I’m reminded I’m not dreaming

Picture in your mind one of your skydives that stands out amongst all the rest, that took you to a place of pure euphoria, that swept away everything that was on your mind, perhaps a “perfect jump”. Maybe it was a big way event, a record setting jump, a wingsuit rodeo, a kiss pass, that crazy miniskirt jump, or just a memorable solo flight. Now try putting into words the feelings you had…

As I finish my flare and my feet touch down on the ground below I’m reminded I’m not dreaming. I lay backwards into the soft grass, toggles in hand, look up… unable to find the words…

Stacks of puffies from 16k to pull, bliss!

Touchy-feely? Deal with it suckers! Why do I skydive? Is wingsuiting fun? I think you know my answers. I think anyone who has ever been within a half mile of Lurch landing knows his answers also :) Skydives like that are the refreshers of my soul, I wish everyone could experience a fraction of the joy us lucky few who play in the skies get to experience.

This weekend I had such a skydive. Mother nature surprised us with fluffy cotton balls of pure joy littering the sky. As the plane climbed past 16k there was no doubt where my line of flight was going to be. Right out the door and all the way home to pull time I may have been flying solo but I wasn’t alone. Pushing myself to max out the suit, ignoring the mounting pressure on my arms and legs as I screamed through the sky being led home by mother nature’s presents in the sky… It was a never ending puffy farm!

I had never been so exhausted from a flight like that before. What a f’ing blast!

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