There we are enjoying ourselves in Northern Spain when good ol’ Englishman Richy mentions skydiving. Skydiving?! Jumping out of a moving plane? (Yes, Grandpa, a functioning plane). Voluntarily putting on a parachute and jumping out of a perfectly good aircraft at ten thousand feet or so? Sounds like a great idea, Richy.
“I’ve always wanted to go sky diving,” was basically the group consensus as we sat around chatting that evening in San Sebastian.
Before we knew it, Alex, Brett and I were packed into Richard’s car headed to the East Coast of Spain for a Sunset Jump the following evening.
Hours of On-The-Go playlists and sharing popular music from our homelands was really fun minus the no A/C on a hot day during Spain’s summer. As I stuck to the seat with my thigh stuck to Brett’s, I looked out the window to appreciate the mountainous view.
Spain really was beautiful. They had such an array of scenery to offer. I felt like I was in the mountains of the Rockies then the desert of Arizona then the wooded areas of Kentucky. The boys appreciated my American comparisons or at least pretended to.
After six long hot hours and a few glorious ice cream pit stops, we made it to Benicassim, which is near Castello, between Barcelona and Valencia on the East Coast. A McDonalds beckoned us in with its air condition and WiFi. In a weak moment, I ordered a Big Mac. To everyone’s surprise it was my first Big Mac . Not just my first Big Mac in Europe or Spain, which itobviously was, but my first Big Mac ever. I was decently impressed with it, I guess.
As I enjoyed my high-class meal, Richard called the sky diving place. He informed us that there was not a sunset jump that night, but they invited us out to check out the jump site. Richard happens to be a licensed skydiver, which means he can do jumps by himself. Whereas, the two Australians and I had never sky dived and in that case would be doing what they call a Tandem jump, where you are strapped to another person, who has the parachute and all the good ol’ responsibility of our lives and all.
After a fulfilling meal, we headed out to the jump site. We show up around eight as the sun begins to set. We meet the sky divers and what looked like most of their family just hanging out. A family-run sky diving business perhaps? It had a nice friendly feel regardless of the lack of English speaking that was going on. Good thing my Spanish isn’t too shabby.
Richard never fails to surprise us.
“We are jumping tonight!” he tells us with excitement. I really wish that someone could have documented Brett and I’s faces. I was shocked, but still stoked. They told us we would jump in an hour. Time flew by as we tried to find an ATM and shoes for me since I through my Sperry’s away after they were destroyed when running with the bulls. Also, there was a contract to be signed, which was 100% in Spanish. Is it bad that I find this little detail hilarious? Yup, I signed it.
Before I knew it, Brett and Alex were up in the plane with Richard and I on the ground patiently awaiting their return. When they returned, they looks like seven-year-boys on Christmas morning. Their excitement even after jumping out of the plane gave me much relief. The boys faces were precious and priceless.
When it was time, I got into the tiny little plane with five other people – one being Richy, which gave me comfort at a time of complete chaos. We ascend into the air. With broken English, the camera lady and I held a weak conversation. Carlos, who was sitting next to me, was about to do his 89th jump. How crazy!
I will never forget the view from that little plane. The plane climbed higher and higher. Out my window you could only see ocean. The other side of the plane offered a perfect view of the sun setting behind the mountains. Carlos and the camera lady agreed that this was the best time to jump— sunset jumps simply offer something that others can’t. Carlos even added that this was one of the best places to jump. Richy agrees that Benicassim is the prettiest jump he has ever done, which is upwards of forty or fifty jumps now. Without hesitation, I can say that I am so thankful that my first sky diving experience was somehow so beautiful. The view was breathtaking and I will never forget it.
When it came time to think about jumping, I hopped up on my tandem jumper’s lap. I think his name was Sabe. He didn’t speak much English. The camera lady was leaning over me hooking me up to Sabe. She seemed busy at work then all of the sudden she paused and sat back. She looked at me with utter concern and said, “You can’t jump today.” Her face screamed disappointment to the max. I am sure my face showed the same devastation. “The strap is broken,” she continued. I gave her a look that regardless of what language you speak said, “What the heck?!”
“I’m just kidding,” she said.
“Oh funny,” I replied feeling half annoyed and the half of me didn’t even care that she did kind of get me. Okay, she got me really good, but I was so stoked that my jump was still on.
We continued to have a broken-English conversation about how Spaniards are always so serious. Her sarcasm humored me.
Then we were there: thirteen thousand feet. Time to jump. They rolled up the door, which was basically just a tarp. Carlos and I did a sky diver hand shake that they taught me, and then he was gone. Carlos was out of the plane. What did that mean to me? My turn! Sabe scooted us over to the door. I was still on his lap. He was sitting on the edge of the plane with his legs dangling out of the plane. Meaning I was dangling completely out of the plane.
I love this part of the story because Sabe didn’t ask stupid questions like, “Are you ready?” I always think this is an idiotic question at this point in time because what if I wasn’t ready? What would he do sit there until I was? I am glad he didn’t ask and glad he didn’t do a stupid count down. He just went. We went. I was plummeting to the ground at a whopping speed of about 140 mph. My face was shaking. My whole body was shaking from the wind speeds. I had never felt so free. It was the most exhilarating thing I have ever done. Well at least that day. Then Sabe tapped my shoulder, which meant I needed to cross my arms again for the pulling of the parachute.
After a few moments, it wasn’t coming out. Sabe yelled all these Spanish things I didn’t understand. The ground was coming near. I started seeing white lights. My life became a blur. I’m just kidding. The chute released perfected and all was well. However, it did hurt my legs because of the strong pull of my harness. No complaints. I am happy it worked.
With the chute pulled, I was able to enjoy the beautiful view at an amazing height. The sun was perfectly setting and was peaking over the mountain range in the West. While below me the waves looked so miniscule as they crashed up against the shore. The Ocean looked endless from up there. It was the most peaceful experience I have ever had. This might sound insane being that I was falling to the ground after jumping out a plane at 13,000 feet. However, it is true. It was peaceful just floating above the city with no cares in the world. Well, except surviving thisexperience.
I did though. I survived. Greatest experience yet. I am already planning my next jump. Hope I live to tell about that one, too.
Richard, the crazy camera lady and I after our jump.
A beautiful sunset jump indeed.
The plane I jumped out of. Check out the tarp door, and note that six of us fit in that tiny plane.
Who took that awesome photo of the parachutist and the Sunset? Was it a professional?
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