WFFC story

[Jessica 0]

Well, I'm back, and I'm at work, and my 4.5 days in Rantoul are already feeling distant and dreamlike. I left the WFFC at 6 a.m. this morning, got into San Antonio at 2:30, went home and made sure the birds were alive and changed clothes, and headed to work.

It was an incredible time, and WFFC has a repeat customer in me. There was something for everyone there, at any level, any discipline, any plane preference, anything anything anything.

Anyhow, I'm going to try to make myself write up some of the stuff I did, just so I don't forget it. Here's what I did yesterday morning...the quotes and stuff aren't accurate; it's just what I remember.




So I'm a whuffo. So what?

It wasn't much later than 6 a.m., and the sunrise, a virtual stranger to me, was illuminating something I found incredibly odd.

There were more than a dozen skydivers blinking sleepily, standing in a wet field, dressed in garish freefly suits, clutching helmets and looking horribly out of place. But that wasn't the odd part.

What I was baffled by that morning was the chipper horde of sweatshirted people who were happily stretching out massive wads of nylon and manhandling giant wicker baskets and just generally behaving weirdly.

It was the beginning of my last day at the World Freefall Convention, and Eric and I were starting off the festivities by jumping from a hot-air balloon.

My God, I thought, watching what I saw as an inordinate amount of work as they filled the balloons first with cold air from a big fan, then with hot from a flame. How and why does someone get into this? It looks like so much trouble, and it's got to be expensive as hell, and....

Then I stopped. And smiled. I am, I had just realized, a balloon whuffo.

Eric suddenly and unexpectedly started helping the crew inflate the balloons. He's been on balloon crews before, he told me, so I filmed him with his camera helmet and finally the massive thing started to lift off the ground. We were on the second hop, so we hung onto the basket for ballast as the two jumpers going first got settled in, then it lifted, and drifted, and was over the trees and gone.

We hopped into the back seat of the chase truck and followed our balloon down the roads of Rantoul with the crew. They were very chatty, and Eric promised them a video of our jump and got an address. After a while, we saw canopies -- one of the jumpers from our balloon had a BASE rig, and it popped open in an instant. Eric and I winced. A few minutes later, the balloon touched down in a field, and Eric and I ran from the truck and climbed on board as fast as we could and it lifted off again.

The pilot was a very nice woman named Leslie. She was making conversation, but I am, believe it or not, terrified of not-very-high heights, so I doubt I was very interesting. When we reached a couple of thousand feet, I relaxed a little, and asked her if she'd ever dropped jumpers before. Nope, she told us. In 30 years of ballooning, she'd always refused. "It's terrible stress on the balloon," she said, "and I'm the one with no parachute."

After a few minutes, Eric and I climbed up opposite sides of the basket and perched there, waiting for the balloon to climb high enough to jump. The absolute quiet, the view, the very situation were mind-blowing. I was trembling so badly I vaguely worried about shaking myself right off the basket.

At about 6K, Leslie put the balloon in a sharp descent, to mitigate the effect of the sudden loss of 300 pounds from the basket. "Anytime you're ready," Leslie said. I gave her a sick look, gave the most pathetic count I've ever given, and leaped. And fell. And screamed. And heard myself screaming. In freefall.

Then all of a sudden I felt the wind pressing against my limbs and I was back in control and I tracked for a couple of seconds and dumped. Yahoo!

I had told Eric I was going to follow him down, but he can fly his canopy, and I, well, I can set myself down safely. I saw him put his Cobalt 150 down in a tiny front yard amidst the corn fields and bean fields, and I knew I'd be eating shingles or telephone pole if I tried that. So I landed in the middle of a sopping-wet bean field, picked my way out, and met Eric, both of us grinning happily. "You look wet," he said. I smacked him.

So there we were, stranded in the middle of God-knows-where, in full gear, and my new Firefly pants were wet, dirty and cold. Eric saw another balloon about a mile away, and we started walking toward it, hoping to hitch a ride with another chase car. But I was slow as hell with my wet pants and heavy gear. (Plus I'm lazy.)

Then a car stopped, and an elderly couple leaned out. "Do you need a ride?" Do we!

We stuck the gear in the trunk, and started directing these poor random people to chase the balloon. A few miles down the road, we passed another chase truck and made the couple stop. "Hurry!" the crew was yelling, so we yanked our gear out of the trunk, yelled our thanks over our shoulders, and jumped into the back of the truck as it was pulling away.

We chased the balloon into someone's backyard, and Eric and I took off running to reach the balloon as it touched down. We grabbed the basket and held it down. "Good job!" the pilot said, and I puffed up like I'd just invented silly putty.

The balloon deflated enough to fall to the ground, and Eric and I took charge of the left side. Our job mostly consisted of throwing our bodies against the reams of nylon to keep them from rolling into a tree or something.

Packing up a balloon is a lot like packing a parachute, except bigger. And heavier. It took six of us to squeeze the air out of it, then to work as a sort of chain gang folding it into a huge bag. Again, as we wrestled with all that heavy fabric, my balloon whuffo-ness manifested itself, but I beat it back. It wasn't hard to tamp down; I was having one hell of a good time.

At that point, we had a slight problem. There were four members of the chase crew, six skydivers, six unpacked and messy skydiving rigs, one huge bag o' balloon, and a 5-person wicker basket all needing transport. And one truck.

The balloon, basket, and crew got the good spots, and instead of any of us skydivers riding inside the truck, we opted to use the space for our gear. That meant we were riding back to Rantoul in the back of the truck -- two sitting against the cab and four inside the basket. I took a look at the way that basket was strapped on and was suddenly inclined to climb in the cab with the rigs, but I didn't want to look like a wuss. So I climbed into a giant wicker basket for the second time that morning, and held on.

Speeding along those country roads standing in that basket was fun. We waved to bewildered children playing in their yards. We stopped and asked a bemused jogger for directions. The wind felt great on our faces and we stood in the basket and drank up the morning.

Then we got on the highway, and if the freezing wind didn't drive me to hunch down in the basket, sheer terror did. But I snuggled up to Eric and warmed up and almost fell asleep.

Four hours after we woke up and a 50-mile round trip later, we were back at the WFFC. We waved at the balloon crew as they drove off, and I still didn't get why they did what they did. That ballooning stuff, it was fun once, but I just don't see making a lifestyle out of it. But I shrugged and forgot it, because there were planes that needed leaping from that called for my attention.

Skydiving is for cool people only

[Ducky 0]

Thanx for the smile Jessica. I'm green with envy, but smiling none the less.

Kwak

Sometimes your the bug, sometimes your the windshield. Sometimes your the hammer sometimes your the nail. Question is Hun, Do you wanna get hammered or do you wanna get nailed?????

[ScottishJohn 25]

Great story Jessica.

I loved it when you descibe yourself as a balloon wuffo, LOL

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If you think my attitude stinks you should smell my fingers

[skymut 0]

Great story, I enjoyed it. Question though: Was that your FIRST balloon jump?

Matt
A well-informed person is somebody who has the same views and opinions as yours.

[BikerBabe 0]

Great story, Jessica!

LOL about the balloonists...it's true. I think aside from skydivers, they are probably one of the closest-knit "sports" communities out there.

They have their little traditions, too. If you had landed with the balloon on your first balloon flight, you'd be subjected to a somewhat bizarre ritual involving a prayer and some alcohol (I won't reveal the details, of course, it's kind of supposed to be a surprise).

Imagine a field full of 1000 balloons and thousands of balloonists...one of the cool things about living here in Albuquerque.

Never meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup!

[PalmettoTiger 1]

Awesome story! Thanks for sharing.

PTiger

I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating in a most peculiar way

[ADRNALN 0]

Thanks for the great story, made my Friday at work worth while.

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[txojumps 0]

Great reporting....Thanks for sharing

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Awright, guys, you don't have one, so don't act like one

[DTOXX 0]

I wish I had something more original to say but Great Story.

Thanks

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D.T. Holder
SIMstudy

[Keith 0]

Thanks for sharing Jessica. I got a big grin remembering my first balloon jump. Very well written.

Keith

Don't Fuck with me Keith - J. Mandeville

[SkyDekker 1,465]

you bastard, I am sooo envious......

[Deuce 1]

Balloen whuffo! Har!

Thanks.

[Jessica 0]

Heh, thanks you guys. Writing about skydiving makes me feel positively inarticulate. I appreciate the comments.

If work is slow again tonight then I'll try to write up some more. I don't want to forget a single moment of the convention, but I've already lost so much. I guess this is why freeflyers wear cameras all the time.

Skydiving is for cool people only

[FliegendeWolf 0]

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Then I stopped. And smiled. I am, I had just realized, a balloon whuffo.

I think this makes an interesting point about about tolerance (or acceptance, if you prefer). In life, there's just not enough time to do everything, so we prioritize, and get really good at a few things. Naturally, since we build our identity around these things, we have a lot of pride and affinity for them. The thing is, other people have prioritized other things, and have an affinity for those things which we do not understand. This isn't just skydiving, either. This is anything in life. Some people go to graduate school and get a PhD, some people become mechanics. Some people like to go out until 4:00 AM, others would rather stay in. Some people skydive, others hang glide. Ultimately, we are all Whuffos in many many different areas, and knowledgable in only a few. I am a Whuffo when it comes to going to business school, gardening, baseball, eating tripe, working a graveyard shift, the list goes on and on.

A One that Isn't Cold is Scarcely a One at All

[PLFKING 4]

VERY nice.

I especially liked the description of your screaming, "falling" exit.....it re-fuels my anticipation of my first zero-wind jump.

"In space, no one can hear you scream".........

Don

[Pammi 0]

What a fantastic story! I'm so jealous! I can't wait to try a balloon jump, but I shouldn't whine..Merrick still hasn't even done a CASA or Helicopter jump and at least I was able to do one of each while he hobbled around on crutches

[skymut 0]

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AHHH, your words are full of wisdom, grasshopper.
Seriously, good point.

Matt
A well-informed person is somebody who has the same views and opinions as yours.

[FliegendeWolf 0]

Thank you, sir!

A One that Isn't Cold is Scarcely a One at All

[TEB6363 0]

Great job Jessica, nice story.

Once the plane takes off, you're gonna have to land - Might as well jump out!!

[Michele 1]

Thanks for posting that, Jess! Great story!

Ciels and Pinks-
Michele

~Do Angels keep the dreams we seek
While our hearts lie bleeding?~

[Iflyme 0]

A balloon whuffo no longer!