I was first trying to think of a clever title for this post, but to be honest when you've jumped out of a plane at 3,500ft and survived the experience smart alec blog titles aren't really so cool any more.

Durham University is lucky enough to have a Free Fall Club, and with some minor hesitation I signed myself up for the first course of the year. The hessitation was due to the £160 fee, but I reasoned that it was the cheapest I'd ever be able to do it - the same centre charges £225 for members of the public. On Friday we got the bus to Shotton Colliery Airfield where our training commenced with signing lots of forms and receiving our BPA membership cards which allow us to legally skydive in the UK.

We had three hours of training on the Friday night, covering everything from different parts of the rig (or parachute), what to do with various canopy problems (the canopy is the big thing that stops one dying), and how to fly around to get a good landing on the airfield. It was rather worrying when they pointed out that nearby hazards included pylons, wind turbines, an industrial estate and the north sea but it was made fairly clear that we'd only hit them by being clueless jackasses. A little stat for you - only 1 in 10,000 skydivers die and it's usually their own fault.

After the training we moved our stuff into a crappy little bunk room (with creaky springs and bunk beds) and spent the evening in the bar chatting with some experienced skydivers. One guy (known as Wakey) was rather drunk and appeared to have ADD but was fairly amusing until we were all trying to get to sleep. The experienced guys had done from 30 to about 2,500 jumps which is quite incredible.

On the second day we had another 3 hours of training, practicing our exits from the plane (you have to arch and count for four seconds before checking your canopy has opened), going through malfunction drills (so that you know how to get your reserve out and prevent death) and shouting a lot (apparently it makes your nerves come out of your mouth instead of somewhere else). Sadly the day ended in disappointment as the cloud never got higher than about 2,000 feet, and we were unable to jump.

Not to be perturbed we returned on Sunday in the beautiful sunshine and after some re-training we were assigned to groups on the plane (called a Porter) and got geared up. After having our parachutes checked and watching a few of our friends descend (one pulled the brakes too early and had a very ungraceful landing) we boarded the plane. I was told I would be first out and as the ground moved away beneath us I began to get a nasty sick feeling in my stomach. Nevertheless once we hit 3,500 feet and the door was opened the drills took over, leaving me sat in the door waiting for the command. The instructor shouted go, I pushed away and promptly forgot everything else.

As a result I ended up doing a barrel roll because I didn't arch properly, but after counting I looked up and saw my canopy open above my head. I quickly went through the rest of my drills, then properly looked around... and it was amazing. There really is little use in trying to describe the feeling, but it was basically flying 3,000 feet up without a plane and being able to see for miles, right out to sea and all the way up the coast. With the toggles on the parachute I could steer left and right, and was basically swooping around as the ground got very slowly larger. Once I was past 1,500 feet I started getting instructions through the radio for where to turn at various points. By this point I was in control of where I went so I made a very good landing, apart from the fact that I forgot to put my legs together so fell over once I hit the ground. Regardless it wasn't painful at all and I collected up my canopy and waited for my companions to land.

Due to my ears popping repeatedly on the way up and down I had lost most of my hearing, so was shouting at everyone for at least 5 minutes (though I was so hyped at this point I may have shouted anyway) but a quick nose blow cleared that up and I went in for my debriefing. I was told I had to make a better exit, but other than that I'd done very well. The instructor was pleased to hear that I enjoyed it, and congratulated me on becoming a skydiver. In the end, if nothing else, it sure beats the hell out of your weekend :D