By far the coolest thing I’ve ever done...

I woke up early my 2^nd day in New Zealand. I made instant coffee and French toast. I put my bed (surfboard bag) away. I drove about 20 minutes out of town. I arrived to skydive. There was 1 guy there. The other was on the way. I tested out a suit and hopped in. The only guy there put the harness on me and started adjusting and tightening the straps. Quickly the man stepped back and looked at me in a confusing manor.

“Ah, I’m not even sure how these things work,” he added as he walked back behind the counter.

“Here we go,” I thought to myself as I gave fake laugh out loud. With the arrival of the other guy, I found out that the first guy was only the pilot. Slightly more relieved, I signed my death wavier liability and paid while I sipped on what could possibly be my final cup of coffee. The harnesses were fastened and we walked out back to the little plane and did a couple of dry runs on what would be happening. Within 10 minutes of arrival we were on the runway in the plane which didn’t have any other seats, besides of course the one for the driver. As the altitude rose I made a conscious decision that one day I would have “Pilot” on my resume. I could see the entire Bay of Islands now. I looked below during one of the steep turns. I enjoyed the view rather than processed what I was about to do in the following 5 minutes. I wish I was more scared. The “old LB” would have been. I tied my camera to a strap which I’m pretty sure isn’t normally allowed. We locked up before the door flew open. That was a noise that I’ll never forget. Holy Shit!

“Head out to the wing,” I was directed.

I proceeded. My eyes were as big as saucers and my stomach was inching north through my ribcage with an intended destination of my throat. I looked south through the clouds to the very hard ground below. I received a tap (meaning the go ahead) and we were off. This was a dream. Surrealism took over my brain and vision as “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” by The Who blasted over the sound of the intense wind zooming past my face. As memories can seem both “like yesterday” and yet “years ago” instantaneously, flying 120 miles per hour towards the earth can seem both like slow motion yet incredibly fast at the same time. Complete Elation...

The shoot was pulled and it all sank in. We were still very high up: cruising, flying, pulling the straps and doing turns. Although there was a huge man of 6’4” and well over 200 pounds, I couldn’t tell. I was free.