Soaring on Eagles Wings

aka: Phyllis and Su's Excellent Adventure

Soaring on Eagles’ Wings

aka Phyllis and Su’s Excellent Adventure

By Su Evans, September 7, 2020, OWRII AND II

“If President Bush can jump out of an airplane, why can’t I?”

So began our discussion of skydiving.

“Do you want to jump?”  I asked her.  “Me, too.  Let me know when you do.”

“Oh, really,” she replied.  “Then we will have to get this arranged.  My time is limited, you know.”  

That was last December.  She had just told me she’d been diagnosed with cancer and wondering how long she had to live.  Phyllis was 94, active physically and socially.  Go slow was not in her vocabulary.  She still drove her moped around town, to church and the pool.  But this new diagnosis had her  shaken and concerned that she needed to get everything in order, get everything done before she got sicker.  She wanted to have a wake while she could be there to see all who would come and she wanted to skydive.

Now, ten months later, free of pain, she continues to function well.  The Covid-19 shelter-in-place restrictions has created more isolation than she wishes for.  Her  children nearby come often, daily and more, so she can continue to live independently.  She is amazed that she continues to function well, if slower.   Her children helped her hold a Celebration of Life in her backyard one Saturday in August, just before heading up north to their cabin to celebrate her 95th birthday with a couple weeks of fishing.  But the old dream of skydiving reared its head again.  So...

If you want to plan an adventure in the sky, where do you go?

A granddaughter of Phyllis’s sent us a contact to Des Moines Skydivers who fly out of Winterset, IA, a three hour drive from here.  Our main concern now was the weather--always unpredictable.   While checking out the website for a mid-September date, we saw an opening at a good time only four days out.  The weather channel predicted partly cloudy.  The day before showed high winds and 90 degrees, the day after showed 50 degrees and rain.  If we could just slip in-between there, early enough to beat the clouds moving in that evening, we might, might, have clear calm skies; the skydiving type we needed. 

“Let’s book it!”  

“It might be our best bet!”  

“I’m getting excited again.”  

“We might get this pulled off after all.”  

Phyllis quotes, all!

My main concern after booking it, besides the weather unknowns, was the long drive to Winterset on Labor Day, a high volume travel day.  I decided to sleep on any concerns to see if they woke me up with any uncertainty.  Needless worries, I’ve learned, are of no value.  Sleep I did, (not my best skill,) but nothing was nagging in the pit of my stomach--an excellent sign.  Free to go.   

When I checked in with Phyllis the next day to see what her current thoughts were, she said:  “Excited.  This is really going to happen...FINALLY!” 

I hoped everyone who knew about it was excited for and with her.  

And now, on reflection, we think the day was made to order just for us.  Blue skies all the way down in the morning, light traffic, rest stops where we needed them, and we arrived early.   The temps were right at 70.  Even with a wait of a couple hours the skies stayed clear and the breezes stayed calm.  Any cloud-over was waiting for us to complete our jump.  Even the drive home afterwards was completed before the interstate was packed with cars.  Thank you, God!

Our first impression of the airport in Winterset, where the Des Moines Skydivers operate, was a bit of a surprise.  It was small with parking in a grass lot.  The first family we met asked if we both planned to jump.  When we said yes, they cheered.  The younger daughter asked Phyllis if she could ask her age.  When Phyllis told her 95, she clapped her hands and said: “Good for you!”  “You’ll love it,” they all proclaimed.  No one asked my age–a benefit of traveling with Phyllis.

Fully open on one side, the hangar was packed full of people.  Chutes were spread out on the floor, being straightened, folded and stuffed into pouches.  Everyone seemed to have harnesses on.  The counter had one lady, a couple talking to her, and no one to help us.  My most immediate thought was:   

Is everyone in here only 25?   Then:  Are we in the right place? 

And: Do they have a bathroom?  

Someone standing nearby eventually volunteered that there were two bathrooms in the back, the white doors.  To reach them we had to walk over and around the chutes and people working with them.  They didn’t even look up at us.  It appeared this was business as usual.   As we found out a bit later, all flights/jumps from the day before had had to be canceled for high winds. Those delayed jumpers had filled up the flights for Monday.  Now the beautiful day was booked full, with each of the skydivers going up, coming down, repacking their chutes and going right back up with another first-time jumper.  It was a full house with lots of turn over.  Each time the plane flew and returned, it was cleaned, disinfected, fueled and refilled with jumpers, about an hour turn-around time.  

We were scheduled to take-off at 11.  They said it would be after 12.  So we watched the hangar clear out as the next plane filled up.  It was quiet for a bit and we were able to get registered, watch the required video about what to expect and how the tandem flying would work, then sit at a picnic table to wait.  Each of us had someone call out our name, then come to meet us and tell us they were our jumping partner.  Mine was Roman, a tall athletic man from Quincy, IL who had been jumping since the 90s, Phyllis got AJ, the manager of the club and a friend of her granddaughter--personally chosen, and Kevin’s was another ex-Marine.  Perfect matches for each of us, we thought.   With Kevin and his wife, Carolyn, there, we visited.  We snacked on grapes and crackers, just a little.   The down time did not cause any anxiety; any worry about cloud-cover continued to be unwarranted.  We watched other jumpers float slowly down to the ground.  

And then it was our turn!

Oh, gosh!  I ran to the bathroom one last time! Then Roman came over to teach me the position to be in to start, the shoulder taps he would use when we were free of the plane, the way to hold my feet, and to make sure I kept my feet up off the ground when we landed in a sitting position.  This was his main concern, he said, to avoid injury.  I told him it would be no problem.  What did I know?!

Then the harnessing began, slowly and snuggly.  One of the things Phyllis and I had talked about, that made it seem so safe, was that we were just along for the ride.  These tandem guys did all the work.  So when they strapped us up and tucked in any loose flaps, it seemed to all make perfect sense.  Good job, well done.  

Our personal videographer came over to do an initial interview, then we lined up by the plane with everyone else.  Kevin and I were ready before Phyllis.  In fact, she was the very last and we were all waiting when they decided to go ahead and load the plane.  Kevin and I stayed behind, though, for pictures with Phyllis.  AJ asked if she would like to be the first one out of the plane on this special occasion.  She said,  “Why,  that would be nice.”  So it was decided to send Kevin with his tandem man and photog lady in, then me and mine, then Phyllis with her guys last.  

I assumed the plane would be like all other small planes I’d been in, with rows of seats.  It held 23, they’d told me.  But all assumptions make you blind to other possibilities, don’t they?  And the method of entry was a bit unique, too.  The ladder consisted of the slimmest metal rungs, about 4 steps straight up into the backside of the plane.  A portion of sidewall near the tail was slid open all the way up, so the opening was large, but there were no handles to grab onto.    

Roman came in after me, then had me stand aside while he got behind me. Stand aside?  Where?  The plane was mostly full already and as for the seats?  None.  We all sat on the floor with one person stacked inside the legs of the person behind, whomever that might be.  Two rows of stacked people sitting on the hard floor of the plane.  Jeeps!  Who knew skydivers packed in like this?  Sardines we were.  Finding room for our feet was a bit of a wiggle/crunch.  And there we sat for the 20 minutes it took to climb up to 13,000 ft, our designated departure altitude.  At one point my cameraman, with cameras mounted on his helmet, asked me how I was feeling and what I was expecting while he recorded my response right there on the plane.  In the resulting video, the sound of my words are lost, but I did seem to have something to say.  I think he wondered how I got the idea to skydive.  Over the years I had had occasion to fly in small planes, one an open cockpit biplane that I’d love to experience again.  I found I loved the view from up high.  The patterns, the colors, the freeing feeling of being aloft--all incredible.  I told him that when Phyllis had first mentioned it months ago, I had impulsively said, “Me, too.”  So here we were.  I wasn’t feeling anxious, as I had thought I might be.  

The only downside was that I had eagerly watched out the big door that they’d left open, until we were at about 9,000 ft.  It was ahead and to the right side of me.  I could see the earth getting smaller.  As they shut the door and I looked away, I realized I was a bit motion sick.  Oh dear!  It is not a common issue for me.  Throwing up was not in my plan.  Being embarrassed was not either.  So I spent the next minutes talking myself down and staring straight ahead.

Roman leaned forward and asked if my harness straps felt loose.  Gee, yes!  Yes they did!!  “Do they need to be tightened up?”  I asked him.  He told me to put my thumbs under my shoulder straps, then asked if I could touch my fingers together in front.  Yes.  Yes, I could.  “Now what?”  “Pray,” he said.  “No really, let’s tighten them,” I told him.  “It’s a joke,” he said.  “It’s just a joke.  They are fine.”  What?  Really?  That’s not funny, Roman.  

NOW I had my doubts!!

Roman asked if I was still ready to jump.  When I said yes, he finished my instructions.  We’d be going out in about 5 minutes.  He asked me to put my hands on his thighs, push down to lift myself back toward him while he fastened his harness to mine, then slide back down to the hard floor to wait.  Each of us did this as we made attempts to disentangle our feet.  I had to pry Kevin’s shoes from ahead of me, out of his spot.  That freed me.

Now it was time to jump.  

The back side of the plane slid open again.  Phyllis’s camera person went out quickly, then AJ with Phyllis pushed out next.  We watched her tumble away.  We were to hold on to our harness at chest height, lean our head back and up against our partner, then swing our feet back behind us once we were out, while arching our pelvic area forward as our center of gravity.  Then our skydiver partner did his job.  He leaned forward in the door while checking to make sure my head was back against him.  Then he swung back and forward again where we pushed us out into the air, away from the plane.  

That was a shock--the biggest shock so far--the force of the wind, the roll, the tumble.  The plane was going 100 mph, or more, which meant the air we stepped into was a strong force going the other way.  We were forcefully pushed to the left and down, around, and upside down, before Roman brought us back into an upright position.  And there, in my face, was my videographer.  I was totally discombobulated, not sure what was happening, not thinking I wanted that camera in my face just then, but there he was!  He seemed to stay a long time and expect me to perform, but I really just wanted to look around.  I doubt that will be the shining moment on my video! As we cleared the plane and did our freefall, Roman waved to him, pulled a cord so that our parachute canopy opened above and we jerked up short with a significant plop as it reached its ultimate height.  We stopped.  Still.

Roman told me to stand on his feet and scoot up.  At this point he disconnected us at the waist area.  It sort of felt like he was turning me loose!  After a tiny bit of a panic, I remembered he said he would do that to make it more comfortable.  Then I let my feet loose so they were dangling below as we now floated in the air.  Just floating.  Looking straight ahead to the hazy horizon 50 miles away, a wisp of whitewashing across the sky.  Looking out to the fields of green and gold.  Looking at the ribbons of white roads.  Looking at the clusters of buildings that must have been Winterset.

This became my favorite part.  No more wind or jerking.  For the next five minutes the air was quiet.  Roman was able to turn us slowly around and back again to scan the entire sweep of our section of Iowa in all its beauty.  The irregularly shaped clusters of dark green trees were everywhere in this hilly region of our state.  The fields were in various sweeping contoured patterns of corn, soybeans, mown hay, and pastures.  The colors changed and returned in a myriad of earthen hues.  If only I had my camera, my paintbrush, my watercolors.  We slowly drifted down, slowly took it all in over and over again.  It seemed we were standing still.  I had thought it would be over in a minute.  I had no idea it would be so casual, so graceful, a leisurely stroll through air, calming, peaceful, serene, awe-inspiring, so so beautiful.   This part does not show on the video; only a hint from the videographer’s view.  But in my mindview, this is the part that will last.  

And now the landing.  I realized we have been drifting lower all along.  I saw the landing field and a few canopy chutes already on the ground.  Keep feet up.  Keep feet up.  Keep feet up--higher.  We were now low enough to almost be down and my legs are already a bit weary of holding up these heavy shoes.  So I draw up my knees.  A bit more.  Almost down, but still scooting quickly just above the grass while I see two guys running, hesitating, hurrying toward us.  Just as we finally stop, my shoe heels catch on the grass and I fall forward with my legs folded back behind me, onto the grass, which of course brings Roman forward, too. I hope I’ve not hurt him!!

Roman is shouting,  “Are you ok?  Are you ok, Sweetheart?  Sweetheart, are you hurt?”  (Now wasn’t that sweet of him to fall in love just at the moment of landing?  Or had he forgotten my name?!  Ah, yes.)

“I’m fine.  Are YOU Ok?” I asked him.   And so, with the help of two strong  men beside me and Roman behind me, I nimbly pushed up off the ground and stood up.  No pain!  No injury!  No hurt!  Yeah!!!   Piece of cake!

The videographer was there, too, to get a view of my windswept hair and wide grin.  He asked for words of wisdom.  He did not get any.  Too soon.

Phyllis and Kevin were coming toward us.  They had thought to bring out a wheelchair to push Phyllis back into the hangar, for which we were all grateful.  It was a bit of a walk and we found our legs were feeling wobbly after that half hour experience of sitting, then floating in the air with dangling feet.

As we rounded the landing area, we came in view of the hangar, full of people waiting for their own flights or crewmen or jumpers.  They started to clap for Phyllis.  They clapped her all the way into the hangar.  When she got near enough for them to hear, she said,  “Drinks are on me.”   The group loved it.  As AJ was removing her harness, a lady came over and said,

“I heard you wanted a drink.  I have some apple moonshine.“  

She poured a little into a cup.  When Phyllis took a sip of the straight whiskey, she made a face.  The lady asked her if she liked it.  Phyllis said,  “The jump was better.”  The audience loved it again.

What a glorious adventure, perfectly executed.  We three jumpers were delighted with our experience.   We didn’t linger very long before deciding to head home, but first we made a stop at the Hogback Bridge of Madison County--two miles away, too close to skip.  We only stayed long enough to take a picture before heading back to Winterset for food.  We’d eaten very lightly, to avoid getting sick on the plane and now I thought we needed nourishment.  We ordered a hamburger, fries and two strawberry shakes.  I ate half the hamburger, Phyllis ate some of the fries but the shakes went down nice and smooth.  Then we headed home.  

One crazy, but satisfying adventure, two tired but smiling adventurers.

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