BAY ADVENTURES: I plunged 8000ft from the blue sky

By Scott MacLeod
As I swing my feet out of a tiny aircraft over Mount Maunganui and prepare to leap head-first towards the little green paddocks some 2.5km below, my mind drifts back to an incident that severely dented my ego just a couple of months earlier.
I recall cowering in fear on a high-diving board at my daughter's school, recoiling in fright every time my little nine-year-old and her chums dashed past me and jumped out giggling into the hollow air. Eventually I was forced to back off in humiliation and gingerly ease myself back down the pool's ladder, red-faced at the kiddies' taunts.
So now, as the wind whips past my legs and I smile - try grimacing - into a camera bolted into the Cessna's wing, I ponder a question I should perhaps have asked myself a little earlier.
Do I have the courage to do this?
I quickly discover I have no courage at all.
Yyyyaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I bellow as I find myself plummetting face-first towards those tiny paddocks, the instructor on my back having taken care of the jumping bit.
Scary?
Hell yeah. But also bloody good fun.
My day starts when I rock up to the Tauranga Tandem Skydiving shed near Tauranga Airport on a very hot Sunday, not really knowing what to expect.
I'm greeted by a bloke called Tiger who, it turns out, is a back-up tandem instructor who shoots the optional videos that some people order with their jumps.
Lounging on a couch nearby is a young ginger-headed character called Pootag. This name can be traced back to a dark incident in his childhood involving a flying cowpat.
The only person who seems to have a real name is Vivienne Swney, who is busy rolling up a parachute.
Vivienne will be my instructor today. This means she will strap herself to me and try to control proceedings as I flail madly in terror.
They're a friendly bunch, and they're soon ribbing each other mercilessly about all sorts of things while Tiger kits me out and shows me the ropes.
First I dress up in a jumpsuit, which is basically a fancy set of overalls, and buckle on a tiny pouch which Tiger says is an inflatable lifejacket that could prove handy if we somehow end up in the drink. Tiger assures me that this is very unlikely.
Then Tiger asks me to step into a complex arrangement of straps and buckles and pads and things. It's called a harness. This I manage to do at the second attempt.
After we find a helmet and goggles big enough for my head, Vivienne gives me a 10-minute rundown on what's going to happen during the flight, jump and landing.
Now it's time to wander out to the single-engined plane, which is sitting outside.
Tiger says it's a Cessna 172, which has been re-powered with a 180hp engine. Apparently these puppies usually have a 150hp to 160hp engine.
It's only while wandering out to the plane that I realise Pootag is my pilot. The youngster says he's been flying for Tandem for five years despite being aged only 25.
Within a few minutes we're lifting off from Tauranga Airport, and the Cessna's big windows give us an awesome view of the Western Bay. It's much better than trying to peer through a tiny window on a commercial flight.
We cruise out over the harbour and circle the Mount. It's a beautiful day in the Bay and the snowy peak of Ruapehu can be seen in the distance.
I'm enjoying all this but starting to get a little nervous.
After 10 minutes or so Vivienne turns around and starts buckling the two of us together. All the straps and things are pretty tight but I feel a little helpless knowing that someone else is in total control and I have to trust her. Vivienne has very practised patter, however, having jumped 4500 times over a decade or so, and this does inspire some confidence.
She opens the door and places one of her feet outside. This is my cue to swing both legs out onto the step on the plane's starboard wheel.
And it's at about this point that I start thinking about the high-diving debacle.
"Smile!" Vivienne yells. She is pointing at the camera. "Thumbs up!"
I smile. I put my thumbs up. I keep looking at the camera. I do not want to look down.
Suddenly I feel myself pitching forward. We've gone past the point of no return. "Yyyyaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
The sensation is very hard to describe. It's certainly not what I expected because I thought I would be floating parallel with the ground. Instead, I am rocketing downwards head-first, and I am distinctly aware that nothing except Vivienne can stop me from meeting a grisly end.
I feel like I've somersaulted completely but Vivienne later tells me this is not true.
This is all a pretty good buzz, I've got to say.
The wind whistles past, and is certainly loud, but it's not cold like I had expected.
And I am very pleased with myself for having survived up to this point. After five seconds Vivienne slaps me on the shoulders because I'm meant to be arching my back.
It's very hard to judge time, but I'm later told that we fall like this for about 20 seconds before Vivienne deploys the main chute.
This gives a jolt, but again it's not as severe as I am expecting.
After this there is the relaxed sensation of hanging over the Mount and city area, picking out familiar landmarks for five or so minutes as we drift down.
There is little wind, and we're easily able to speak. Suddenly the ground is very close and we seem to be coming in too fast.
Of course, everything is under control, and just when it seems too late Vivienne does her stuff with the chute so that we pull up and skid sideways onto the ground on our bums in a very relaxed fashion. "How was that?" Vivienne asks.
"Bloody awesome!" I say.
And it was.