Parachuting in Pluggerville (1975)
During the summer of 1975, my college roommate and I decided to do a parachute jump. This decision was reached after ample amounts of alcohol and male egos were mixed together. Our second decision was to select the proper site for parachute training. We picked Pluggerville’s Bird Nest Airport because it met our major consideration - CHEAP!
We drove to the airport one Sunday and began our intensive 4 hour training session that included jumping off an old refrigerator. This simulates the impact one should expect from a parachute jump. We watched films and practiced emergency cut-away procedures to round out the training experience.
The time came to go to the plane for the jump. I was nervous and requested the first jump position hoping to make the jump before my courage ran out. We loaded into an old 4-seater Cessena that had been converted into a jump plane. Convertion means the passenger door had been removed to provide a jump exit and all seats except the pilot’s seat had been removed.
My anxiety mounted as I climbed into the aircraft because I had never been in a plane before! The engine started and I found myself clinging to the windshield with my right arm and to the instrument panel with my left hand while kneeling in the front of the plane.
The plane climbed to an altitude of 3000 feet for the jump. The jump master motioned for me to exit the plane as we approached the jump zone. I climbed out of the aircraft and stood on the wheel. The pilot uses the brakes at this point to help you stand on the wheel until you reach the jump zone. He releases the brake if you don’t jump.
This was my first jump, so I had a static line. This is a 15' nylon cord attached to my rip cord on one end and attached to the pilot’s chair on the other. At the jump master’s command, I pushed away from the plane. The static line caused the chute to open almost instantly. It was obvious how important correct adjustment of the parachute straps between the legs can be.
I had what seemed like several minutes to enjoy the solitude and rush of the parachute jump. Occasionally, I would receive instructions over the walkie-talkie strapped to my chest. The instructions were course adjustments to insure that your impact was near the airport and more importantly, not on someone’s home, car, concrete or power lines. The walkie-talkie was a one-way communication device because the ground crew was not interested in listening to you!
I wore glasses in 1975 and I was afraid of breaking or losing them on the jump, so I made the jump without eyewear. This made it difficult for me to correctly judge the moment of impact. Jumpers are supposed to roll with the impact, instead I "hammered" into a freshly plowed field. The result was a serious sprain of my right foot. This would swell to the size of a small melon and take several weeks to return to normal. I gathered my parachute and limped back to the jump site.
I never jumped again. The swollen foot and the obituaries section of Parachuting Monthly convinced me that one experience is enough. But it is a memory that I will have forever.
-Wayland