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Thursday, August 24, 1972
University Dally Kansan
Reporter Packs Pen, 'Chute To Cover Skydiving Club
Editor's Note: Mary Lind, Kausan staff writer, agreed to do try a story of George Plimpton-style. Her assignment was skydiving. This is her report.
"Get your feet out," Dick Mauk, the jumpmaster for the Kaw Valley Parachute Club, yells, his words barely audible over the enine's roar.
Automatically, still not believing I'm doing this, I swive my boots out the door and plant them firmly on a sturpt step. The 9-mile-an-hour wind nearly pulls my body
The earth below fades into a checkerboard of green, yellow and brown fields as the single-engine plane climbs to 3,500 feet. The instructor rudges me and I watch his lips as he yells last minute instructions above the noise of the engine.
By MARY LIND Kansan Staff Writer
He leans over and throws a streamer through the open door of the plane to check the air currents. As the plane circles the airport he points out the drop zone, then smiles encouragingly and I know that it is time.
through, but I am weighted by 35 pounds of equipment.
"Get on the strut." he vells.
For a second I consider turning back, but the jumpmaster is gently pushing me toward the wing, so I grab for the wheel and drag it slowly around. I dangle my microfoot in the wind blast.
I don't hear him tell "Go," but I feel he slap my leg and for some insane reason my眉
My mind blanks and I remember only to arch my body. Five seconds later the plane jerks on my parachute and suddenly I am floating 3,500 feet above the earth.
Presence of mind returns and I look up to check the nyton carriage above me. It's all black, like a skull.
the nyon canopy above me. It's all right; I don't need my reserve chute. Between my dangling boots the world is stuttering, and I try to speak with the quiet. It seems as though time has stopped—and I have stopped—here in mid-air. It is beautiful and clean and orderly there, with straight roads and square plots there, and I am drifting very slowly over it all.
Off to my right I see Ootawa airport and the little circle of red flags with a wind sock in the center, I reach up to pull the staircase and drive myself as best I can in that direction
Too soon, approximately five minutes later, I am at tree-top level and I tuck my elbows in and flex my knees in preparation for the shock of landing. Suddenly the earth bounces up and hits me and I crumble shakily to the ground.
I'm down.
I lay in the soy bean field, not caring that I have missed the drop zone, and marvel at my accomplishment. Then I remember to take a picture before the wind catches it, and I forget.
I hear a "Congratulations, land," above me and make Mauk land, about 20 feet away. A VW bus comes around the corner and other members of the Kaw Valley Parachute Club help me wrap up the chute and take us back to the airport.
Organizing a 10-member sky-diving competition is one of the goals of the Kaw Valley Parachute club, founded by Dick Mauk and John Jaworski. The other goal is
to do the thing they like to do best—sky dive.
Membership now includes students from
The University of Ottawa,
Ottawa and the University.
Mauk, with 285 jumps, is a jumpmaster and a qualified instructor. The club provides six to eight hours of instruction, gear rental, plane ride and the first jump for the fee of $45. The cost of each following jump is $5.
The first jump, a static line jump, in which the clute is opened automatically by a line from the plane, is usually made straight and the static line jumps the jumper can try a five- to ten-second free fall from 3,500 feet in which he must pull the ripcord.
After the jumper has accomplished 20 five- .o ten-second free-falls he is eligible to jump. He does free fall from 7,500 feet. Once a jumper has done this, he loses the student rating.
Mauk is hopeful that in two years the club will have a sport parachute team good enough to compete in sky-diving tournaments for cash prizes.
In the meantime, the club will continue to jump for their own pleasure and teach them new skills.
"Every jump is great, but the day you jump for the first time is a day you remember the rest of your life," said Jaworski.
I haven't forgotten mine.
Mary Lind, left, and jumpmaster Dick Mauk, in an airplane above Ottawa airport, review parachuting checks before Lind's first jump.
Mary Lind, suited up for skydiving, waits for the "Go."
Dangling from her chute some 3,000 feet above the Kansas patchwork is Mary Lind, Kansan staff writer.
海峡闽