Yesterday, I had the single most terrifying experience of my life so far...
The day was perfect - so little wind, light cloud, much sunshine.
Hot air balloons, microlites, gliders, small planes including a tiger moth, and of course the jumper plane, all took to the skies.
Watching the flights go up to 10,000 feet, seeing specks leave the plane and later unfurl into floating streaks of colour that gently descended from the skies - beautiful, graceful, serene.
And then it was my turn.
Jumper suit on. Helmet on. Harness on. Instructor, check.
First into the plane, so last out... Great! Favouritism, obviously. The longest ride, the most photos, and the brightest parachute. Good to be a girl on occasion.
The ground fell away beneath us at such a rate, and soon we were above cloud level.
Soon, the horn sounded to signify the arrival at 15,000 feet - and time for the highest tandem skydive in the world...
The first out of the door was a group in formation. Wow!
Then other solos, followed by two of my charity group.
And then, lastly, myself and my instructor.
Hanging over the edge was not so bad. But then we jumped...
As soon as we left the doorway, we flipped over to see the black shape of the plane flying overhead. That was an image I will never forget.
When we flipped back, the skydive really began. Oh my... The panic and rush was hard to describe. The sensation of rushing air through fingertips, cold and yet not so. The bank of cloud that approached, the hit, flowing over us. The whoops of joy from my instructor as we hit the first cloud.
I found it hard to breathe properly, as there was still the very real fact that I was not at that point in control of my own life.
Through the cloud, and ground once again appeared.
When the parachute opened, everything was so calm. Beautiful. Only the buzz in my ears as proof of what had just gone before.
Rain falling on parts of the countryside, a patchwork of colour as far as the eye could see. I could see 6 counties, 2 countries, and several islands.
A bit of 'spinning' by instructor-boy sent the world ablur again in a fairground ride kind of a way, but I was not bothered.
Looking below, the plane landed back on the runway, and the first of the jumpers were grounded.
As we came in to land, I could pick out the spectators, and resisted the urge to wave at them frantically.
The landing itself was incredibly gentle.
When I stood up, I could not believe it was over.
Months of anticipation ebbed away, and the exhileration and adrenaline drained my energy on the way home.
Despite the fear factor, I am seriously considering another go... Am I crazy? Could this be another new (and expensive) hobby?
Watch this space...
