"Lightning is God's Beer Light"

"Lightning is God's Beer Light"

That's what Beer Girl said to me as we passed each other outside manifest
after the storm that shut us down Sunday had passed. The Beer Light is what
is turned on at a Drop Zone to signify that jumping is officially over for
the day and that we can now move on to the next stage: drinking. Open
containers of alcohol are strictly forbidden at most operations until
jumping has finished for the day. The Beer Light itself takes many forms. At
some DZ's it's a simple light bulb in a designated spot. If they get fancy
they might put it on top of a building so it can be seen from anywhere in
the DZ. At my home DZ it's a child's toy hard hat equipped with batteries
and a strobe. When we're done jumping, the kid puts it on and runs around
the Drop Zone letting everybody know it's time for the partying to commence.
Yeah you're right, not exactly normal, but as a relative thing how much fun
do normal people have?

We got 2 jumps in on Sunday. The first one went well, I was a second row
diver coming out of the trail plane and got to chase the base across the sky
to get to my slot. As usual Rhonda flashed past me every time to get there
in half the time it took me. At the start of the camp she said she needed to
practice being a late diver, but from what I could see she has that job
pretty much nailed.

At least I Didn't have to worry about John Smith. On the jumps the day
before he was where he was supposed to be, above and offset from the base
looking back up the line of flight. I never give a thought to the cameraman
because he's the guy who is always safely out of the way, hovering above the
burble. But he might not as safe as he thinks he is if I'm a floater coming
out of the trail plane and he's looking down at what he's videoing like he's
supposed to, not up and behind him where nobody should be. But a couple of
times when I launched from the trail plane I tracked up, not over, and found
myself having to dive back down to get to my slot, straight towards an
unsuspecting John Smith. The first time I saw him I thought he was just
another skydiver and moving in the same general direction I was. It wasn't
until I was about 20 feet away and closing fast that I realized he was
stationary and I had to shear off to the side to keep from hitting him. You
can get away with a lot of stupid mistakes at a camp, it's looked upon as
the place to make mistakes and learn, but I'm pretty sure that taking out
the cameraman would qualify as a cardinal sin. Doug wouldn't settle for just
fining me a few cases of Beer, and there wouldn't be enough Single Malt
Scotch in Ontario to be able to apologize to John. Besides, he's from out
west and probably has guns. It didn't go unnoticed though. After landing,
while I was talking to Rhonda, John came up and asked her if he was in the
way of traffic coming over from the chase plane to join the formation. "Not
at all" said Rhonda, "nobody should be anywhere near you." The next time I
found myself above and behind John I gave him a wide berth as I passed.

There is a sequence of "calls" before made before a load so that everybody
knows when they need to be ready. A 20 minute call, a 15 minute call, a 5
minute gear up call, and finally a gear up and go call 'cause the plane is
waiting. For our second jump on Sunday a layer of high cloud started to move
in, but Doug didn't want to lose our momentum so he put us on a "Gear up and
Wait" call. That's a new one. Apparently it means pull on your jumpsuit,
strap on your rig, gloves, and altimeter, then stand around in oppressive
heat and humidity soaking in sweat and wait to see what happens. I'm hoping
it's not a new big-way skydiving technique that I'll be encountering
regularly in the future.

Our second jump on Sunday also went well, on our side that is. Except for a
hard dock on our side that sent a wave through the formation that produced
an effect similar to "cracking the whip" on skates when we were kids. The
people in the middle don't have to worry, they just ride it out. But there
were a couple poor sods on the other side who didn't have someone holding
onto them for them to pass the kinetic energy on to, and consequently when
the wave got to them they got cracked off and sent across the sky. But our
side was fine and that's all that really matters. To me anyway.

That is, we were fine until break off. We all got safely away from the
formation at our assigned altitude with me once again winning the tracking
lottery and heading towards the airport, but as I tracked I noticed a huge,
very low, almost fog-like bank of cloud that seemed to be rolling in from
the lake and was quickly covering the airport. The airport was directly
below me and that seemed to be where the cloud was thinnest so I was able to
quickly spiral down and land, but not everyone was as lucky. By the time the
people who had tracked away from the airport flew back the cloud had
thickened and they had to descend where they thought the airport was. It was
scary enough standing on the ground watching canopies suddenly materialize a
couple hundred feet above, I'm awfully glad I wasn't one of the ones who
sank into that cloud only to see the canopies around me vanish, not being
able to see if anybody decided to turn, or exactly where the many obstacles
in the area were. Everybody landed safely, but unless and until the weather
stabilized we were grounded.

Despite the problems landing, Josee was wearing a grin every bit as big as
the one she had when we took the Bronze. She had wanted to try diving and
wound up seated at the very front of the plane across from Philippe. That's
a tough slot, and only the best can pull it off. No matter how tight things
are jammed up at the door of the plane, in the time it takes to sprint to
the door and throw themselves out the last divers can find the base has
traveled a couple hundred yards and is still accelerating, pulling away
from them. They have the longest distance to go, and have to be extremely
careful they don't overshoot and wind up low. On the video I could see Josee
and Philippe make their slots in excellent time, arriving before some of the
people who had been out the door ahead of them. "That was the Best Skydive I
ever had!" She declared, and the grin confirmed it.

We were debriefing when Manifest called over the PA that "There is a furious
rainstorm expected in the next few minutes, everybody roll up their car
windows" Not 'It's gonna rain", not even "It's gonna rain hard', it was
gonna rain furiously. There was a sudden surge towards the exits with
panicked shouts along the lines of "Screw the windows - my GEAR is outside!"
The picnic tables outside were covered in rigs, cameras, laptops and other
expensive toys all just piled up like rubble.

We had everything under cover in no time flat, and when the rain started it
was indeed, furious. And loud. Most of us were in the hangar and it made so
much noise hitting the steel roof that we had to shout at each other to be
heard.

That was it, we were done for the day, the camp, and the boogie.

The POPS record the Nationals and the Big-Way camp were all (major) injury
free, me and most of my friends got at least one shiny thing on a ribbon
hung around our necks, we all learned some stuff at the camp and while
competing - in some cases about about skydiving, and in some cases about
ourselves. It was a lot of fun, but after 17 days of living out of my truck
I was glad to be on my way home.

On a sad note Tana Nash, formerly of Stratosphere, announced she has sold
her gear and will be leaving the sport. She has met all her challenges and
achieved all her goals. Stratosphere adopted the team I was on in Farnham in
2005, to guide and encourage us through a difficult competition, spending
more time prepping our dives than their own, even as they were defending
their National title. She'll still show up at Burnaby from time to time, but
Nationals will never be the same without her and Rocky coming over, shaking
their heads, saying "Okay, let us show you the way you're supposed to do
that."

Nathalie has expressed concern that perhaps what made the team so ill was
Swine Flu, so I looked up the symptoms on the internet.
"Symptoms include fever, cough, runny nose, sore throat, fatigue, body
aches, loss of appetite, and an uncontrollable urge to fuck in the mud."

Nope. I never once lost my appetite.

There's another Nationals in 2011 and I expect we'll probably be there,

"Once more into the breach my friends". And there's been a challenge made.
Of sorts. Aidan Waters of Tropical Fish and I were talking before 4-way
started and he said "I hope you kick Evolutions Ass! And then we'll kick
yours!" We shared a laugh at the time, but that was before the Cinderella
story came true and we took third place. Aidan, we made a 9 average while
most of the team was sick as dogs and with a total of only 28 training
jumps. At the next Nationals if you feel someone breathing down your neck,
or nipping at your heels, don't be surprised if you look over your shoulder
and find us there. We'll be back. And we've got two years to practice.

I was about to send this email when I received a text message from Diane
Beer Girl Blonde Blue Crazy. She and Johnny Larue were supposed to fly out
Monday afternoon, but instead they have eloped, and are at Niagara Falls
with John Smith who is the official Wedding Photographer. I wonder if they
told Johnny's wife yet?

End of Chapter 4
Next: Wedding Bells on The Rock