Abel Tasman Skydive

Crossing a very choppy Cook Strait we had arrived in the South Island and were on course for Kateriteri, that's when Flea received a text asking whether anyone wanted to skydive in the late afternoon.
The rest is a blur, I think it was only about half an hour between realising "shit i'm doing a skydive" and actually being strapped into a harness and walked up to the aircraft. Because we were losing light they wanted to get us up as soon as possible so things on the ground happened too quick to take in; I remember tucking my knees up to my chin so other divers could squeeze in what can only be called a human sardine can. The plane’s propeller let rip and in no time we had taken off. At this point I was actually surprisingly level headed, even with the planes sharp banking as we continued to climb into the thermals.

I was in a dreamlike state admiring the views for the majority of the ascent right up to the point when our pilot muttered something and the doors where thrown open and wind blasted in. It was that wind and that gaping hole in the plane that made everything real again and made me truly understand what I was about to do. We were at 12,000ft and the training skydivers punched fists with me as a final farewell and one by one with no hesitation disappeared, I stayed glued to the opposite side to the door knowing it would be my turn in no time at all. We climbed ever higher and I remember asking my instructor in the most casual way I could to double check I was defiantly attached to him. We were now at such an altitude that oxygen masks were a necessity. I would be jumping at 16,500ft this would allow me 70 seconds of freefall (that is a long time if you sit back and count) and anything higher is generally reserved for the military. All too fast the doors snapped open, I saw Andy sit on the ledge drop and vanish behind the plane. I shuffled over towards that same ledge, my heart was racing, it still makes me tense up writing about it now, my legs where dangling over New Zealand, my jumpsuit rippling in the furious wind. I leaned back, then forward and I was in freefall. 

It is that first drop that is most scary; leaving the safety of something solid and familiar for the unknown. We were plummeting headfirst at the beginning. I remember the wind relentlessly resisting my descent; It pulled at my face and I tasted its moisture less dry air, soon the mushroom chute was deployed leveling us out. At this sort of height there isn’t really any sense scale so you can’t comprehend that you are falling. By now I was feeling absolutely pumped, I was flying, or falling with style! Taking a look around I could actually see the curvature of the Earth, directly below was the South Island’s mountains, the national park and ocean. In the distance I could just about make out the peak of Mount Doom (Mount Ngauruhoe) shrouded by cloud all the way in the north island. The sun was setting over the horizon and projected a river of golden light across a sea of cloud. In the opposite direction the moon had risen early and remained alone in the delicate blue. It was the quickest minute and ten seconds of my life and I was pulled back (with relief) as the parachute opened. My instructor guided us towards the landing zone and after checking if I get motion sickness pulled some G’s by swinging the parachute into tight spirals. We swooped towards the ground and slid along the grass until coming to a halt. This was such a rush and I remained in the clouds for the rest of the night.