In July 1998 I managed to live through the most extreme parachute crisis I could imagine - falling into canopy (these words used to fill me with dread, and it looks as if I won't be able to rid myself of those feelings now). It happened in the French Mieussy, where we were just finishing up a sixteen day excursion through France and Spain, organized by Jara Jindra. In those two weeks MAC and I each put in almost 30 flying hours, which of course made us masters of the world. Well, maybe not quite, but in any event I was beginning to get a little bored in the air. And the best remedy for that is to land and walk around on the ground for a few days. That I know today. But who'd take that kind jazz seriously, I'd rather try some figure, now that I've got it so well in hand.

    So we're just flying under 4/8 cumulous when over the radio comes the information that we should land and pack up, we're going home. And just when I'm beginning to like it again. So, slightly disgusted, I finish turning in the last lift and fly towards the landing ground. I've got about a kilometer beneath me, so I try something. Already once I had tried braking the aero, coincidentally in this same place about a year ago. Back then I slowly, really slowly, tightened the handles and the parachute went over to Suck Flug. Following release it started flying again. A comfortable figure ...

    So I'll just try that again today, so that I get it right well in hand and eventually tighten a little more and try the Full Stall. So I slowly, really slowly, tighten, the pull in the handles grows stronger, my hands are somewhere by my backside, I can hardly pull, but the parachute is still flying. Where is the Suck Flug? A little more, there, a little more, crap, the parachute is behind me! Damn that's not what I wanted, at least not right now.

    Hands up ( what a stupidity!). The parachute in front of me ( been through this, it's O.K.), the cords hanging (damn, no one told me about this), the canopy is nearing my bugged out face (shit, this can't be happening!!!), SPLAAAT. Skytex has a typical odor. Well, I didn't crash directly, but I flew into my ear, the parachute skidded off of me and I was free, but the cords were tangled around just about every limb of my body. I hung there dazed for a while, only listening to the screaming sound of the variometer "ooouuuiiiiooouuuuiiiiii", that started when I began rotating around the 1/4 inflated parachute. I should do something, landing like this isn't possible! I try pulling on the loose steering handle leading to the inflated ear - the rotation is slowing. Could I possible try to extricate myself? I look at the cords wound around my feet - and probably not, this mess can't be put back into operation, this is a case for the spare. Damn, beneath me are houses, roads, wires, trees ! With the consciousness that I'm abandoning myself to the whim of the winds, I grudgingly pull out the spare, holding it in my hands, I don't know what to do with it. I really don't. So I open my palm and let it drop under me. I wait, but nothing happens, the wing keeps rotating above me. I look down and the spare parachute is open, but hanging there like a noodle. What the hell is this ?! How can a piece of rag fall faster than I? So I begin pulling on every possible cord until the spare filled up and moved up over my head. That's right, that's the way it's supposed to be.



    Only the noodle of the main parachute is still flapping next to it and is still spinning me. After a while of tugging, I manage to wrap it up in my arms. No laughing matter, ladies and gentlemen! The fall then stabled a bit,(finally resembling a movement akin to flight) and calm overtook the deck. For a little while. Specifically to the point before I started calculating for landing. I couldn't land on the forested hill, beneath it the wires (fairly high). On the hill, on the hill…! We'll spend 'till morning untangling it, but the trees seem relatively safe to me.

    Aaah, so it won't be these trees. The down drift turns along the valley and I'm blazing a trail directly above those wires. (and it's dropping faster than my Spirit.) So what, there's nothing to be done anyway. It's not worth getting nervous about ...



    All of a sudden I begin to move farther from the hillside and the wires. WHHEWW….! Those are beautiful deciduous trees. I don't know why, but I want to get to those trees, despite the fact that there's a meadow next to them. My prayer was heard. Crack, crack, craaaaaak! Well finally, in a while it'll all be over. I look under me. Damn! There are still about 10 meters beneath me and I'm still falling. I haven't won yet. I prepare myself for impact, (well, more accurately put, the thought occurs to me in this adrenaline rush as I see the ground rushing up and I wonder if we'll be friends?). BAM! I land on my feet, as if I'd jumped from a meter. The adrenaline is boiling up within me. With lightning speed I unsnap the straps and start pulling myself out of the rig. (Probably so as not to go up in flames with the plane when it explodes.)

    After I had, while lying on my back with my feet in the air, rid myself of the last vestiges of the cords, the seat shot up about 1.5m into the air. The spare chute had draped itself over a branch at the exact height that would be the envy of every squirrel. I hurriedly grabbed for the radio so that I could, screaming like mad, announce my state. Grappling for the microphone cord, I pull it up, but on its end are only the two little suckers, laughing up at me. Where the hell's the radio? It was in the belt pack. Where's the belt pack? In the seat of course. Only the seat is wide open. Shit! Money, passport, pilot's license, radio, all gone to hell. But I'm alive! Son of a bitch I survived !! The Devil take all that crap anyway ...




    In a short while the first local pilots arrived and I to elaborately explain that nothing is wrong with me and how it all happened. After Mac in the B group hurled to the ground, there followed the "bourbon" first aid and the search for a ladder, climbing trees and so on. But world was unbelievably beautiful then. And that despite the total damages to my property of around 20,000 Czech Crowns.