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A coming of Age Story from The Camerons of Tide's Way, available for free on Amazon or Barnes & Noble

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Blogging By the Sea
Tuesday, January 24 2012

The first time I jumped out of a plane was on a whim – sort of. My youngest daughter and I had mentioned it might be fun to try, but that was as far as it went, until Lori heard a radio spot about an early season special on tandem jumps at Skydive Chicago. Was I up for it? Absotively! So there we were, two eager beavers signing multi-page waivers with harsh sounding words like death and paralysis, on a Friday the 13th then gearing up to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. I’m not crazy – really! But I do hear a different drummer in my head some of the time. Okay, most of the time. And before you knock it, you really have to try it.

Even if you’re afraid of heights (which I’m not,) there’s something surreal about looking out the open door of a plane two and a half miles up. It just isn’t the same as being at the top of a high building or the edge of a 100-foot cliff. When it was my turn to go, I leapt free of the plane with abandon and was met with the instant rush of wind followed swiftly by the excitement of flying toward the earth at 125 mph. I don’t remember much about that first free-fall. I was too busy paying attention to my altimeter, anticipating the moment I’d pull the ripcord. Then my tandem master and I were under canopy, floating silently through the Illinois skies with a fantastic panoramic view of the skyline of Chicago, some 75 miles away with Lake Michigan spread out behind it. Way too swiftly my feet were on the ground and my first thought was, “I have to do that again!”

In all, I did 22 jumps. Nothing even remotely close to the numbers serious skydivers rack up, but each jump was a memory to savor. I managed to land my first solo jump in the trees, much to my chagrin and my kids’ head-shaking snickers, but I got better. Learned how to land it standing up like I was stepping down off a curb. I learned how to pack my own chute and screwed up the courage to jump it. And I got my class A license.

Skydiving is an extreme sport, and for most skydivers, it’s all about the freefall. That streaking minute or so when you are falling toward the earth at terminal velocity. The brief seconds when you can flip and roll with ease, or fold your arms back and swoop like a hawk as the earth rushes up to meet you. Most skydivers seem to wait until the last moment to pull the ripcord, and many fly high performance canopies designed to get them to the ground very quickly. But, while I admit to being something of an adrenalin junkie and loved the feeling of flying, for me the sweetest part was the canopy ride.

I liked pulling as soon as I could and still manage to land on the drop zone. I savored the moment I was snatched from my perilous descent so abruptly that it took the breath out of me. There was a great deal of satisfaction in looking up at the fully deployed chute spread above me just waiting for me to grasp the controls and guide it where I wanted to go. In the sudden hush, so different from the boisterous sound of wind rushing past at stinging speeds, I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of my ride back to earth.  The experience was irresistible and one I won’t ever forget. I haven’t been skydiving in a while now for a variety of reasons, but you never know. One of these days, I just might have to find another perfectly good airplane to jump out of again.

Posted by: Skye AT 05:41 pm   |  Permalink   |  0 Comments  |  Email
Thursday, January 19 2012
The hardest part of living at the beach is making yourself pay attention to getting things done that don't include enjoying the view, swimming or wading the sea or walking on the sand. I do have a dog which means I have an excuse to go for a walk several times a day - not that I need much of an excuse...!  When I first moved here, I balked at even going off to do errands like buying groceries or stopping at the library and post office. I might miss an hour of precious time in the sun. Eventually, my psyche wrapped itself around the fact that I was NOT on vacation and every day would find me right here by the sea. So, I don't procrastinate about the errands any more. The chores, however, are still up for discussion. Things like painting and maintenance, cleaning the house or dragging out the sewing machine to create a few new leotards for my grand daughters who've all taken up gymnastics now. (And I thought I'd sewn my last leotard when my daughter graduated from college and ended her sixteen year run as a gymnast.)

So . . . right at this moment, I have the sewing machine set up and four leotards cut out and waiting. I have a very blank GMC chart for my hero and heroine in the book I hope to start writing soon and more research on the historical background to do. The floors are covered with pawprints Duffy spread around after our walk in the rain last night. My hamper is full. I need to call my broker about gifting some Exxon shares to my grand children. My checkbook needs balancing and two bills just came in to pay. Zappo's had a security breach and I need to change my password and a few other things. There is still some woodwork that needs painting and my hammock stand could use another coat of urethane. And what am I doing? Sitting at my desk gazing out at the incredible blue sky and frothing white caps on the breaking waves, waiting for low tide so I can head to the beach.  Oh well, there's always tomorrow.....
Posted by: Skye AT 08:49 am   |  Permalink   |  Email
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    Skye Taylor
    St Augustine, Florida
    skye@skye-writer.com

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