Mud Sweat & Tears - Bear Grylls [73]
That cool evening, high in the sky above the desert plains of Africa, was one such life-changing, life-defining moment.
PART 3
‘There is no education like adversity.’
Benjamin Disraeli
CHAPTER 66
In the summer of 1996 I was helping out for a month on a game farm in the northern Transvaal in South Africa, culling deer and advising on how to keep poachers at bay. I was working alongside the black workers every day, and being paid for the privilege.
I decided to head north to Zimbabwe for some down time, and some fun. To spend some of my wages, before heading home to the UK.
Fun, for me, meant skydiving with good friends, with cool drinks in the evening.
Life was all good.
The sky was beginning to fade and the brilliance of the African sun was being replaced by the warm glow of dusk.
We huddled together in the small plane, and my feet began to get cramp. I tried to tense them and get the blood flowing again.
As is often the case, there was no eye contact with the others as we climbed up to nearly sixteen thousand feet. People were engaged in their own little world.
The plane levelled out. The guys became alert again, checking and re-checking equipment. Someone reached for the door.
As it slid back on its rails, the ferocious noise of the engine and 70 m.p.h. slipstream broke the silence.
‘Red On.’
All seemed strangely serene as we stared at the bulb flashing at us.
It flicked to green.
‘Go.’
One by one, the guys dropped from the door and quickly fell away. Soon I was alone in the cargo area of the plane. I looked down, took that familiar deep breath, then slid off the step.
As the wind moulded my body into an arch I could feel it respond to my movements. As I dropped a shoulder the wind began to spin me, and the horizon moved before my eyes.
This feeling is known simply as ‘the freedom of the sky’.
I could just make out the small dots of the others in free-fall below me, then I lost them in the clouds. Seconds later I was falling through the clouds as well. They felt damp on my face. How I loved that feeling of falling through whiteout!
Three thousand feet. Time to pull.
I reached to my right hip and gripped the ripcord. I pulled strongly. Initially it responded as normal.
The canopy opened with a crack that interrupted the noise of the 130 m.p.h. free-fall. My descent rate slowed to 25 m.p.h.
Then I looked up and realized something was wrong – very wrong.
Instead of a smooth rectangular shape above me, I had a very deformed-looking tangle of chute, which meant the whole parachute would be a nightmare to try to control.
I pulled hard on both steering toggles to see if that would help me.
It didn’t.
I started to panic.
I watched the desert floor becoming closer, and objects becoming more distinct. My descent was fast – far too fast.
I’d have to try and land it like this.
Before I knew it, I was too low to use my reserve chute. I was getting close to the ground now, and was coming in at speed. I flared the chute too high and too hard out of fear. This jerked my body up horizontally – then I dropped away and smashed into the desert floor.
My body bounced like a rag doll. I landed in a cloud of dust and dirt, and just lay there, groaning.
I had landed directly on my back, right on top of the tightly packed reserve chute that formed a rock-hard, square shape in the middle of the pack. The impact felt as if that rock-hard chute had been driven clean through the central part of my spine.
I couldn’t stand up; I could only roll over and moan in agony into the dusty ground.
I was crying as I lay there in the dust, waiting for my buddies to come and help – I just knew that I had blown it.
We get one shot at life, and in those agonizing moments I realized I had messed this up big time.
I had this pit of my stomach fear, that life would never be the same again.
CHAPTER 67
I lay there, delirious, drifting