Trip to Moraira

Wed 16 May 2001

Leaving - Vannes deserted - Wind no jump - Electra 170 - First sight of a cutaway

Bit of a mad dash to get to the boat, I always seem to leave plenty to do on the morning I'm leaving. Cloudy with light splatters of rain, my dad hovering around the car keen that I didn't miss the ferry - keen to get rid of me, possibly. A fluke that everything fitted into the car nicely, and off to the harbour only a few minutes late.

Hardly any life down there, makes a nice change from the weekend scrums we're used to. Through the foot and moth defensive carpet and on to the ferry with about twenty other cars. Smooth crossing, a bit of a doze as I got to bed at 1.30 am and had to be up by 6.30 am to get ready, and we were there.

No passport check on the other side, but a serious moat of gunge to drive through, banked up inside rolls of fresh tarmac. They take foot and mouth very seriously over there. Hit the first petrol station out of St Malo to fill up and buy a map of France (could come in handy), bought a bottle of water and pointed the nose at Vannes. Took the usual one and a half hours to get down there, where it was lunchtime and therefore deserted. Nipped to the supermarket for supplies as I didn't fancy pizza for lunch.

Booked a room with Michelle, who didn't recognise me (so much for my fantasies about older women) [I'm not bloody surprised if you call them 'older women'! - Mike] and even asked me if I was there to do a tandem. Didn't choke at all, just smiled sweetly and said 'chute libre, s'il vous plait'. See if she likes the formal approach. Buggered if I'm calling her mademoiselle again.

Apart from her, Job and Mattieu, there was no-one else there. No Nicholas, no Herve (thank God), no Loic, no Laurent, no Fred. Too damn quiet. It was windy, around thirty knots as it turned out, 'Trente noeds a trois cent' was what the older pilot shouted at me as we went up that afternoon. On the minus side there wasn't a lot of activity. On the plus side, in that lift in the Porter there were only five people (Job with tandem, Mattieu to film it, me and one other solo jumper) and I was jumping a brand new Electra 170 in a Legend harness. The exact rig that I've ordered from Colpus, but which now won't be down until next month. Michelle tried to get me onto a Springo 160, I think she was worried that the wind might take the Merit 190s backwards, but I smiled and asked for the 170. She told me it had only been jumped twice, and the packing form was oddly blank.

No nerves in the plane, just a big grin on my face as I went out in a dive, pulled into a bad sit, track and dipped into a better one, couple of prps to be sure I remembered what I was doing, and pulled at 4K. Nice opening, much smoother than the Merit, tucked the slider away and caned the chute down to the DZ. I was more or less over the DZ, so pulled a few spirals and a couple of 90 left, 180 right turns. The chute has a tendency to swing the other way after a big turn, but a little pressure on the appropriate toggle keeps it on line.

Set up for the final approach, noticing how the flags were flapping like crazy, and sure enough at 50 foot hit a downdraft, which meant that the world suddenly started rushing up. Hauled the toggles at fifteen foot and she just came out of it beautifully. The canopy slid to the left, but just hauled the right toggle and she levelled out, and jogged the speed away. Even in 30 knots she's quick on the final glide. The other solo jumped was trying the Springo 160. 'Je me pose enculé' he said, ruefully, rubbing his arse. Har de har de har.

Now for the nasty bit. Packing a brand new Electra is hard, hybrid canopy or no hybrid canopy. Getting that fucker in the bag is almost as bad as doing the Sabres in Texel. But once that first loop is locked into the rubber band, your work is done. The Legend has a different closing system, with the loop on the top flap, rather than attached to the back of the container, which makes closing the thing much easier. For the first time I could pull the tape out without having to run it behind the pin. The closing sequence is the same, incidentally, thread the loop, through bottom flap, left flap, right flap, leaving the bridle running out from under the right flap. All in one piece, and signed up for another jump.

Only there wasn't one. No tandem to justify it, and it was getting late. That night was spent on my own in the Pirate restaurant, not finishing a huge pizza, and back to room three for some kip.

Next morning was gorgeous, no wind at all, so set off for a small run to the assault course and back. Had some leftover bread and cheese for breakfast, and was out in manifest with the group of army barmies who were doing a static course. Seemed friendly enough, but hardly spoke to them apart from hello and how are you doing, frog face?

They had first go in the morning plane, and then we hung around for a while waiting to see if there would be enough people for another jump. There were. This time I was to be the first out of the plane, and chatted to Job on the way up (he had another tandem), and he sorted out a riser cover that had popped out. They are tough to get right, but will probably get easier with age. Most things do.

A middle aged French woman was trying to spot for me, but in the end I just looked at Job who was sat behind me, and he waved a dismissive forearm my way, so I went. Out in a sit - of sorts, but couldn't quite get it right, so did some rolls and turns before trying to get into a stand. Held it for a few seconds, and you can really feel yourself accellerate, before I flipped out and got slapped around by the wind until I slowed down again. Held the belly position for a while and then deployed. You don't need to roll the nose more than once. That's all I'm saying. Another windy landing, but again the Electra cut straight through it. I was falling in love . . .

The wind and the cloud came up after that, and there were a couple of showers, but around five it cleared up magically, and Michelle asked me to check around the campsite to see if anyone else wanted to jump. No-one did, and they weren't sending the Porter up just for me. Bastards. I fancied spotting properly for myself.

Finished off my supplies for dinner, then went to the bar opposite the pirate place to chat to the barmaid and catch up with the gossip. 'Tu ne t'ennuies pas tout seul a l'aeroport?' she asked. Well, frankly, yes. Solo stuff is fine, but you really want to be doing something a bit more adventurous. The most fun was caning the Electra into the ground, rather than the freefall.

Next morning was damp but sunny. Run, as usual, lump of bread, coffee from the machine and went to watch the army barmies go through their stuff. This was where I saw my first cutaway, clear as day as they were only going out at 4K. A guy under a green chute seemed to have his bridle wrapped over the front of his canopy, splitting it in two. It looked landable, but the new chap on manifest, who was guiding them to their landings over the radio, was having none of it. 'Tire ton secours,' he said, quite calmly, as if he was telling the fucker to turn right. 'Allez, tire ton secours, maintenant.' The army boy obeyed orders, cut away and his reserve was open within 50 foot. Impressive. He landed well and seemed very chilled about the whole thing.

Time for one last jump, although when buying a few more I noticed that they had started charging for chute hire. Just a few quid, still way cheaper than anywhere else, but another good excuse to buy your own kit. I mean, inside 1000 jumps it will have paid for itself. Logical, really.

The most interesting thing about the last jump was that with not much wind, I landed about twenty foot from Kev's arse biting experience, but was just on the grass so I got away with it. My first brush with the beer line, and though the canopy was just about on the tarmac, I wasn't. But only because of a couple of low S turns.

Packed it, still tough, bid goodbye to Job and the new chap (Michelle wasn't there) and hit the road for Lapalisse.

The road to Lapalisse - Eight hours behind the wheel - New rooms and old faces - Silhouette 190 - Jean-Claude's memory - Missing the beer line

Anyone who's driven for a long time knows just how dull it can be, so to sum up I got there in one piece, the car worked fine, didn't get lost, and rolled into Lapalisse around 8 pm.

Watched the last couple of loads go up, and even managed to register and get a room off Michelle in the bar (it's the law to have a Michelle on the DZ, just like it's law to have a Go Kart track a few kilometers away).

Bought beer and sat outside. Well, to be honest, in between getting the room and ordering the beer, no actual money changed hands, but I did pay for the second one. Watched the sunset load scream in, with one person cutting away although I missed this one, and went to check the room, which was great, and cost about £1 a night. Five beds but I had it to myself. Dumped stuff out of my default bed, the car, and went for dinner. A bit knackered so just wandered the campsite for a while, saw a girl who was the spitting image of Texel Kirsty, but had an English accent, and went to bed.

Morning broke with clear skies and no wind. Somehow managed to sort myself out a chute, and got a Silhouette 190. Kitted up, and ambled over to the second Skyvan (two on weekends!) by the fuel dump, with Marco and a few English people around. Ahh, Skyvan. That leap into the known, still my favorite jump plane.

The Silhouette opens nicely, about the same as the Electra, and you stow the pilot chute the same way. Oddly, it's got softlinks as well, when I thought all the PD kit came with metal rings.

Anyway, there was a light wind, so held over the far side of the airport as usual, then set myself up for landing. Came in perfectly, right in front of manifest, but the wrong side of the beer line. A fat officious looking chap - could have sworn he was English - was deeply unimpressed with me for that, but at least I walked the landing out well. The flare is just as good as the Electra, but the turns aren't as sharp. But then again, I'm comparing a 170 to a 190.

Packed the chute down, noticing four brake lines rather that three (which could throw you) but it went in the bag okay. Rolled the nose just the once and manifested again.

This time hit the other Skyvan on the runway, again with Marco and his freefly disciples, another lovely jump, and this time managed to hold a sit almost all the way down.

Good landing, the right side of the beer line. Jean Claude sat down next to me after I'd packed, and said that I owed them beer that night, and that if it had been a boogie they'd have been really pissed off, because that area gets very crowded with people watching the madmen doing dangerous things. Little knowing that the most dangerous thing is an 85 kilo Jerseyman about to land on their collarbones.

I waved him goodbye a few minutes later and said I was heading for Empuria. He frowned and said the wind was too strong there, and that I should stay. I said I'd be back soon, and I owed him beer. He cracked a smile and promised not to forget either. Truly he is the most decent DT in the world, the bar is well stocked with good food, beer and women, the landing area is big and flat, the planes are Skyvans and the packing area is huge. Lapalisse is my idea of skydive heaven.

Hopped in the car for another arse bending epic.

The road to Empuriabrava - Volvic bastards - Sharing a room with the Spanish drunks - Safire 169 - Too many Brits

It wasn't so much dull as very hard. The road south goes through Volvic volcano land, which is very pretty, but corkscrews like a swine, and you go up to 1130 metres before back down to 800, then back up, then back down. The road goes from motorway to secondary road to dirt track, and frankly I'd had enough when we were just halfway. A straight motorway is something a heavily loaded Cinquecento understands. This sort of rally driving it does not. So we'll draw a veil over that one, and the worst roadside sandwich I have ever tasted, and concentrate of the old volcanoes draped in turf, the rock formations that looked like castles from a distance, and the beautiful sight of the road finally straightening out and making it over the border (no checks, weird) and getting to some decent Spanish autopista.

Cruised down to Empuria, no trouble finding it, and it confirmed that the taxi man at Christmas hadn't ripped us off, he really did take the direct route from Figueres.

Surprised to find the office still open, so grabbed a registration form. Even more surprised to find a spare room. Dumped stuff in a rather crappy bunkroom crammed with Spanish kit, after the regulation two beers watching the last couple of loads come in - and the regulation texting of family (I'm still alive), girlfriend (wish you were here) and friends (ha ha ha).

Walked down the road a bit to remind myself of the town layout, then back for a long wait for takeaway pizza. Actually very very nice. Got to the room around ten, to find three drunk Spanish guys apologising for going through my stuff. They'd been in the room a week, and thought that they just hadn't noticed the sleeping bag, helmet, wash kit, etc etc. Luckily one of them spoke English so we got it sorted out quickly enough, then they went to run around the karting track filming each other. Odd. I needed a shower. I took one, then checked my gear. To be fair, they'd wanted me to do it then and there while they were around, so they weren't that bad.

Hot night, hardly slept, especially after the posse got back in, but eventually woke up around seven, got showered before they were even awake, and walked around to a supermarket for bread and juice.

The DZ opens at nine, so I got checked out by one of their English instructors, got Ben to sort me out a Safire 169 ('Remind me what you jump?' she said. Ahhh), and booked myself on the next Twin Otter load. The two Porters were running as well, but I wanted to jump the Twin.

Up with the three merry Spanish chaps, who were freefly freaks and offered to jump with me later in the day.

Although I was right by the door, I let their three way and two two ways go before launching myself out. Prp again, because this was a Vector harness, and the pilot was in a slightly awkward position, then did a pretty decent sit, managing to control the spins.

Opened at 3K, getting cocky, and found that the Safire really snivels. Still had 2K left, and was pretty well over the DZ, so caned it in just like usual, and it wasn't bad at all. Not quite as sharp as the Electra, again, but not bad at all. And the landing was soft and sweet.

Dumped chute with the moody packers, and decided to wait for it to be packed, even though Ben offered me a Sabre 170 to try. Got the next Twin load, and this time only two of the Spanish guys were there, looking miserable. Ah well, maybe their hangovers had kicked in.

There was a German on my left doing a solo, and a couple of teams in front of us. I fixed an English guy's riser cover for him - no, really, don't thank me you cretin - and by now was getting cocky enough to count people out of the door. Practically threw the Kraut off, and thought about chasing him down for a little unplanned VR, but decided against it.

Turned out to be a good move, because this was the best jump of the lot. Out in a dive, flipped to wave the plane goodbye, then did a stable sit, flipped myself around a bit, watching the Pyrenees and then over my shoulder to peek at the Mediterranean. Finally back to belly fly and hit some big spinning turns, hugged beach ball, arched, and giggled most of the way down. Pulled at 3K again, and practically spiralled down to my final approach. Firmer landing, probably down to being cocky, but no knee touchdowns.

Dumped chute, said cheerio to Ben, and climbed in the car. Good motorway all the way down to Alicante, and into the flat. And then, relax . . .

And to sum up:

Three days, three DZs, three planes, three chutes.

Top plane: Has to be the Skyvan. Twenty-odd people milling around, big exit door, excellent for multiple exits, or just running out like a git.

The Twin Otter takes around 20 as well, but isn't as roomy, and although the door is pretty big, it's still on the side.

Small, cramped, tiny door, but the Porter is still a fun plane to jump, and probably the one we have to get most used to, very few DZs use Twins or Skyvans.

Top DZ: If you want to meet Brits abroad, then Empuria is where they hang out. Big choice of planes, loads of different accommodation, and slap bang in the middle of a (mainly German) holiday resort with the Pyrenees glinting just 24 kilometers away. Staff all fluent in French, German and English, very helpful, but watch out for the crappy bunkrooms. If there for a week, ring and book one of the hundreds of flats. Also beware of the wind, it can change direction completely and pick up just while you're riding up to altitude. Always spot the DZ from your exit to work out when to deploy, was their advice. Once under canopy, spot the flags.

Vannes is our home DZ, so you can't really have a go, but the Hotel la Voltige might be an idea. It's just around the corner, has a good cheap restaurant, and is far less basic than the DZ rooms. 0033 02 97 60 72 06, if you're interested.

Lapalisse is the best DZ. Great bar, good restaurant, much better rooms than Vannes or Empuria, and cheaper than both, good gear hire, friendly manifest (apart from the fat fuck with the walkie talkie), huge packing area, and not many Brits. And a pool. Flights to Lyon might be worth looking into, I'd happily spend a couple of weeks there, even though there's far less to do in the wet than in Empuria.

Top chute: Obviously the bias here is for the Electra, but surprisingly the Legend makes a big impression too. Far more comfortable than the Millennium, although not as good as the Javelin, and it closes like a dream. The more I jumped the Electra the more I liked it, and I haven't even thought of trying front-riser turns yet. Lands fine even in big winds and turbulence, and will be forgiving for those of us who have big gaps between jumps.

The Silhouette is essentially the PD counterpart to the Electra. The Silhouette is much better than the Merit, because it opens softer, and lands neater. Whether it's better than the Electra is far harder to judge - it's close, with only the fact that I've bought an Electra pushing my decision that way.

Sevi raved about the Safire, which is the kiddy chute from Icarus, who also make all those mad and tiny chutes. While its fairly old, it's still a cracking chute given a high wing loading. The landings are fine, the turns are fine, and the openings just a bit too snivelly for me, but not bad. But still, it has to take third place. The new hybrids are the bollocks, once you age them enough to pack them . . .

rpedley