text: So I was walking down memory lane today and recalled a certain "ordeal" that my friend Josh and I managed to come out unscathed from. I wanted to memorialize it in case I croak tomorrow. This is a true story. Every detail was recalled with as much accuracy as possible, but there may be a few that we’re altered for writing effect. ***DISCLAIMER*** I have nothing but the utmost respect for the folks that allowed us to do this. None of the events were their fault. It was just nature's course. They taught us well. ***DISCLAIMER*** Read below for one of most harrowingly exhilarating stories that will likely rank top ten for Josh and I when it's all said and done. So my friend Josh convinces me to go skydiving. He had done it once before. I had yet to break the shell. I didn't want to go unless I could do it alone. Solo. It may seem a little counter-intuitive, but I didn't want to put my life into someone else's hands. Little did I know that notion was about to be put to the test... We decided to go to a certain outfit just outside of Carcross, Yukon. The outfit let you do your first dive by yourself. Technically they throw your chute for you and all you have to do is jump. You're still jumping out of the plane, for your first time, without someone strapped to you. I allowed it. We drive to the air strip and immediately we're greeted by this seasoned veteran. He says he's had “over 10 000 dives”. A real ‘seen it all’ type. Grey hair and grizzled appearance. It was intimidating. He had set up what can only be described as a classic Yukon base camp. Tents, tarps and campers. Equipment here and there. The odd ATV. If I hadn't already grown up in such environments, I might have been put off. Josh and I were still wary. We were jumping out of an airplane today, not camping, May long weekend style. There was a veneer of sketchiness we just couldn't shake. Perhaps this was all part of the show and added to the suspense. However, we had just drove hours to do this thing and we weren't turning back. So we get on with some "training". Basic stuff like practicing releasing the main chute. Cutting the main and releasing the reserve. Practicing maneuvers. Going over some theory. All the while we were waiting for the weather to clear. Eventually we just ran out of things to practice and we end up watching a really old, road trip, feel good movie. Things take a turn for the characters in the movie and there's a scene that plays out almost like what was going on that very day. The group drive up to an airstrip. There's a sign that says "FREE SKYDIVES". An old crusty pilot comes walking out of the hanger and asks the group who's daring enough to brave the sky. Well the main character is a bit of an egotistical jerk and says he'll do it. The grey haired pilot walks over to something covered in a large canvas. The canvas falls to the hanger floor revealing a dilapidated airplane. The main character starts to look a little timid at this point, but he doesn't want his friends calling him out. So he begrudgingly gets in. They take off and after much trepidation, he ends up jumping out of the plane. His main doesn't open however, and he freaks out. He remembers his training though and cuts the main and releases the reserve. Josh and I are glued to the screen, thinking 'what the hell are we watching'? This is way too intense! I start to get knots in my stomach. This must be part of the gig. To get us rattled before the jump. I needed air. I decided a walk along the air strip would do me good. Right around this time we had already been waiting for hours for the weather to clear. There's nothing like waiting for half a day in order to jump out of an airplane for the first time, SOLO, to get the ‘heeby jeebies rustling your jimmies’. Finally, the winds die down and there’s a small break in the clouds. They scramble the plane. It's just a little baby Cessna, barely enough room for the lot of us. We hunched into the sardine can and took off! But as we left the ground, we realized we had done it WITHOUT THE DOOR! It's loud. Wind is flying through the cabin. The pilot looks back and says, "The winds are actually much worse up here!" He says he has to slow the plane down enough so when we jump we don't get a face full of propeller wash. The cross winds are so extreme, the plane is almost flying sideways. I lean over to the pilot and I ask him, "Hey, wanna know what Zuneza means in my native language?" "Uh, yeah sure" he says. "It means bird!" "... and today I earn my wings!" I step out of the door first. The wind is blowing in my face and I'm regretting the events of the day. I hadn't drank that day (YET), but I wouldn't consider myself sober. I step out onto the landing wheel of this small plane. The same wheel that the 10000 jumps guy had bragged about earlier, saying that he lets go of the breaks on the plane and lets you fall if you don't jump soon enough. I grab onto the strut of the wing. I begin inching myself closer to the inevitable. I take one step off the wheel. Then the next. Now i'm literally hanging on this wing strut, legs pointing to the earth, thousands of feet below. I look at the pilot and he gives me a hasty thumbs up. I say some last prayers, make peace with whatever I could think of and let go. Apparently most first jumpers do what's called the "funky chicken" on their first dive. Basically, the body goes into an involuntarily dance. Legs and arms flailing around in a futile attempt to grab onto something. Anything. What you're actually supposed to do is spread out like a pancake. Better stability that way, apparently. Well somehow I'm clearheaded enough to do just that and it's in that moment when the rush kicks in. This is it? This is all there is to it? This isn't so bad! This is actually kind of fun! A few seconds later and my main had deployed. 'Thank goodness' I ponder, thinking back to that stupid movie. The jumpmaster (10000 jumps guy) starts squawking on the one way radio strapped to my chest and says: "We've got a problem" "You're not gunna make it" These are not the words I wanted to hear. My heart sinks... "The winds were too strong" "And blew the plane off course" "Do your best to make it to the drop zone" "I’ll try to guide you in if I see you" See, the area in which we were doing the dive is called the Carcross Desert. It's apparently the world's smallest desert. Its basically just a big patch of sand surrounded by the Canadian Rockies. We were supposed to land in the middle of that patch of sand, but as I looked below me, all I saw were the tops of forty-foot conifer trees. Not exactly landing strip material. But not all is lost, because I also see the desert ahead of me as well. The wind is behind me and its strong! I think to myself, "I might make it to the outskirts of the desert if I really boogie!". The only issue is the outskirts of the desert have trees scattered throughout. I would have to find a landing path long enough, through all the trees. The jumpmaster gets on the horn again, "Okay Zuneza, I see you coming up to the desert, but there are too many trees for me to see your landing, so you're going to have to do the landing yourself". Normally he's supposed to guide you down and tell you precisely when to flare the chute in order to sufficiently slow before the final touchdown. However, in his eyes, since he couldn't see me, he would only be further complicating the situation by trying to help. My heart is about to burst out of my chest like an alien creature. I see my approach. There is a long stretch of sand in between two patches of trees. I focus and line up my trajectory. I think it's just wide enough for one and a half parachute lengths. If I aim true, I should fit... I think. However, there are three more problems. The wind is behind me and it's STRONG, so I estimate I'm probably going over thirty miles per hour per hour. Also, my landing "strip" isn't exactly flat. There and dips and bumps and everything slopes off to the North. Never mind the conifer trees on either side. The last problem was something that was entirely my fault. I had twisted my ankle a few weeks prior and it hadn't fully healed. I had been walking throughout the day with a slight limp. I had concealed it from the jump master in case he grounded me. Beggars can't be choosers. Especially now, as I beg for the sweet embrace of the earth... well... without smacking into it of course. At that point the reptilian brain had kicked in. I had lost all sense of emotion, focused on saving my own life. These were the last moments before I either walked away from this or not. As my landing strip came into view, I had a fleeting thought, "I wonder how Josh made out?" I come screaming past the trees on either side. I had done well to remember my training and pulled HARD on my chute just at the right moment. SPLAT! My ass hits the earth instead of my twisted ankle. I was dizzy and the wind was trying to find its way back into my lungs... but I had made it. I was back on solid ground. Josh and I ended up driving back home and believe it or not, it was probably the drive that was the most harrowing experience of that day. The events that had just played out had sent us into a frenzy of adrenaline and I had to constantly remind myself to stay under the speed limit or else tempt fate once more by careening off the road. Him and I proceeded to prove to our local watering hole how amped up on adrenaline we really were by demolishing flight after flight of beers.