Cloud Cuckoo

Today started beautifully bright but by the time we were ready jump an almost unbroken blanket of cloud enveloped us.  It wasn’t like this a few weeks ago.

It had been one of those astonishingly clear winter’s day.  And, nearly two and a half miles up, one could see for miles - at least forty miles, actually, all the way home.  To my home, anyway, I’m not sure about anyone else’s.  My love of flying, aerial photography and a bizarre fascination with maps make these flights up to altitude more bearable.  The prospect of leaping out still terrifies me so I distract myself by sightseeing out of the cabin window.  And pointing landmarks out to my fellow jumpers.

‘Look!  That’s the old Sheffield to London railway line. 
‘And that over there.  That’s the old US airforce base.  That runway is ten thousand feet long. 
‘That’s the distribution centre at the motorway junction over there. 
‘There’s the motor-racing track. 
‘Oo, Oo, there’s the cement works. 
‘And you see that water in the distance?  I live near there.’

Although I’m sure the other skydivers were riveted, I soon noticed that they appeared less focussed on the conversation.  I suspect it was something to do with the noise inside the plane.  Or their own pre-dive checks.  Or something.  And there I am, demonstrating what a really cool dude I am.  I’m sure they got the impression though.

Today there was nothing to see: we sought glimpses of blue sky.  The regulations say that if you can see the airfield from the exit point, even if it’s only through a fleeting gap in the cloud, then it’s okay to jump.  Some, with clearer minds than mine, might say that it’s never really okay to voluntarily leave a perfectly good aeroplane while it’s flying but what’s the point of having a clear mind if it’s never blown away?

Still rules is rules.  I think a lot of regulations are bunkum but being able to see where one needs to land doesn’t strike me as entirely unreasonable.  Today when I peered out of the plane all I could see was a billowing mass of cotton wool.  We could have been over the South China Sea for all I could tell.  The jump-master seemed to think it was okay though.  He was first out and I think that said something.  Like lemmings, we followed blindly into the whiteness.

Jumping into cloud can be quite fun.  If you hit a thick one, and thankfully they’re always soft, it can be quite a trek to the edge before leaping off again.  Depending on how fluffy the cloud is, the hike can be a struggle - a bit like wading through candy-floss, only colder and less sweet.  Worse still, sometimes you can walk over a thin piece and fall straight through: that can be quite a surprise.   No problems today though.

I had been a bit worried about jumping after my recent bug but a good dose of extra strong medicine seemed to do the trick.

Comments

[Mrs RW]

I think the cold medicine took whatever sense you had left. That quote about jumping out of a perfectly good airplane seemed very familiar. Hmmm...

[Caryl]

you! I not stupid enough to believe your stories again. Who would think that you can walk over clouds?!

[Carlton]

Oh, come on, Mrs RW, you're not fooling anyone: I know you're itching to have a go yourself!

And Caryl, I forgot to mention how blue the motorways look from all that way up. ;-)

c.

[Mrs RW]

I say, once again: why would anyone want to jump out of a perfectly good plane? Maybe if Princess Granddaughter fell out of the cargo door, I'd jump out. Why? It's not like I could drag her back in, but in this instance I'd feel like I was doing something constructive. I'm not sure what, but what the hell...