Dear friend

On the afternoon of Sunday, July 13th, 2014, I skydived. Skydove? Skyduv? I jumped out of a plane… How far-fetched. I proposed the idea to my mother some months before my 21st birthday, and never actually foresaw myself doing it. But here we are. A birthday present, 5 months late, giving me a rush of adrenaline I hadn't felt before - and cannot wait to feel again.

The day was met with much anticipation. From the moment we arrived, I was so eager. I could not wait to jump. Of course, I had to be briefed. Short training on how to position my legs; not the easiest thing to do upon a cushion on the floor. But after 30 minutes of that, it was a long and torturous day. Long waits in the lobby and café. Watching people leave through the back door and return through the front, excited, pumped and relieved to be back on the ground. The plane also had to refuel a couple of times throughout the day which left it even later.

And then suddenly, after 5 hours of dossing about, my name was called. I almost let out a relieving “finally!!” but I was almost too excited to say anything. Instead, I casually stood up and replied with a “yes? me?” My tandem instructor quickly checked my ‘helmet’ (it was just a piece of leather strapped over my head. At least, that's how it looked.), and guided me through the door. I was greeted by my cameraman interviewing me. Asked why I'm jumping, how I feel; the usual back-and-forth, I take it. I took a few steps up, turned and waved to the camera and sat down in front of my instructor on the plane.

On the plane. I have to note here that I hadn't been in a plane since I was a child. I'm not a good flyer, and I felt pretty anxious. Being trapped in a vehicle up in the sky… nope. Nope, nope, nope. I think I deserve a pat on the back for that alone.

The day was sadly visited by overcast by the time we took off. The plane climbed just over 6 000ft and looking out of the window all I could see was clouds. A cloudy day isn't supposed to look beautiful, but it was. It looked like another world. A world with mountains and bumpy terrain covered in nothing but snow and clear blue skies above. Still paralysed by the fact I was actually on a plane, but admiring the view was in some way a comfort.

We reach 12 000ft and it was my turn to go. Anxiety flooded over me. Partly because I had no idea what to expect, but mostly because I was on a plane. “Don't back out. Don't back out. You'll only regret it,” I kept promising myself. I'd have missed the opportunity of a lifetime¹, and I'd have also pissed away £300+ for nothing. Granted, not my money, but the point stands that it would have been a waste.

Then we scooted over to the exit.  I can't really describe the feeling. Adrenaline mostly. Majestic perhaps? I mean, I was some 12 000ft high. About to free-fall. Don't tell me you wouldn't feel like an eagle soaring through the skies. But yes, mostly adrenaline. Nerves. I guess the best way to compare it would be to a roller-coaster. The initial climb is the worst part, the anticipation; thinking “It's coming. I know it is. Oh, f*$#! We're almost there!” and then the drop happens.

We jumped, and the second we left the plane all fear went out the window (excuse the pun.) Without exaggeration, the greatest experience I've ever… experienced! Absolutely and irrevocably amazing. Refreshing too, with wind rushing to my face at some 120mph. Certainly it's a memory that won't soon be forgotten. I'm looking forward to the photos of my almost-emotionless face. I'm telling you, it's very hard to smile and pull faces at that speed. Imagine sticking your face out of the car window going 120mph. Now imagine smiling. Now imagine being photographed smiling. You wouldn't exactly be sure how to react, nor have much strength against the wind to move your face.

There I was. I was finally doing it. Strapped to a man I just met diving down toward the earth, worried the cameraman felt some disappointment that all he had to photograph was my face being a victim to the G force. Eh, I bet he was laughing inside. “Pffft, first timers.”

When my instructor opened the chute halfway down, I jolted to a near-stop. 120mph down to 10mph oh so suddenly. He was supposed to tap me before he did that! Maybe he did, I don't remember. I was too in-the-moment. The view was breathtaking. All I could see was endless fields and Swansea Bay. I should've pointed and said “hey, look! I can see my house from here!”

We land all too soon. I really didn't want it to be over. My fellow adrenaline junkies and I met with high-fives and exchanges of how awesome it all was. My instructor and I take a photo, he applauds me, and collects the chute ready to go on his way. My only words are “That was amazing! I want to go again!”

It's Wednesday now. Three days later and I'm already contemplating a second jump. I don't think I can ever experience anything quite like it. They say people get addicted to the adrenaline rush, and now I can definitely see why.

I want to go again.