Sky diving. You get in a little plane, ascend very quickly to 16,500 feet and then get out.

It was one of those things that we had agreed back in England would be one of the “specials” on our trip. We’re watching the budget on everything but had said if there were one or two once-in-a-lifetime opportunities that came along then we should feel able to take them. (I’ve got an “everything on red!” feeling coming on for when we get to Vegas……)

Sky diving above the Fox Glacier was on the short list. On Tuesday this week we found ourselves only a few hundred km away from Fox and woke up to the most glorious crystal clear, calm sunny winter morning so we thought, let’s go and see if there’s room for a small one. Ella figured that we needed a strong “ground support team” and so wisely opted for the “terra firma” option. I went for the terror affirmer choice.

I’ve bungy jumped before – from a tiny platform high up on a cliff face above a cave in the South of France. High on the list of the 5 coolest things I’ve done was catching my “Englishman abroad” straw hat in one hand as it flew off my head mid-jump and holding on to it so at I could then replace it while being lowered to the ground at the end of the jump – but there was not to be another hat incident at the sky diving. Sadly, you had to wear a fairly unfetching swimming cap affair.

I had no idea how I would feel in the plane. As it was I felt entirely emotionless. Not only no nerves at all, just nothing at all, really. I was interested, but not what I’d call excited. I think my body just couldn’t figure what it should do or how it should feel and so flicked onto a Trade Test Transmission mode, a bit of holding music until something happened that it could link to a known, appropriate response.

I was nervous when I bungy jumped, which was about ten years ago. I went with my two sons and as they were both due to jump ahead of me I was secretly hoping one of them would wimp out so I could escort them back down the mountain without losing face – but they both executed ridiculously cool swallow dives and muggins was left with no choice but to go through with it. And then, I was nervous. I remember standing on this tiny platform with two French guys shouting French stuff and thinking: “Why would I want to do this? I’ve got a rubber band round my ankles and the floor is a heck of a long way down and at some point I need to turn upside down. How does that happen? How do I turn upside down?” Then some more rabid French insults from behind (I was the last to go and they wanted to pack up and go for their garlic croissants or something).

So, with my main reason for going through with it being not wanting to offend, I stepped off. My hat, which they had gesticulated I should take off and I had made clear was staying with me, flew off – caught it – was so pleased I then didn’t really think anything else apart from wishing I’d stop bouncing. But climbing the mountain, watching the boys, standing on the ledge – really nervous. Sky diving – nothing.

Older? Closer to death anyway? Fully confident in Nico, my jump partner who did have very cool sunglasses and looked the sort who’d own a cool flying jacket too? He’d be doing all the work, after all – I’d merely be his parasite for the duration. Or was it just my body saying “Didn’t we agree no more jumping off high things? You’re on your own pal, I’m off to my happy place.”

Probably a combination of all the above. But no nerves on the way up. There were two others jumping and when we got to altitude they both sodded off, leaving me and Nico. I had been sitting in his lap for the past fifteen minutes which was odd, and he shuffled us along towards the door – shouted “remember the banana” (stick your legs back, head back, and make like a banana) and slipped out of the plane.

That first two seconds is indescribable. So, to pick up from there…… Initially you’re facing the sky, which is absolutely fine because there was nothing to see really, – just sky, and a perfectly good plane disappearing which brought a pang of separation anxiety. Then you flip over and there’s a really big planet rushing at you full force. It was at that precise moment my feelings decided to rejoin the party. If they’d been off in a strop in the plane they had come back with a vengeance. The free fall was 70 seconds and you could see both West and East coast at once, and straight below you, Fox Glacier, Mount Cook, beach and rainforest, all in one vista.
To be honest, the most awkward bit of the descent was neither battling the pain of the goggles digging into my face, nor my eyes watering, nor my ears popping, nor my feet being freezing. No, it was Nico trying to get me to give a thumbs up so he could capture it on film. I’m not a thumbs up sort of guy though. I’m more a casual nod of acknowledgement sort of chap. He took about 70 photos on the way down and seemed to want a thumbs up in over half of them.

“Wahay! Give me a thumbs up, Jonathan!”

“No, you’re alright, Nico.”

“Thumbs! We need thumbs up in photos.”

“Honest, we’re good thanks.”

“Give me five then!” And holds out his hand.

“You’ve got entirely the wrong continent, mate. I’m English.”

“Righto, just one last photo before we open the chute. At least give me one thumb!”

There were replies to that.

Is he paid according to the number of digits he manages to capture in his photos? He had said in the plane that even if he had a heart attack on the way down the parachute would open automatically. I wondered if I could punch him unconscious. In the end I gave him a solitary thumb up along with what I hoped was a suitably ironic facial expression and he seemed happy enough and opened the parachute and we continued our fall at a more leisurely pace.

With the chute open we could take the goggles off and that gave an even better view of the ground. Parachuting is definitely the way to go. Free fall – too fast. Floating down – absolutely perfect. Nico gave a running commentary of all the sites to see and tried to get some variety in the photos he was taking by throwing in a “what about a salute then?” to try and get through the plucky Brit’s defences.

We landed, not entirely in the Bond-like pose of my imaginings, skidding in on our backsides. Then it was a quick unclip and one last “Thumbs up? No? OK” and a hand shake sealed the deal.

I couldn’t find a box of Milk Tray to present to Ella so she had to make do with a bar (slightly broken after the landing) of Cadbury’s.

Can’t help it – now feel invincible. It’ll probably wear off soon enough but I’m on the lookout for kittens in trees and falling things I can catch and forest fires to extinguish.

For, now and forevermore – I am a skydiver – (or, as spellcheck just suggested…… a screwdriver.)