The Joy of Silk

by Lauren Tjaden

My harness whipped around in circles; the burger and brownies that had nestled comfortably in my stomach just moments before threatened to crawl up my throat and leap out of my mouth, only I had more important issues to deal with. I fumbled for my parachute handle, but when I managed to nab it, I couldn't jerk the chute loose. I wrestled with both hands, and finally, the sound of the ripping velcro broke the silence. I desperately threw the chute, trying to launch it towards a bit of open space. However, my toss couldn't have been any weaker if both of my arms had been broken. The parachute didn't even deploy. Its container plunked onto the floor unopened, proof of my inadequacy. "Jeez." Matthew shook his head. "That was terrible. Here, try it again." He handed me the parachute container. " That's one of the reasons we have these repack clinics." My husband Paul steadied my harness, still rocking under the carabiner. "Are you going to puke?" "I don't think so. Maybe next time." I swallowed hard and stuffed the container back in the harness. I couldn't help wondering what it would be like to really have to throw my chute; when it mattered, when my life hung in the balance and depended on my training and my wits. Hopefully I'll never have to find out. Of course, I guess no one ever expects it to happen to them. I mean, Sunny Venesky never thought he'd need his chute, either. But he did. Here's his story:

On the evening of June 29th, 1998, one of Sunny's jobs was to test fly the Aeros Stealth KPL glider that had just arrived for a client. Test flying a glider like the Stealth wasn't a particularly un-appealing task. The KPL was among the first of the topless gliders; a fast, sleek machine, created for the serious pilot. Red and blue, it looked as if it wanted to jump into the sky and lean against a thermal; perhaps to challenge it to a race. The conditions were ideal for the assessment. The activity at Maple Airport, in Currituck, North Carolina, had already faded, along with any wind. So, as the sun waned, Chad Elchin (the tow pilot, Sunny's close friend, and a skilled hang glider pilot in his own right) climbed into the tug, and pulled Sunny up over the cotton fields. On tow, Sunny began appraising the Stealth. It was his job to ensure that the glider didn't veer or wobble. He verified that it tracked straight, and that the bar pressure wasn't overwhelming. When Sunny released at two thousand feet, the tests continued. Sunny allowed the glider to fly at trim, to see if it wanted to bolt like a race horse or if it had any tendency to stall. He flew fast and slow, with the VG [variable geometry] half on, full on, and off. He stalled it, banked it hard, and worked it through its full flight range, noting a few slight imperfections, but otherwise the Stealth performed like a new Mercedes. After Sunny landed, he asked Chad to tow him up one more time. The test flight had been quite satisfactory, but the sun still peeked over the horizon, and the air was smoother than glass. Picture a dog being offered a steak. It would be more likely for the dog to resist the meat than for Sunny to resist another flight in the Stealth. On this second trip, Sunny began to play with the glider; to fly the way he loved. He dove at the ground until the Stealth reached terminal velocity. Then he carefully allowed it to pitch up. The glider immediately responded by rocketing towards Jupiter. At the top of the arc, he through the glider into a wingover. Sunny had done some aerobatics in his old Stealth (even made it loop once or twice) but performing the wingover in the KPL was a different experience. The glider had the balance of an Olympic gymnast, and executing the maneuver was as easy as sitting in an easy chair. The Stealth streaked towards the ground for a second time, swallowing the wind in gulps. It flew even faster than the first time, since its dive hadn't begun in level flight. (The KPL's nose was already angled down after exiting the wing over.) Racing downward, exhilarated as a teenage boy at a sock hop, Sunny made a spontaneous decision. What better time to try a loop, partnered with a perfect machine, flying in perfect air? As he felt the glider attempt to slow, signaling that it had again reached terminal velocity, he allowed the bar to creep forward, perhaps four inches, no more. Allowing the bar to let out this much would have been correct in the old Stealth, but the new glider was flying far faster than the old one ever had, ripping along at an estimated one hundred miles an hour. The extra inch or two made all the difference. As it slammed into the air under its nose, the KPL pitched up, not gracefully, as Sunny had intended, but violently, instead. Picture a snowball that suddenly blossoms into an avalanche; a raindrop that turns into a tidal wave. The sudden change in the glider's attitude produced a mush-rooming effect every bit as dramatic. The KPL tried to pitch even higher. When it was successful, it rammed against even more air and tried harder still. Though Sunny has arms that would make "Arnold" jealous, the bar ripped out of his control as if he had no more strength than a toddler. In less time than it takes to open your refrigerator door, the speed bar had shot from around Sunny's ankles to over his head. The Stealth no longer had the power to push back against the wind, and it crumpled. The cross bar folded like a piece of limp spaghetti. Chad, who had missed seeing the dive, gazed upward at that moment, and thought to himself, "I didn't think Sunny knew how to spin a glider..." Sunny didn't, but the Stealth whirled as if it had been caught in a blender. It revolved so fast it continued to climb for a moment, like it was a new, sick version of a helicopter. The sky and the ground and the blue and red kite circled in a blur, but some-how, Sunny's training kicked into gear. He looked for his parachute handle, then ripped at it with one hand. However, while the pins came out, the velcro refused to budge. Sunny yanked again, but even though he had enough adrenaline pumping to power Manhattan, the velcro refused to give, as if it had been stuck with glue instead of nylon. The ground twirled closer, and the wind screamed as though Sunny was caught in a hurricane. Abandoning the speed bar, he began to tug at the parachute with both hands. Now, he and the glider spun independently, both carving different spirals in the sky. Strangely "drowning in this nightmare, struggling with the chute" Sunny had time to ponder mundane things. He stifled a grin, reflecting about how the life-passing-before-your-eyes-business was truly real. The seconds that shot by felt as if they'd been covered with maple syrup; somehow transformed into hours. The faces of Sunny's loved ones streamed through his mind. He could picture his father. He could picture his mother smiling, and his brother laughing. He could picture his friends, too. He'd sure been blessed with lots of great ones. He also thought about the guy who'd ordered the KPL. Sunny couldn't picture his face exactly, but oddly, he imagined it looked lots like his boss' face. Sunny's boss was probably going to fire him; that is, if Sunny ever managed to pry the chute loose. In between tugs on its handle, he glanced at the wing to see if he could figure out why the Stealth had stopped flying. Sunny remembered that the last time he'd repacked his chute had been in Mexico; and that the Margaritas had been tasty that night. He hoped he'd packed his chute correctly, because he wasn't very experienced at the task. He remembered all the times he'd left his harness in the sun, absorbing UV rays. He hoped that Mexican rubber bands weren't prone to rotting. Then, a miracle happened. The velcro gasped, and the chute fell into his arms. Sunny didn't have time to listen to his heart sing or mouth any prayers. He spotted a patch of blue sky tearing past, and flung the chute towards it. It unfolded. The parachute was smaller than Sunny had imagined it would be, a green and orange puff of cloth, but it worked nonetheless. The howl of the wind stopped, as quickly as if someone had flipped a switch. Instantly, his glider's death spin slowed to the dawdling spiral of an autumn leaf. Sunny swung under it, like a human pendulum. In this new, less frantic world, he remembered to climb into the control frame. Sunny's butt poked towards the earth, but he could still crank his head around and gaze down. Depending on which way the pendulum was swinging, Sunny was going to land in either a pond, a tree, or on the strip of gravel road separating them. It was like the game you play as a child with daisy petals the "he-loves me, he-loves-me-not-game " but the random answer would determine if he would choke underwater, plummet into the branches, or only skin himself on the road. He felt like it took longer to descend than it takes to read War And Peace, but finally, landing appeared imminent. It appeared as if the tree might be the winner. However, though Sunny almost skimmed its branches, he finally teetered the other way and cleared it. Thankful that he hadn't been impaled, Sunny swung over the pond. His bottom brushed over the top of the water, but somehow, he missed that, too. In an event as unlikely as finding a contact lense in a snow drift, he landed in the road. Sunny settled onto the road, with as little fuss as a cat leaping off of a kitchen counter. His butt absorbed most of the impact. The glider dropped on top of him, but by the time Chad had screeched up in the truck, Sunny had his head poking up over a wing. Sunny strolled away without even a bump or bruise. The KPL fared almost as well. Sunny and Chad broke it down to examine it, but all it needed was a new crossbar. In fact, it was recently featured on the cover of the USHGA magazine, as resplendent as ever. Even Sunny's parachute survived. It is currently stuffed into the pocket of his harness. Hopefully it will decompose there, never to be used again, because it has surely already served a greater purpose than most of its peers. Hopefully your own parachutes will rot, unused, as well. But Sunny asked that I remind you that no one ever really knows what the day might bring. You could have a mid-air collision, or just become careless in your preflight and miss a frayed cable. Make sure that you're prepared.

Your life could depend on it.