Great leaps into the unknown

CROSS my heart and hope to fly – Evonne Fletcher realises at 14,000ft, it's too late to change her mind about skydiving.

I SAT on the bumpy bus squashed between an American marine and a smooching Irish couple.

A clipboard was thrust in front of us and we were told to sign our lives away. Literally. Everyone laughed but me. I'd been up the night before unable to sleep, thoughts of death plaguing me and now here it was in black and white.

"In case of my death" . . . somehow my eyes didn't read beyond the first part of that sentence. Skydiving was always something I said I wanted to do before I died.

No one looked at the documents in front of them. No-one but me. They all just happily signed and went back to their smooching and chattering.

Holidaying alone meant I was finally free to do whatever I pleased, no matter how insane. I gripped the pen tightly and scribbled my autograph, more illegible than ever, thanks to my shaky hands.

Once at the Sydney Skydivers' headquarters, an hour's drive south of Sydney, we were segregated into two groups: couples or friends travelling together, and loners. Maybe this was so people could die with the ones they loved while, in my case, my body would be discovered next to that of a strange, 19-year-old American marine with a crooked crew cut.

Some things are best not thought about.

"Whoo hoo! Hi, I'm Drew. I'll be your instructor for the day."

He appeared in a puff of smoke, his face tanned, eyes blue and fingers gold from the millions of cigarettes he must have consumed.

"And what, young lady, are you about to do?" He had a big grin and an American accent.

"Jump out of a plane."

"Jump out of a plane! Yes, you are!"

He sucked the cigarette hard, smiled, and chain-smoked like a demon until it was time to take off.

Now this was a man who liked to live life on the edge: he jumped out of planes 20 times a day and chain-smoked between every jump with a blatant disregard for government health warnings. Yet somehow, his wide grin and golden handshake were reassuring. I trusted him with my life immediately.

Cross my heart and hope to fly

Training consisted of being suspended from a monkey-bar-like pole by two small metal loops in the shoulders of the jumpsuit I had been given to wear. I dangled about 10cm from the ground for about five minutes as Drew told me how and when to contort my body into a flying banana and when to cross my heart and hope to fly.

With clear plastic safety glasses strapped around my face and wearing my red and yellow jumpsuit, I looked like the love child of Luke Skywalker and Ronald McDonald as I headed towards the plane.

We were wedged into the aircraft in jumping order. I noticed a couple of people with helmets on, but I didn't have one and neither did Drew. Why not?

This was it, a full load: eight insane people who, in case of their deaths, had waived any liability. No flight attendants, no mini bars, no refresher towels to wipe away the sweat leaking from their foreheads; just the loud whirr of the engine starting and the smell of anticipation in the air . . .

I watched as the others hurtled out one by one. All the helmet wearers jumped first. Solo. So that's why I didn't have one.

"One, two, three!" and out we went. I couldn't change my mind now even if I wanted to.

"Scream for the camera!" Drew's cheeks flapped against the wind like sails as he photographed the view on our way back to earth. The "in case of my death" thoughts evaporated faster than the white cotton candy clouds we were plummeting through at 200km/h.

At 14,000ft (4267m), everything is so beautiful that you forget you ever had a fear of heights. It's so amazing you no longer care about all the death clauses. You have 60 seconds of free falling towards the patchwork of hills and valleys below before the shoot opens and the five-minute glide begins.

The view was spectacular. The Blue Mountains, the coastline, Sydney's skyline, the M5 highway below, which looks like a grey lead snake etched on to a delightful three-dimensional map.

There is so much to look at you forget to scream. It is the most calming experience ever, like those dreams you have where you are flying through the air. Absolutely magnificent.

The moment we landed I wanted to go straight back up and do it again. In case of my death, so what!

The Sunday Herald-Sun

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