Pulling up outside yet ANOTHER Base Hostel (I would sooner have taken death by fire), the first thing I noticed was how postcard worthy Taupo was. Situated upon its namesake, the town entertained shops and bistro style eateries. Most were overpriced and being a frugal cretin I regretfully handed over $16 for a ridiculously enjoyable burger, that I ate with far to much lustful enthusiasm. After all I wasn’t there to pose, dining like a hipster tart, no, I was there to skydive!
Along with the other Kiwi Bus plebs (whom I miss stupid amounts), I ditched my stuff and along with three others, got shuttle bussed off to what felt like my impending doom. My travel buddy chris and our new mutuals, Jake and Katherine arrived at our activity with the sun out, ready to illuminate our gravity induced plummeting. So we were inducted, briefed thoroughly on our safety procedures and after handing over our money (the viceral pain of parting with money as a traveler is unreal), we accepted the possibility of becoming high speed meaty cow pats, or imploding under the mental strain of temporary free fall. Neither of which mattered, because due to ninja like clouds appearing from nowhere it was cancelled for the day.
Day two rolled around quick, accompanied by unexpected nerves. Given a night and morning to stew on it, we were practically laying eggs! Arriving back at the airfield, we suited up, and much to my displeasure with my cap on I looked like even more of a bean head. We partnered up with our experienced divers, and boarded our brightly coloured tin can, that would soon be birthing us at approximately twelve and fifteen thousand feet. I was mildly distracted by hiw ruggedly handsome my dive partner was, but more concerned about having ZERO control over what was coming.
We sat in an electrified silence, I was grinning uncontrollably, watching our tandem partners casually piss around and joke about not strapping us in properly -assholes- until we were ushered to sit in their laps so that we could be strapped in, tighter than humanly possible. Forced intimacy is never a winner, but I don’t know what I was expecting, you can’t really tandem skydive separately can you? Sitting between a stangers legs is slightly awkward, feeling their heartbeat against your back cranks it up to a childlike hilarity.
Reaching 12000ft, Jake and Katherine were the first to jump, leaving me and Chris to ascend to our lofty perch. With barely enough time to blink, or so it felt, we reached our limit and my red headed amigo was ushered towards the door and fell from view. I was then crotch thrusted (as painfully awkward as it sounds) towards the open sky outside.
“YOU READY?!”
I remember turning over repeatedly, feeling gleefully in a sea of powder blue, peppered with bursts of white fluff. I was doing it! It was surreal, falling towards a ground below I couldn’t see, knowing I could do nothing at all. I was loving every second. It also doesn’t feel like flying, just an exhilarating weightlessness. Breaking through the clouds I was floored by the grandeur of the lake, glistening lazily, enclosed by the surrounding mountains. A sudden subtle jerk and our parachute was open. I was encouraged to take the reigns, after nervously arranging myself into a seated position, excitedly pirouetting on the way down.
Spying the base we honed in, soaring over cars, roads, buildings and our landing point. Legs up, we speedily managed to glide over the field, skimming the grass and skidding to a halt. Back at HQ we unbuckled ourselves, fist bumped and I thanked one of the Radlett dudes on the planet, for not letting me die young, and being a part of one of the best experiences I’ve had to date!
I joined my equally elated companions and we were done. I’d done it!
I’D SKYDIVED!!
BoyHog 