I got off a trip today and decided it was a good time to go wind down. I went to the drop zone. I got on one load and had a good dive with someone, and then signed on for the sunset load.
The dive was fun, but at the conclusion I had a malfunction. A total pack closure due to a "hard pull;" couldn't clear the pilot chute from it's pocket to deploy the main canopy. I managed to get a reserve out by 1,500', which is low for a jumper having an emergency.
Bottom line was a rush to get on the second load. I packed in a hurry, and even though stowing the pilot chute in it's newly modified pouch was a tad difficult, I didn't think twice before getting geared up and in the airplane. I should have checked it more thoroughly. After all...never had a pilot chute hang up before. Much like flying in general...complacency kills, stupidity hurts. Right at the moment, I hurt a lot.
My reserve parachute worked; a Precision Aerodynamics Raven IIb canopy. Ugly pink thing that didn't fly or land very well. But with seven seconds remaining until impact, it worked just great, and that's the main thing. Had it not backed me up, I would be a victim of my own darwinistic tendency toward naturally selective self destruction. That's euphamistic for "he did something stupid and almost bought the farm."
I cleared my dive with the other jumper at five thousand, when we had planned to break at four five. I did a roll, checked altitude and decided to do a back loop. That went okay, and I tracked for another thousand feet, reaching to open at three thousand. The pilot chute wouldn't extract. A second hard tug on it rolled me inverted, and I released the failed chute and arched upright, and pulled the reserve ripcord...got it open at 1,500'. Seven seconds remaining in a best case scenario.
How many times do we read of pilots who overfly fuel stops, or overlook minor squawks, just like I burned up altitude I had available to deal with that malfunction. I thought everything would go fine, and didn't leave myself much of an out. It cost me forty five bucks for a repack, but nearly cost me my life. (Could have; nearly is probably not the right choice of wording). It's a type, however. It's an example of the same aeronautical decision making in microcosm that we execute on a daily basis in the cockpit. How many seemingly innocent and minor decisions do we make daily without truly considering the ramifications...just what could really go wrong. How seriously do we take those possibilities?
Events like this are a wakeup call. Certainly not upsetting, but definitely attention getting. I realize that most folks here don't jump, and most folks don't understand those who do. That's okay. Parachuting is still an aeronautical activity, and it's always best to learn a lesson from someone else, than by making the mistake yourself. You don't have to jump to know that bouncing is bad. My pilot chute hung up in it's sleeve at the bottom of the parachute container. It was a new modification; this was my second jump on that rig since it was installed. I should have taken more time to determine that my method of folding and inserting the pilot chute would work in this installation, instead of assuming that what had always worked before, would work again.
It's no different in the air. Assumptions kill, or maim, or today, just twist your neck into painful positions of discomfort. Weather it's flaking a pilot chute, or performing a weight and balance, or determining takeoff data, or considering the implications of inoperative equipment, very small things become very big things in a short time. Often without warning. For whatever it's worth, let my small wakeup call serve as a quiet heads-up reminder to others who might just consider doing something less than wise today. WAKE UP!!!
The dive was fun, but at the conclusion I had a malfunction. A total pack closure due to a "hard pull;" couldn't clear the pilot chute from it's pocket to deploy the main canopy. I managed to get a reserve out by 1,500', which is low for a jumper having an emergency.
Bottom line was a rush to get on the second load. I packed in a hurry, and even though stowing the pilot chute in it's newly modified pouch was a tad difficult, I didn't think twice before getting geared up and in the airplane. I should have checked it more thoroughly. After all...never had a pilot chute hang up before. Much like flying in general...complacency kills, stupidity hurts. Right at the moment, I hurt a lot.
My reserve parachute worked; a Precision Aerodynamics Raven IIb canopy. Ugly pink thing that didn't fly or land very well. But with seven seconds remaining until impact, it worked just great, and that's the main thing. Had it not backed me up, I would be a victim of my own darwinistic tendency toward naturally selective self destruction. That's euphamistic for "he did something stupid and almost bought the farm."
I cleared my dive with the other jumper at five thousand, when we had planned to break at four five. I did a roll, checked altitude and decided to do a back loop. That went okay, and I tracked for another thousand feet, reaching to open at three thousand. The pilot chute wouldn't extract. A second hard tug on it rolled me inverted, and I released the failed chute and arched upright, and pulled the reserve ripcord...got it open at 1,500'. Seven seconds remaining in a best case scenario.
How many times do we read of pilots who overfly fuel stops, or overlook minor squawks, just like I burned up altitude I had available to deal with that malfunction. I thought everything would go fine, and didn't leave myself much of an out. It cost me forty five bucks for a repack, but nearly cost me my life. (Could have; nearly is probably not the right choice of wording). It's a type, however. It's an example of the same aeronautical decision making in microcosm that we execute on a daily basis in the cockpit. How many seemingly innocent and minor decisions do we make daily without truly considering the ramifications...just what could really go wrong. How seriously do we take those possibilities?
Events like this are a wakeup call. Certainly not upsetting, but definitely attention getting. I realize that most folks here don't jump, and most folks don't understand those who do. That's okay. Parachuting is still an aeronautical activity, and it's always best to learn a lesson from someone else, than by making the mistake yourself. You don't have to jump to know that bouncing is bad. My pilot chute hung up in it's sleeve at the bottom of the parachute container. It was a new modification; this was my second jump on that rig since it was installed. I should have taken more time to determine that my method of folding and inserting the pilot chute would work in this installation, instead of assuming that what had always worked before, would work again.
It's no different in the air. Assumptions kill, or maim, or today, just twist your neck into painful positions of discomfort. Weather it's flaking a pilot chute, or performing a weight and balance, or determining takeoff data, or considering the implications of inoperative equipment, very small things become very big things in a short time. Often without warning. For whatever it's worth, let my small wakeup call serve as a quiet heads-up reminder to others who might just consider doing something less than wise today. WAKE UP!!!
