Most interesting out landing?

where I decided I would land once realizing that I wasn't getting any penetration), where I landed.

Speaking about penetration, a few years back my buddy was in the plane with this girl and followed her out when she jumped (this was in the years of round parachutes)... They landed way way out... My buddy walks over to the girl and she's sitting on the ground bawling her eyes, so he sits down beside her and starts comforting her... Tit leads to tat and buddy comes down with the worst case of poison ivy you ever seen - his member was the size of a salami... The girl was a little itchy too.

Quote

his member was the size of a salami...

TMI

Jumping a demo into my buddy's buddy's back yard, never been there before but looked it over from the air... Back yard a bit tight but doable, county forest across the road with 80' high pine trees, houses all around... Made the mistake of letting a kid pack my 145 elliptical parachute before this jump while I relaxed and told war stories (the kid told me he knew how to do it)... Open up over the county forest to a spinning canopy - look up and notice the left steering line comes down from the tail AROUND THE LINE GROUPS and then to the riser... Not a situation that made me happy. I'm fairly low now and I really don't want to chop and ride my SAC into those trees... Managed to hold the canopy straight using opposite toggle, but to turn right I had to let UP on the toggle and turn 270 left, instead of 90 right...

Looked around - buddy's back yard is out of the question, 5 or 6 houses down are two homes which seem to have adjoining back yards - set up and she;s down out of the way... One of the owner's comes to his back patio door in his bathrobe - I guess I interrupted a little afternoon delight... Asks "are you ok?" I nod a skip out fast down to buddy's for a beer... Everyone was wondering where I landed and why I didn't put it to the back yard like Frog who landed 1/2 way up a 20' spruce tree - 'Well, I just like to be safe' I said.

Between the lanes of the freeway on my reserve in 25+ knot winds....see incident forum....

Holy crap! That sounds sketchy!

Yep, f*cked up and was left with no outs...
Figured getting skewered on a tree would hurt a lot less than getting hit by a semi....

Quote

Landed in tall corn in Dallas

Ok, no short jokes.

Once at Q., you guys came back by cattle truck.
For landing off stories, the CRW folks always have buckets of them.

Not me but..........

Cross country and one guy is not going to make it back. He decided early to look for his alternate
and sees this "pic-nic" going on in what looks like a park with the big green shelter set up. Now he thinks, " let's be cool and swoop the pic-nic!" As he comes out of his turn it hits him, no pic-nic...... funeral! Ever try to sneak out of a funeral service with a canopy over your head????

Blues,

J.E.

Night jump.
Full moon.
Head down.
Long spot.
Oh, shit.
Look there.
Corn field.
Tall corn.
Face plant.
Didn't hurt.
Dumb ass.
Big grin.

THE FAKAWEE TRIBE

Thursday… The Arrival
Excitement was building as jumpers from around the state of New Mexico and West Texas began to trickle in one by one to a small windblown metal building just a stone’s throw from the Texas border. With each arrival, the excitement and anticipation grew like a wildfire. The diversity within this rag-tag group is what made the weekend’s events memorable yet at the same time, we had no idea of all the fun that was about to befall us.

Friday… Getting It Together
Not everyone could come down to the little rinky-dink burg known as Clovis, New Mexico as early as some of the others. The 5 idiots who were to comprise the base or center of the formation record were however, able to break away from the 9-to-5 and start early. Without a good base, this New Mexico State record formation attempt would fail and everybody knew it.

The 5 base “idiots” were: Steve Astuto, a lumbering 6 foot plus man and a dentist from Amarillo; Steve “Cookie” Kokura, a foul mouthed, cocky F-111 Air Force jet jockey; Gary Gross, an Air Force Captain that the women absolutely drooled over; Dale “Sledge” Hanner, Cannon AFB’s Colonel in charge of safety and a decorated F-111 pilot in the Gulf War; and Adam Buckner, a lobbying assistant from Santa Fe with goofy knack of making people laugh for no apparent reason, set out early Friday morning to build the base that was to be the new state record. Imagine 5 large men, stuffed into a little Cessna airplane, much better entertainment than watching circus clowns pack into a VW! Feeling the pressure to make a good base, the “idiots”, determined to make a suitable target for the other 8 divers, gathered their gear and headed for the airport with a quiet tension in the air that you could cut with a knife.

Armed with nothing but our skills, our experience and a rainbow of different colored jumpsuits with patches covering holes from sketchy landing attempts, the “idiots” boarded the Cessna 210 in a blur of scalding jokes and cracks about each other’s mothers. We were attempting to mask the anxiety we all felt but were too macho to show. The 35-minute ride to altitude on the first base practice jump was almost like any other load of jumpers. Gary decided that a song was in order to relax the group. “Friends In Low Places” by Garth Brooks and “Time For Me to Fly” by REO Speedwagon was belted out with nervous zest followed by the theme from Gilligan’s Island and the Brady Bunch Theme. These masterpieces of song were completely butchered, yet sung with the drone of the airplane engine, we might as well have been at Rockefeller Center as the opening act… in our own minds.

Nearly to jump altitude at 10,500 feet above the ground, and the “idiots” voices raspy from the singing, it was time to get serious about what we were up there to do. Truly, we did not know how everything was going to go until we actually exited the plane but now was the time to “Shut Up and Jump.” Gary directed us over the airport and then motioned to the pilot that it was time to cut the engine speed back a little and open the door. When the door actually opened it was like putting lotion on a rash. All the tension seemed to be soothed away with the rush of the cold air now spilling into the cabin. Focused and ready we all began the climb out onto the wheel of the airplane. To the untrained or inexperienced eye, it looks like a herd of baboons hanging from the wing strut of an airplane in some high-flying circus but we knew what we were doing… or so we thought.

Everybody was in place and the count to jump was given… Ready! Set! Go! What happened next wasn’t a huge surprise, we may as well have been 5 frogs in a blender, all mixed up and falling all over each other, this exit was blown and we all knew it. Scrambling to make this thing work the way it was intended, we all decided that it was best to zero in on the lowest man and try to rebuild the formation on him. In theory, this is a good thing but the drawback is those 4 people deciding to zoom in on the low man and the low man thinking he needed to slow his fall rate down isn’t a good combination. Steve Astuto, Cookie, Gary and myself simultaneously zoomed toward Sledge who was furiously trying to slow his fall rate down to float back up to us. Needless to say, we went too fast and he went too slow, so we passed each other with stupid looks on all of our faces. Getting close to 3000 feet and our deployment altitude, 4 of us got together linking our hands in a circle and Sledge never got into the formation to complete it. We all sped or tracked away from each other and deployed safely. Landing in the same general area, we all debriefed what had happened and decided that we needed to try it again, and again, and again, until we got it right. We made 4 jumps that day, and each one was better than the next.

As the morning turned into afternoon, clouds, winds and bad weather slowly started creeping our direction. In desperation, we decided to make one more jump to “get it right” and that jump should have never been made as it almost doused our chances of having 13 viable skydivers to complete the record.

It was almost sunset and dark thunderstorms were being pushed in by high winds. Flickers of lightning were shooting across the horizon in the distance and as we climbed to altitude singing the Gilligan’s Island theme again… and our little ship was being tossed. On the ground most of the other jumpers had already arrived and were watching the base idiots climb to altitude in the storm. The winds on the ground were now running about 20-30 mph and gusting. Drops of rain began to pock the dry dirt and the smell of lightning was in the air. Worried that the conditions in the air and on the ground were not acceptable, the ground crew radioed up to the jump plane to tell us that we shouldn’t jump. Just as the crackle of the message was received, we were already out the door.

Despite the bad weather, the formation went completely as planned and was rock solid. The only obstacle now would be landing in the now full-on storm and not getting hurt. Most of the jumpers had fairly high performance canopies that would slice through the bad weather, save one. I was not that lucky. Even though the canopy I was using was “blessed” by none other that Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves because it was used in the movie Point Break, it was huge, docile didn’t want to cut through the full on rain and wind. The other jumpers made it down wet and frazzled but safe. I, on the other hand, was doing everything I could to bring this canopy down to the ground and it wasn’t cooperating with me. Steadily, I was being blown backwards toward the hard asphalt taxi way and runway desperately trying to get this canopy down in what had now turned into a full force gale. As the runway got closer and closer I knew that I was going to get hurt. How bad I did not know, at the same time I HAD to get this damned thing on the ground. As bad luck would have it, I slammed down hard on the tarmac with a gaggle of people running towards me attempting to grab my parachute and keep it from dragging me across the field. The impact force crumpled my body like an accordion and I felt the pain shoot through my right leg. “Oh boy,” I said to myself in the split second after impact, sure that I had broken something. As luck would have it, the now drenched landing committee helped me to my feet where I discovered that due to the force of the landing, I had only slammed my elbow into the top of my right thigh severely bruising it. The impact was not enough to break it, but hard enough that movement and walking was next to impossible. This motley crew hauled me into the hangar and the question whether or not I would be able to continue with the actual record attempt the following day was shooting through everyone’s minds. The standing record was 12 and we had 13 people for the jump. Losing one to injury meant that the whole event was for not. We all went to bed that night wondering if I was going to make it including myself. None of us would know until the next morning.

Saturday… How the Fakawee Tribe Got Its Name
Getting up early on Saturday, I knew my leg was going to hurt like hell but I wasn’t going to be the cause of our record attempt not happening. Limping out to the car and driving out to the dropzone, I felt a sense of relief from the other skydivers that we were going to make the record happen. Everyone was primed and ready to go, the airplanes were prepped, and the sky was showing signs of clearing enough to make the dives without a repeat of the evening before. We all debriefed how the dive was supposed to go and the jobs of each individual including the pilots. What a group we had. Here are the players: Jane Ann Bode and her husband Mike from Albuquerque both worked for Sandia National Laboratories; Marcus Thornton, a construction worker from Amarillo; Jeff “Deuce” Gearhart a flight attendant for Southwest Airlines; Holt Durham, who at the time was a cashier at an Indian Gaming palace in Albuquerque; Pierce Smith, a industrial Tech from Levelland, Texas; Jaret Eccleston, a flamboyant and promiscuous private in the Air Force; Jarred Little who was a student at Texas Tech and an aspiring pilot; and flying a camera on his head to capture the dive on video was Bill Pearson, a major circuit tech for the phone company. Flying the 3 aircraft we would be using were: John Carlson, a retired Air Force Colonel who had test flew nearly every jet aircraft in the American Armed Forces; Tony Castinelli, another F-111 jet jock in the Air Force; and Mike “Vinny” Eovine, a Boston Italian right seater in F-111s in the Air Force. Our entourage was also joined by various girlfriends, wives and other friends who wanted to see us make the record and support out efforts.

The 3 aircraft we would be flying for the record attempts were a Cessna 210 that would hold 5 jumpers, a Cessna 206 that would hold 5 jumpers and a twin Piper Bonanza that would hold the remaining 3 and the video guy. The Bonanza was not really suited for dropping jumpers because it had a really small door that had to be completely removed in order not to risk tearing it off in flight making for an extremely cold and noisy flight to altitude. Even though the pilots, all experts and well seasoned, assured us that we could make the dives without a weather problem, some of us were still unsure… and that in itself was the beginning of the Fakawee Tribe… read on…

Weather wise, it was pleasant. Small portals of blue sky were showing through the clouds and the wind had died down to a slight breeze. We debriefed the first dive and went over the plane formation so that the 13 of us could get together without having to spend precious time tracking across the sky to build the formation. We intended to make at least 4 attempts that day and if they were unsuccessful, we would have Sunday for additional attempts. Boarding all the airplanes we were all focused on making the record on that dive. During the climb to altitude every group in each airplane was singing some song, but the base airplane was far superior in sound quality because we had rehearsed the day before. As the mini-flock of tiny airplanes filled with jumpers climbed and got closer to the clouds, we all began to wonder if we would be able to spot the airport from above. The cloud cover was pretty heavy but Tony assured us that he knew where to let us out so we could land on the airport grounds. This was a lie we all believed in, at least, at first.

At approximately 11,000 feet above the ground, we caught a glimpse of the airport through a sucker hole in the clouds. The lead plane called for jump run and the airplanes slowed to open the doors. We all began to climb out onto the wheel struts of the Cessnas and the jumpers in the Bonanza began to climb all over the outside of the plane. Since we were the “idiots” in the base and in the lead airplane, we would be giving the count and starting the dive. As soon as the other jumpers in the other airplanes saw us exit, they were to leave and fly to join us to make a snowflake formation.

Most record attempts in skydiving are made from one or two large aircraft and flying that many bodies in 3 aircraft was a trick itself. With people hanging on the outside of the planes they tend to fly crooked therefore making it hard to keep the airplanes in a relative formation to each other. This formation went to hell in a hand basket very quickly. One plane went too low, another veered off to the right so when we exited the aircraft, we were way too far away from each other to even build anything close to a state record. To make a long jump short, a group of 5 people (the base “idiots”) were the only ones to get together and everyone else was way too far away from us to even get close enough to dock on us. We all deployed safely and were in fact over the dropzone. After landing, we all gathered and repacked our gear for the next attempt and had a little meeting to debrief the events of the last jump and how to solve the problems we had encountered that made the dive fail. While we were inside packing and debriefing the weather and the cloud cover began to close in. Having faith that the pilots knew what they were doing, we all trusted their judgement in being able to spot the load above the airport again even through thick clouds. Our faith was quickly dusted on the very next attempt… can you say Fakawee?

The Clovis airport was about 10 miles from the West Texas border. We all climbed aboard our designated planes and set up for take off. Because of the formation flying problems of the previous attempt the pilots decided to showboat a bit and take off in formation to prove to us jumpers that they knew what they were doing. This was a bad move. As we began to speed down the runway and then only 75 feet above the ground, the twin Bonanza got caught in the prop wash behind the 206 and the 210 sending the plane into a perpendicular flight straight towards the ground. Lucky for the guys in that plane, the pilot was John Carlson, and his expert handling of the aircraft was the only thing that saved them from smashing down on the ground in a fiery ball of flames. This must have been quite a sight from the ground. I am sure that anyone on the ground who would have seen the plane flying on its side and nothing but wide eyeballs glued to every window of all of the planes because of the shock, the surprise and the sheer terror of the situation. As we continued to altitude there was no singing because we were all trying to catch our breath and calm down from the near catastrophe only minutes prior.

We neared 11,000 feet and Tony assured us that he knew where we were and that it was time to start the climb out. The engines slowed at bit and the airplane formation was much tighter than it had been before and this time the cloud cover had no sucker holes. Having faith in our pilots we climbed out on the wheel struts again and launched our bodies into the air. The base flew perfectly and steadily members from the other planes began to dock on our formation base. One came in, then another and then a couple more docked. Time was running out and the ground was quickly rushing up to greet us. At 4000 feet, the preplanned break-off altitude we still had 3 people out of the formation. We all spread out to clear ourselves from one another for deployment and everyone’s parachute opened cleanly. As we flew through the clouds and then into open air we all began to look for the airport so we could land. Nothing looked familiar to any of us. Shocked and dismayed by not knowing where we were we all began to converge on a small farmhouse in the middle of nowhere in hopes that the owners would be gracious enough to allow us the use of their phone. On the decent to the farm house, Deuce, who had the smallest, most high performance canopy of the lot started flying up to various members of the lost group saying, “Where the fuck are we? Where the fuck are we?” He said it so fast that the question sounded more like “We are the Fakawee! We are the Fakawee!” and so the name of our little rag-tag group was born… but our troubles weren’t over yet. We still didn’t know where we were and as we approached the house, things looked even grimmer.

Landing again was uneventful, but the farmhouse that we had hoped would have a phone was deserted and was only inhabited by a family of owls. Lost, confused and out of options in the middle of who-knows-where we all began to find a clear spot to repack our parachutes. Amidst the owl droppings and old broken furniture we all packed up our gear trying to figure out what to do next as none of us had any cell phones or any other communications devices. After we were all done, we decide that the most effective way to get back home was to break into three groups. One group would stay at the farm house and wait and the other 2 groups wold run in opposite directions until they came to a inhabited farm house and call the dropzone with direction to come pick us all up. 45 minutes later the group who went east came back empty handed and 15 minutes after that the west group came back and said that they got a hold of the dropzone from a phone about 2 miles away and they were coming to get us. Our next question was, “Where the fuck are we?” and soon learned that we were 20 miles into Texas near a town called Bovina which was a total of 30 miles away from the dropzone. Relieved that we were going to get home before the storm picked up again, it was a breath of fresh air to us all. Our pilot Tony, who had assured us that we were right over the airport, was going to get the shit kicked out of him for wasting our afternoon in Fakawee land. All of us on the drive back to the airport began to map out plans to make Tony pay for his mistake… lucky for him he was gone when we got back or he probably would have been met by an angry torch carrying mob of pissed off skydivers. That was ok… we knew he’d be back the next day and we would get him then…. Or maybe not.

Sunday… Success!
Getting up after a hard night of partying at Gary’s house turned out to be just what the group needed to get the record together on Sunday. Tony, despite being held down and ”pink-bellied” for a good 10 minutes was in good spirits and ready to fly again especially since today there wasn’t a cloud to be seen in the sky (lucky for him). We put up 3 loads that day. The first two we only had one or two people not get into the formation and dock, but on the last attempt of the day things changed.

We couldn’t have put together a better skydive. The planes flew in perfect formation, the base came out of the plane rock solid and everyone docked onto the formation quickly and we ended up holding it for about 20 seconds before we broke off and deployed our parachutes. This was a great day for the Fakawee Tribe and was a new New Mexico State Formation Skydiving record. There are many more stories to be told surrounding the record attempts but none, even the record making jump itself, surpasses the rag-tag group of skydivers called the Fakawee Tribe. In retrospect, I enjoyed landing in the middle of nowhere so 20 miles over the Texas border more than breaking the record and secretly, I think everyone involved in the Fakawee tribe does too.

Grafico

Who are the Lawndarts? hehehe.... Where are the Lawndarts?? Seven miles out!!
Ask a lawn dart they will tell you the rest of the story.

I was just informed that I miss quoted the name of the twin... twasn't a Bonanza... it was a Twin Senneca.

I couldn't edit the post from before... so this will have to do.

GraficO

My most interesting was the only one so far. Cross Keys Jersey 2 days ago. Some serious uppers, full into the wind, getting blown back to the other end of the airport. Turned downwind and did probably 50-60 over to a field next to home depot. Got a ride back from a cool local with a pickup, along with another jumper.

My most interesting out landing i had was when i was jumping out of Pepperel MA on a x-country, and landed in NH

On the first load of the day--AFF 4--I deployed and looked around: "Where the hell is the airport?" I saw a runway way off to the horizon. "That can't be it!" After a moment I realize--damn! That IS the airport!

I see canopies below me landing in Farmer John's soybean fields and figure--that's where I'm going to land, too. The winds were so high that with only 1/4 brakes I landed like a snowflake.

It was weird to stand there by the country road, with my balled-up chute in my arms, watching car after car pass me like I was some axe-murderer. Finally, a pickup truck from the DZ spotted me and gave me--and some other jumpers--a lift some 3 miles back to the DZ. WILD!!!!

When I jumped at the Sky Knights in East Troy, WI, a few years ago, I took a girl on a tandem and had to chop a line over malfunction. The landing was uneventful in a small cemetary maybe a mile from the airport. While I was gathering up the gear, a guy who was there flying a small helicopter landed in the cemetary and flew us back to the airport.

Quote

immediatly I could see the headlines in The Sun : 'South African eaten by Lion in England after bizarre parachute incident'

ROTFLLAMF!!!!!!!!

Landing on the wrong side of the entire town in Empuriabrava. Don't trust the Yellow Otter pilot during boogies.

Quote

Yeah, if we land a few miles East of the student LZ, there's a hill of state land with 12 feet tall evil fencing, too. It's a prison. And one of the student jumpsuits is solid bright orange - try getting a ride back to the DZ wearing that!

We have a host of prisons ranging from an honor farm for income tax evaders and supporters of white collar crime to the maximum security Rock with the likes of World Trade Center bomber Ramzi Yousef (the '93 bomb, not the jetliner attacks) close to our DZ. On occasion folks have dropped into the farm on their way back to the DZ. The last time it happened, the lady who landed out didn't realize where she was until the lieutenant who gave her a ride back to the DZ mentioned it.

She reported that the inmates were all quite friendly...

Quote

I have learned four things from this:
~Navigation & flight paths need to be at the top of my list of Things I Need to Figure Out Quickly
~I now know how to get my gear over a barbed wire fence
~Cow #95 is very friendly and likes it when skydivers give her a diversion from the endless monotony of her day
~I can do a stand up landing in a crosswind

Blue ones, but hold the cattle, please......

Shinda

Classic!

Y2K jumps--December 31, 1999. We did a practice jump at about 9:30pm, in order to let the first-time night jumpers get their required solo out of the way. The practice jump went well. We noticed a slight headwind under canopy, but everyone landed near the peas, so we weren't concerned. When the time came for the actual "Y2K" jump, we launched an 8-way, fifteen seconds before midnight. The jump was a blast. There was no moon. The only way to spot the other jumpers in free fall was the glow sticks on their helmets and altimeters. The lights of Dallas and Fort Worth were clearly visible to the south/southeast. It was beautiful. Break-off and deployment were uneventful. It was only when we had confirmed we were under good canopies and begin looking for the lights of the drop zone that we realized we were in trouble. The drop zone, identifiable by the light peaking through the hangar skylights like the eyes of a giant insect, was a speck in the distance. A cold front was moving in. The upper winds were blowing 180 degrees opposite of the ground winds. We all turned toward the bug-eyed hangar, fighting for whatever penetration we could get, sinking into the featureless black abyss, over what, to me, was a relatively unfamiliar drop zone. I knew there was a pond in the general vicinity of where I coming down, so I crabbed sideways toward hopefully safer ground. I ended up having one of the best landings in the group. I wore a very bright video light mounted to the front of my helmet, which I turned on under canopy, and a small light attached to my right foot, pointed toward the ground. At about fifteen feet, the black abyss was suddenly replaced by the quickly approaching ground, and I stabbed out and did a quick, crosswind butt slide down a small hill. Not everyone landed as easily as I. One jumper landed on a road, inside a "U" formed by three sets of power lines, one jumper flared as his feet hit the tops of the trees in the nearby woods, one jumper never flared and did a face plant that shattered his camera helmet, and one jumper never flared and was knocked unconscious (it was the next day before she could remember the jump). After tracking us all down and loading us into the back of pickups, we were greeted back at the hangar with champagne and beer. We all quickly forgot our bad landings and enjoyed the experience. It's still one of my favorite jumps.

--Douva
D-22772

We were trying a cross country in high (upper) winds. After a lot of calculating for wind direction and speed, we head for our carefully chosen spot 13 miles from the airport. Got out at 10500, opened and immediately felt the wind in my face. The four of us flew back as far as we could, to within 5 miles of the airport and started looking for a place to land. Jason, with the highest wingloading landed first and spread his canopy on the ground where we could see it. We all three had the same thought at the same time, "Jason hasn't picked up is canopy yet, he must be hurt, I'm not landing over there. Found a nice cornfield to land in (corn doesn't look that high from 300 feet). A farmer on his tractor saw us and rode over to pick us up. His little girl started crying when she saw us land (maybe thought we were alien invaders.)

Second interesting off landing was a few weeks ago, with a tandem. The winds aloft were not what we thought and I landed in a field off the airport. We had a new pilot who was quite shaken by a very routine off landing. He kept saying "I will never let this happen again." I had to keep assuring him it was my decision to leave the plane, and if he kept flying jumpers, he would have some land off.

Quote

We were trying a cross country in high (upper) winds. After a lot of calculating for wind direction and speed, we head for our carefully chosen spot 13 miles from the airport.

Funny coincidence. On my last jump we landed 13 miles off of the airport on a reverse cross cross country. The uppers were cranking so we took the 182 up to 10,500, spotted ourselves directly over the DZ, did clear and pulls, then turned downwind and let 'em fly.

A few years ago we were doing 4-way training from an AN-2 in Hungary. In the evening a mild mannered balloon pilot offered us a balloon jump the next morning. 4000' to 5000' at about $20 per person if there were 4 of us. No problem ...

The next morning we all helped him kit up when I notice a few holes in the balloon, covered with advertising banners. Funny, they look like the have been burnt in. What the hell, I have a parachute, don't I ...

The balloon first gets filled with cold air and once it is partly inflated, the rest is done with the burners. So the pilot decides that there is enough air inside and it is time to burn, fires up the burner. The air streaming past pulls the sides of the balloon inwards and already we have the next hole burnt in the balloon. The pilot looks at it decides it is not too bad but decides to pump a bit more cold air in before continuing. Well if he's prepared to go up without a parachute, then what the hell, I have a ...

Finally without the addition of any more holes we are ready to start, everyone in and off we go. No wind on the ground, and I am thinking that it will be rather boring landing back on the air field, but then come the uppers and I am thinking it will be quite interesting to land off-field in a country where I don't speak the language ...

3000' and we start getting ready. We speak no Hungarian, the pilot speaks no German and about 4 words of English. How would you like us to go? Single exits, or 2 -2; what do you mean all four at once!!, you have done this before, haven't you ...

Me being the most experienced (about 300 jumps at that time) told the others to not all jump at once, but to leave a bit of time between 'exits'. 4000' and we start going. I went number 3 and could already see the rate of climb on my altimeter. Have fun mister pilot ...

I found a nice field next to a corn-field to land in and am gathering my chute together when there is a god almighty crashing sound behind me. Sounds like a herd of cows going through the corn. Actually it was one of the less experienced jumpers :-) landing parallel to the field where I was but two meters into the corn-field. The stampede ended with a very wet squelch as her feet caught in the corn and she pancaked in. You alive in there ...

The pilot's 14 year-old son was driving the chase car (a 4-wd lada), and finally found us all and off we went in search of the balloon. About half an hour later we finally see the balloon still inflated standing in a field. We drive as far as the roads take us and there the son switches down into 4-wd and drives though planted fields the rest of the way. Sorry mister farmer ...

When we get to the balloon the pilot, white as a ghost, is sitting on the side of the basket chain smoking. We try to speak to him, and all he can do is light the next cigarette and point to his recording altimeter which shows his highest altitude to be around 14000'. Well you did want us to all go at once ...

We got a ride back to the airport, but no offer of another jump the next morning, funny that ...

charlie