the other side, I would be ... changed,
right? Empowered. That was the idea.
So far, I just felt sick and scared.
B
arry introduced us first-time
jumpers to the gear we’d be us-
ing, explained how the various
safety mechanisms worked, and in-
formed me that if I tried to grab on to
the plane as we jumped, latching on
in a last-minute panic, he would break
my fingers to release my grip if he had
to. His tone suggested that it wouldn’t
be his first time doing so.
I signed the bluntest waiver form I’d
ever seen. “Sport parachuting is not
perfectly safe,” it read. “We can not
and do not offer any guarantees. We
do not guarantee that either or both
of your parachutes will open prop-
erly. We do not guarantee that indivi-
duals at SkydiveBC North or Guardian
Aerospace Holdings Inc. will function
without error. We do not guarantee
that any of our backup devices will
function properly, and we certainly do
not guarantee that you won’t get hurt.
You may get hurt or killed, even if you
do everything correctly.” The form did
nothing to calm me down. I signed my
name and handed it over.
Barry showed me how we would en-
ter and exit the Cessna. The plane was
tiny, and when we launched ourselves
through its low doorway, we would be
harnessed together. There was a care-
ful protocol to follow. I’d pictured us
stepping out of a full-height doorway,
or even a yawning, garage-style open-
ing, like in the movies. But the small
plane, plus our joined bodies, de-
manded an awkward crouch-and-roll.
For some reason, the sheer impossi-
bility of the maneuver—really, I was
going to tandem-somersault out of a
tiny opening in midflight?—calmed
me down. This couldn’t be real. It
seemed like a joke.
Then, suddenly, it was time. I
pulled on my fluorescent jumpsuit,
my helmet, and my goggles, and I got
cinched into my harness. I faced the
camera, declared my intentions, and
climbed into the plane.
We were airborne, rising up above
the desert, Carcross, and Bennett Lake
stretching away into the mountains.
The landscape below me was famil-
iar, comforting. Countless times I had
hiked it, biked it, paddled it, driven
it, flown over it in commercial jets.
I’ve never minded flying; it was the
THE LANDSCAPE BELOW ME WAS FAMILIAR,
COMFORTING. COUNTLESS TIMES I HAD HIKED
IT, BIKED IT, PADDLED IT, DRIVEN IT.
108 april 2020
Reader’s Digest