, if not more. Jumper #1 turns to jumper #2: "We could still go you know?". Stay and definately get busted or jump and maybe get busted. "Fuck it" says jumper #2. And fuck the exit order because before you could say 3-2-1 jumper #2 was back over the barrier and hopping off. Jumper #1 follows, both land ok and leg it in to the woods with the cripple in not-so-hot pursuit. They desperately try to get the Welshman on the radio to tell him not to come down the tiny windy little track to pick them up because they'll get blocked in by the police. But he's out of range. So the three fugitives sit in the woods and as soon as the Welshman is back in range they tell him to leave and come back in an hour. An hour later, with no sign of any police interest, they come nervously out of the woods, find the Welshman and drive off - staying off the motorway for a while!

Just a story I heard second hand one time.

Gus

and prey tell why was the "cripple" was a cripple?

lazy cunts.............

I got this fantastic email from Rob yesterday and he’s happy for me to share it. I had let him know that there were some great stories being posted as a result of his Dad’s story. Give him a welcome, he's watching.


‘Dear Alan,

Well that was certainly a little moving, reading all those stories about my Dad.

Whether or not you purposely didn't mention the "suggested stories about Frank column" I don't know but I found it by searching and I thought your account was fantastic and I am very proud to have got a mention.

You also mention that you have been in contact with Nigel Slee, via the website I believe and I would be interested to contact him also. I understand he was one of the gang! [I’ve sent Rob his email address – AJ]

When I read stories about skydiving / base jumping I long to learn to jump and enter that world. Unfortunately I am probably similar to the "Frank and Alan" of the period in that my ideal entrance to the sport would be from 14,000 feet, rather than the lengthy and costly training program of today. Mainly due to financial reasons, (not because I am too lazy to learn properly)

Living in Thailand however does not allow that whatsoever. There is no AFF course here (Although KM is thinking of coming over to run one) and even if there was it would be too expensive.

When I read these accounts, I imagine skydiving to have been a fun, free sport back in the day.

Alan - How many modern skydivers still camp out in caravans waiting for the wind to change, or clouds to pass? How many pack parachutes all weekend for the thrill of a ten minute jump at the end of the day??? Is this way of enjoying skydiving still possible.

Anyways, one day I hope that my situation will allow me to do that, and in fact I have just had the motivation to send KM an email right now.

Thank you very much for keeping me in mind, I hope that you and your family are well.

I would love you to check out my website, www.thai-dragonfly.com which will give you a pretty good idea of what I am up to over here in sunny Thailand.

Thanks again for the mail and hope to stay in touch,

BIG HUGZ,

Rob ‘

When I read all these great stories, it's easy to imagine that the past was a land of milk and honey and memorable jumps--nobody ever did a so-so jump back in the day.

I think it's the same as with the classics in art, literature, and music. We remember all the good stuff, the ground-breaking stuff, and not all the crap that was turned out in between, so our impression is of a golden age from which we have somehow slipped.

I think what we need to remember, certainly what I need to remember, is that today is what we make it. There are groups out there today doing phenomenal stuff which will be recalled years from now as "vintage BASE jumping stories". Any time we feel like making a new one, the world is our playground.

Michael

Hold on, Brother, It's not the "Golden Age" just yet. There are too many of us that recall the bad times of the good old days. The deaths, the injuries, the fines and the jail time.

Since I've lived in both times I think you are being a bit premature in divvying up these eras. I think in 500 years the first 100 years of BASE would qualify, but we are still way closer to the beginning of the sport than to the middle.

I guess it easy to think of BASE jumpers in the 80s as running around like the Keystone Cops in a one reeler, bumping into each other, falling down, and just once in a while getting it right. But, not that much has changed. Technically throw out the pin rigs, the tailgates, the dedicated canopies, and the wing suits, and a kid on his first BASE jump then and now is practically the same. He stands there with a big pair of balls and not much else.

One thing has certainly changed. Jumpers in 1980's were a more independent lot by far. The way different crews went about their BASE jumping was sometimes startling different from one another. The sport was pure and new, I mean it was more exciting as we were learning as we went along. A frequent saying back then was, "Oh man, don't do that," as we slowly learned from the mistakes of others.

But here's the rub, we still are learning. It's just easy nowadays for a new BASE jumper to believe it's all been done, and to become proficient all they need do is catch up.

I know its progress, but I smile sometimes when I see posts asking, "I'm thinking of BASE jumping, so what should I do?" Twenty five years ago there was no such thing. You'd simply picked your object, set up your gear the best way you knew how, and then just went for it. Even if you messed up no one in the BASE community would say much as we were all more or less on equal footing. Everybody was just guessing.

There are a few people by the mid-80s going around telling people, "This is how you do it," and it started a lot of fires as most thinking jumpers realized we weren't anywhere near having it down that pat. It was mostly ego and false bravado on their parts. And I'm not so sure we have it down even yet. The so called "Golden Age" has taught us what "not" to do much more than what "to" do. And that learning curve is no where close to being over. Mentors should always begin their classes with, "okay, here’s what we think," and not, "here's what we know." If you don't the more astute in your class will see the fraud . . .

NickD
BASE 194

I think you misunderstood my post. What I'm saying is that it's easy to see the early days of BASE jumping as the Golden Age, because we view those times with the benefit of hindsight. Many of us were not there, and so we know only the stories we're told, which tend to be the more interesting ones. In reality, I think we are very much still in the midst of this exploration, and sometimes it's worth reminding ourselves that the jumps we make today will be the vintage stories of tomorrow.

Michael

Bump.

Its been a while.

Holy shit !

I read Groundrush years ago and threw it away after Id read it. I thought Id get it again after being reminded of it, so followed this link, and found the average price of this book in the UK is £175.00, with a good quality copy going for £240.00 from one vendor on Amazon !

Well I guess thats one book IM not going to read again then...

I only have one "vintage" BASE jump to relate, but it does go back a few years. I'm sure a lot of you have already heard it, but I'll tell it here for those of you who haven't.

The year was 1966. BASE jumping didn't have a name yet and there were no FJC instructors around, so we had to play it by ear. The square Ram-air parachute technology hadn't been invented yet, so we had to make do with the round state-of-the-art modified military parachutes which were widely used those days. The Cap had never been jumped. In fact, the only "BASE" jump in the 1900's was from the Statue of Liberty by Frederick Law. We were not aware of that jump at the time.

Our mission was quite simple. We wanted to be the very first parachutists to conquer the Cap. The hike to the top was extremely arduous. Brian Schubert, Jim Cleary and I made the tiring trip to the top in approximately 8 1/2 hours. The gear was much heavier back then. We did our utmost to appear as backpackers in the event we might be seen by anyone in authority on the way up. We had no idea whether the park rangers would stop us if they happened to recognize that we were parachutists, but we didn't want to take any chances.

When we reached the top we came to the most perfect launching pad we could ask for. It was as close to perfectly horizontal as it gets and hung out over the edge at least 6 to 8 feet. Jim Cleary was not there to jump. He was with us to do his best to record the event with a still camera.

As I was finishing getting geared up (we both wore full jump suits, paratrooper boots, helmets, 28 foot TU-7 mains and 24 foot reserves), Brian beat me to the punch and exited without so much as a warning. I followed right behind him. We knew nothing about still air jumps and we both apparently exited in the same haphazard manner. Two hundred feet below me, to my amazement, Brian began executing a front loop. As I was wondering why he would be performing ariel maneuvers while he was still within ten feet or so of the face, I started my own unintentional front loop, perfectly identical to his.

We had no reason to be real concerned about off-heading openings. That was one redeeming characteristic of the good old round parachute. They were made more to float you safely down to earth than to fly you where you might want to go. There was no chance of clearing the trees and making it all the way to the clearing so our only choice was to land on the rocky talus right below the face.

Once open, the winds were incredibly erratic. At one point I was considerably higher in my open canopy than I was when I opened. I encountered some extreme updrafts and sidedrafts. The wind blew in every direction except directly away from the face. At one point, coming out of a tricky side draft, I made an unfortunate decision to turn my canopy around to face the mountain so I could see when I hit it and kick myself away. Striking the cliff fractured a bone in my ankle. I knew I would somehow have to be able to land on it at the bottom and I could be in trouble.

Brian had worse problems. His canopy collapsed from the erratic winds as he rode the last 50 feet or so down the face of the mountain. Landing on the rocks below with a collapsed canopy cost him some very severe injuries to both his feet. I was very fortunate to end up landing like a feather with my broken ankle.

We both spent some time in the hospital. I was released the same day but Brian was confined a bit longer with his injuries.

We did, however, accomplish exactly what we came for.

Wow! Reading all these is a great way to stay up working nights. Brings back to mind the gang I was so fortunate "I thought" to travel with. OMG which one to tell....OK..This is how I got my muff#. Back in the original ZHills days after finishing off a tank from a muff boogie I was a pack rat with Spacey Tracey...ring a bell anyone? We go for a road trip to hang with another packer in-----. started on the Tequila while making JUST plans to do this A. During this planning it happened to be a full moon...great lets go they said. I get blind folded for some reason even tho my VW bus is transportation of choice. They chant "happy trails for you and me" and I'm thinking this is a prank on me. Oh the road was not feeling like a road anymore and we were there. I get handed a rig to put on, a pair of red ear muffs and I guess WE are going. I think in Tequila vision ...OK. Not sure how high Troy went but he hummed right past us. Tracey says "ey man we don't gotta go that high" So a 2way we go. Troy is limping, Tracey is limping and I barely had a clue what just happened but I also twisted my ankle and limped. But you know how ya gotta hurry it away by the way my vw van diesel had no get away pick up at all with tons of black puffs coming out of the muffler. The best plan was to get to the bar and we'd all be ok. That worked for the night. Troy needed real medical attention and we took him to the ER next day and ended up in surgery. We stayed parked for some time. I was so excited to get my muff#286 or 268...don't remember but one of those.
This was in the early 90's and would never jump under "that state of mind" just in case anyone wants to bust my chops about it. I still think what fuck did I do....and am still here...

This thread is amazing. I'd buy a book full of jump stories like these in a second... all different people, different times, different gear, different objects, different writing styles... you name it. I love it.

okay... here's one:

*** Two Paths Cross ***

Since I can remember, I have always been fascinated with flight. As a child my father and I built model airplanes and went to airshows all of the time. All I ever wanted to do was fly. When I was about 10-12 years old, I saw the National Geographic Special about Phil Smith and Carl and Jean Boenish doing their jumps from the Captain in Yosemite. I can distinctly remember uttering aloud that I would do that someday. Then, during my sophomore year in college - in the first class of my major course work (a biology class) - I was sitting in a desk waiting for the professor to start when a long-haired lanky fellow hobbled into the room. He was favoring one foot as he sat down in the desk in front of me. I asked him what had happened to him and he said, "I had a bad landing off of the Promenade lattice crane last night... ...you ever heard of BASE jumping??" And, of course, I HAD heard of BASE jumping and thought to myself, "I'm on my way!!!" This guy's name was Lyle Murphy. Good Ole Murphy.

Lyle and I talked a good bit about BASE jumping over the course of the next few days and he was surprised that I had even heard of it, much less that I wanted to do it. This was fall of 1989 and few people had ever even heard of BASE jumping. Most people, when you mentioned it to them, just shrugged and looked at you like you were from outer space; I learned very quickly to just shut the hell up about it as it only drew blank looks. Anyway, Lyle eventually introduced me to Earl Redfern.

I remember my first impression of Earl: here is this guy - who lives in a small commercial building inside of which he has set up a number of sewing machines and cut tables and various other implements of manufacture - who does tree-cutting work by day and sews a line of outdoor clothing and gear by night. His place was very disheveled... all kinds of neat stuff was lying around everywhere. Earl had huge boxes full of climbing gear: ropes, harnesses, all kinds of pro, crampons, ice tools... you name it, Earl had it.

Earl also had parachutes. I remember the first time I saw a square parachute up-close and personal: I was bewildered. Mind you, I had never been to a dropzone… never done a skydive. My only experience with parachutes were the games I had played as a child with flat rounds sans lines in grade-school recess. So I suddenly found myself in the midst of two BASE jumpers and lots of cool gear.

Over the course of the next few months, I'd drop by to see Earl - party with him, watch BASE videos, trade stories about our respective childhood and not-so-childhood escapades. Invariably, Earl always had the better story to tell. And that was okay, because I loved to hear him talk and he loved to hear himself talk. Earl would talk endlessly about his endeavors - his climbing, his paragliding, his women. We'd share beers and stories - sometimes until dawn.

I remember the first time I witnessed a BASE jump. Earl and Lyle had decided to go jump a tower nearby and I went along to ground-crew. It was at night, the moon was out and the field around us was akin to a description in the story: _'Twas the night before Christmas_. The moon on the breast of the dew-covered field gave it a luster of mid-day - with dancing sparkles of light beaming off of the blades of grass. It was cold and our breath condensed in the crisp air. The wind was still. My existence seemed surreal. It took an eternity for them to climb the distance necessary to jump (in those days, we'd go to at least 600 feet to feel comfortable for a freefall - this tower is nearly 1200 feet and this night they chose to climb to the top). They finally made it to altitude and after a few minutes yelled (what? no radios?) that they were about to jump. The adrenaline surged through my body in anticipation - I thought it was strange that I was so nervous and it wasn't even my butt that was on the line. I couldn't believe my eyes when they leapt... just a few breathless moments and it was all over. They were both laughing and grinning and congratulating each other. I was happy to have been there. We drank some beers back at Earl's place and talked about their jump.

Over the course of the next several months I watched hours and hours of video (lots of Mike Allen and Bryan Scott video with the Brothers Harrison, Hoover, Payne, et al. - those were some of the guys I looked up to as I was coming along) to learn what to do and what not to do, learned how to pack a BASE rig, practiced emergency procedures over and over and over. Then one day Earl announced that we were going to West Virginia - that this would be a 'BASE trip'. I was terribly excited. I knew that on this trip I would see a dream come true.

We headed off to West by god Virginia in Earl's van. It was packed with me and Earl, Lyle and Janice (Earl's girlfriend at the time). It was also packed with rigs and ropes and video equipment and lots and lots of beer.

It's still a strange thing to tell people that my first parachute descent was a 230 foot direct-bag from _____ _____ Bridge. And so it was... it was like jumping into the arms of God. I basically said, "Here I am!" - did my count and went. I didn't un-stow the brakes and I riser-turned 180 degrees into the wind to land, according to plan. I didn't stand it up, but I didn't care - I had done it!

I believe this is about the time that Earl earned the nickname 'The Wild One' from his peers. News spread of his putting students off of objects with no prior skydiving experience and it made others in the BASE community cringe. Neat thing about it was there wasn't anything anyone could do. Hell, we were renegades - we didn't care! As far as I know, there were only a few minor injuries to any of us and I'm aware of at least six people who did their first jumps under Earl in this manner. Only a couple of us actually went the distance to earn our BASE numbers - the rest bowed out after their first and second jumps.

Back to the 230’ S in W.V. Janice was next and she was not so lucky (she, like me, had no prior skydiving experience). She had the misfortune of missing a toggle (this was the old zoo-toggle system which required a sort of wrist-rotation while un-stowing) on the left side. She managed to un-stow the right side and, with no canopy experience and while struggling with the left toggle, let the right side fly. She frapped-in after about a half rotation of the canopy and ended up with deep scratches on her left shoulder, elbow, forearm and palms (no elbow or kneepads back then - we did wear helmets, though). Earl had to scrub out the bits of coal (there used to be a coal yard there where the big grassy berm is now) that had lodged in the scratches... we did get her really drunk prior to the coal lavage. The plan for me the next day was to freefall The Bridge.

The next morning I ordered a huge breakfast at the 'ern Pancake H' and ate none of it. I was so anxious and apprehensive. My biggest concern was taking a delay long enough to fall past the steel before pitching the pc. I was very apprehensive about how I'd perform during freefall - having never done it before beyond the db I’d done the day before. The landing was of some concern, but I had some time in cessnas and lots of radio control airplane experience, so I figured I could manage that portion of the jump. I just needed to fall past the steel first, then pitch.

The time came to suit up - I would be the first jumper off that day (it was Saturday, September 15, 1990 - one month before Bridge Day). I was wearing a t-shirt, a sweatshirt beneath that, a pair of blue jeans and tennis shoes, and a camouflage jumpsuit over all of this. The rig was a black talon with rainbow colored tuck flap - the canopy was a mesh slider-up astrobe packed in a deployment bag. We did have the appropriate nine foot bridle with a 45" f-111 pc. The closing loop had been loosened for reduced pin tension. That's just how it was done, then.

This was it. I went through my procedures again while riding in the van as we approached The Bridge. We weren't aware of the existence of a catwalk in those days... we went from the rail - how else?? I remember feeling every expansion joint until finally the eighth one bumped under the tires. The van came to rest right in the middle of The Bridge. I got out, climbed up onto the rail, said my prayer, gave my count and jumped. The freefall engulfed me. Warp factor five, Mr. Sulu. I remember looking outward at first, then straight down below me. What an incredible rush!!! I saw the horizon of the gorge engulf me in my peripheral vision. The swoosh of the wind picking up in my ears. I did maintain my count, but I got into the freefall so much that I held the pc until four and a half seconds (planned 3 second delay). I ended up getting open about halfway to the water. I had a 180 opening, which I quickly corrected with riser input, got turned around and un-stowed. I had the canopy lined up on the lz but thought I was going to overshoot, so I turned 90 degrees left out over the river to bleed some altitude. Once I completed the turn I realized that there was no way for me to make the lz and I ended up landing right in the middle of the big whirlpool there beside the lz.

Fortunately for me, Earl had chosen to shoot video from the ground. As soon as I hit the water I cutaway. However, I was unaware of the dangers of parachutes and water (of course not having had water training) so I tried to save the parachute by dragging it behind me as I swam. It didn't take long for me to realize that I was getting nowhere and abandoned the Astrobe to save myself. It was about this time that the reserve container on the talon began to waterlog and, shortly, I was no longer able to hold my head above water. I could see Earl making his way out to help me and once he got to me, we were buddy-breathing; he'd hold my head up while I took a breath then I'd go under while he took a breath. We did this for what seemed like minutes. It wasn't long before my muscles were spent and we still weren't touching bottom. I finally resigned to myself that I was going to die and I remember telling Earl, "Go ahead, leave me... I'll be alright." He shouted, "SWIM MOTHERFUCKER OR WE'LL BOTH DIE!!!!" ...so I swam some more. Finally our feet touched the bottom and I dragged myself to the shore and collapsed. I couldn't move. After a short while I managed to drag myself up into the woods and stash the gear, as planned.

So, I have Earl to thank for saving my life! ... and I did thank him. Even up to the last time I saw Earl, he always talked about how that was the closest he'd ever come to dying. Thankfully, that still holds true for me.

Blues,

Gardner

...In fact, the only "BASE" jump in the 1900's was from the Statue of Liberty by Frederick Law.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once again I have gone and misstated the facts. Tom was kind enough to PM me with the following timeline of fixed object jumps in the 20th century. I should have done a little research before I made this erroneous post. Sorry about that.

1906
A British expatriate named Bobby Leach jumped from the Rainbow Bridge between Niagara Falls, Ontario and Niagara Falls, New York with a parachute in 1906, landing in the Niagara River. At that time the bridge was only about half the distance from the falls that it is now (original bridge was destroyed by ice in the '30's). Leach was a daredevil, twice swimming across the Whirlpool rapids as a stunt. He later jumped from a plane over Canada but was blown back and landed in New York.

1912
Frederick Laws jumped from the torch of the statue of liberty in February, 1912. A photo of the jump appeared in one of Phil Smith's Baseline mags.

1914
Stefan Banic, a Slovak inventor, constructed and tested a prototype of a parachute in Washington, D.C. by jumping from a 41-floor building and subsequently from an airplane. His patented parachute became standard equipment for U.S. pilots during World War I.

1917
Major Orde-Lees and Lieutenant A. E. Bowen made jumps from Tower Bridge on sunday, November 11, 1917 with Calthrop's 'Guardian Angel' s 150' into the Thames to attempt to convince the Air Admiralty to buy parachutes for their pilots.

I have a very similiar experience to yours. It was around that same time even. A road trip to that "basement bridge" with Jester, Spacey Tracey, Mayot, Troy and a couple others. We parked the van at the bottom and walked up to the catwalk. Putting all my trust in Jester holding my pc for me. I must've said ...ok here I go 20 times scared as hell and for some reason whispering up there as if being discrete in broad day light. Finally I go and scream my head off.....whack...open...land. I swear I bounced into that pile of black coal and got a good taste of it too. They were all laughing and I didn't know why until I saw myself inthe mirror back at the van. I looked like a coal miner and I didn't care cuz' I did it. Once off that one was enough and that was just the beginning of the trip......and am still here.

*bump*

Sorry, I NEED more....please?

Great story Lonnie really great read

Excellent tale, Nick. I took my BASE instructions both from Anne and Todd. Then a bunch of us went to Norway with them. I didn't do very well but at least made three at the Fjord. Yes, Anne is an excellent instructor.
BASE719 - Jim

Some other interesting jumps -- in the 1880's one of the Spencer brothers was doing jumps INSIDE the Crystal Palace in London....

In 1912, after jumping the Statue of Liberty, Law did jumps from the George Washington Bridge and the Banker's Trust Building in New York.

In the late 20's, early 30's, Shorty Osborne attempted to ride a motorcycle off the Santa Monica hills and deploy (his parachute caught on the bike and he was saved but still very broken up by hitting hydro wires). Following that John Tranum was inspired to repeat the stunt successfully at Canyon de Chelly. He was supposed to repeat it again at Table Mountain in South Africa, but died on an high altitude record attempt before he could do it. Tranum had also done a jump from a sub-200 foot bridge in California, laying the parachute out on the rail and then jumping.

Found this yesterday:

http://filatore.blogspot.com/...history-25-july.html


Pics are all on the link.

Yeah. I was aware of Reichelt's jump == in fact it took place on the same day Law jumped the Statue of Liberty. I at one time uploaded a picture of Reichelt -- more famous -- about 30 ft before he bounced at the bottom of the Eiffel.

There were at one time a bunch of old Pathe movies from the 20's and 30's on skydivingmovies.com showing some of these jumps, like shorty osborne's motorcycle leap into the hydro lines and Law's jump from the George Washington Bridge.

<<<Pelkey and Schubert are credited with making the first BASE jump>>>

Our only claim was to have been the first two guys to parachute from the top of the El Capitan. We never presumed to take credit for anything beyond that. It is possible that the reason the author credited us to be the "original" BASE jumpers came from sources such as the following exerpts from Nick DiGiovanni's "BASE Jumping History" page on the web:


One day in the summer of 1966 Carl hears a weird story. A story that would change the course of his life. Two skydivers from Barstow, California, Michael Pelky, an accountant, age 25 and Brian Schubert, a truck driver, age 26, decided to parachute off Yosemite's El Capitan. They jumped side by side on a Sunday afternoon at around 5:00 PM and both did decent delays but did not track away from the wall.

and further down:

He thinks of those two "policeman" back in 1966 and more importantly, it's a time when he truly begins to believe. This is the beginning of the "modern era" in fixed object jumping.

With all due respect to the accomplishments of Frederick Law and Stefan Banic, I think it is probably a reasonable assumption that our 1966 El Capitan jump played some small part in the birth of the present sport of BASE jumping.

.

Bumping this. Awesome stories.