Dale Tupa goes to Eloy

From: Dale Tupa -- posted to rec.skydiving
Subject: Reflections on this year's jumping (**LONG** STORY)
Date: 26 Jun 1995 17:14 MST
Organization: LAMPF Data Analysis Center, Los Alamos, New Mexico

*****LONG POSTING*****LONG POSTING*****LONG POSTING*****

This a  **long article**  giving some highlights from my first
year as a licensed skydiver.  In particular, it's a composite 
of episodes from the trips I've made to Eloy this past season.
I've had great times there and made great friends, especially
Mary Traub -- You go girl!

___________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________

Last summer, after a year and a half of slowly working away at 
getting an A license, I was pretty much known at the DZ as the 
skydiving equivalent of a perennial student - - never seeming 
to get beyond that just-off-student-status stage.  But hey, it 
wasn't all my fault: the drive to the DZ is 6 hours roundtrip, 
I couldn't count the number of times it was too windy for a 
student with a round reserve, and The DZ was stricken with 
mechanical difficulties (the Beech got Beached and the 
QueenAir was ImpAired.)

But then, I got a new lease on life.  Within two months, I got 
a license, I got a rig, and I was in the fourway scrambles com-
petition.  With the scrambles, it was like having a light 
turned on.  So THIS is why why everyone does RW. This is fun! 
This is amazing!  This is mind boggling!  I think the feeling 
can be summarized by the term "Yee-hah!"

Yes, I regained that wild-eyed look that says, "Let me jump! Let 
me jump!"  So I grabbed Mick and asked him to coach me.  But, 
alas!  No sooner had we started when winter struck.  What with 
the sun setting at 5:00, the weather marginal, the DZ down to a 
Cessna 182, I was lucky to average one jump per trip down.

That's when Mick made the speech that changed my life.  
        "Dale,  go to Eloy.  
         Jump all day.  
         *Do not* jump alone.  
         *Do not* say 'Can-I-jump-with-you-but-I-suck?'
         You are a skydiver.  
         Go to Eloy and jump."

**************************************************************

So there I was.....

I was clutching my gear bag as the plane touched down in 
Phoenix four hours after I left my home, wondering at the 
uncountable times I had driven six hours in a day in the hopes 
of making at least one jump.  I was actully disappointed that 
the security guard at the airport didn't try to stop me so that 
I could whip out my Cypres ID card and state, "I Am A Skydiver."  
I was pretty cold, but no way was I going to put on a jacket 
and cover up my "Skydive New Mexico" T-shirt.  I could not con-
tain my astonishment when the clerk at the rent-a-car place 
said, "Eloy?  Why would you want to go to Eloy?"   I mean, come 
on, is there anything else in the state of Arizona?  So maybe 
the Grand Canyon, but only if it rains.

*****

In Eloy, I checked into my hotel, looking over my gear for the 
twentieth time, I set my alarm, wondering if I would be able to 
sleep at all.

In the morning, I felt like I did the day of my first jump.  
I'm in Eloy!  I grabbed my gear and stepped out into the hallway.
        AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
I ran back into my room, slammed the door, and leaned against it.  
The entire hallway was filled with Golden Knights, wearing their 
Golden Knights black stuff, carrying their Golden Knights rigs, 
sporting their Golden Knights shaved heads.  Actually, they sort 
of looked like real people.  I recomposed myself, squared my 
shoulders, and told myself, "I am a skydiver."  I tossed my gear 
bag over my shoulder, I stepped outside, I waved, and I casually 
said, "Hi guys.  See you at the Drop Zone."  (Was there a swagger 
in my step as I walked to the car?)

*****

I followed the signs to the drop zone and found an oasis in 
the desert.  Eloy.  As I stepped out of my car, the sun was 
brighter, the grass was greener, the sky was bluer, and every-
thing seemed to sparkle brightly.  Then I put my sunglasses 
back on and went in search of manifest.

*****

I gingerly approached manifest.  Eloy manifest.  I am stricken 
by the feeling, "I'm not worthy.  I'm not worthy."  Would they 
see through my skydiver disguise?  She asked me for my rig, my 
license, and my logbook.~~~~

~~~~~As she scanned my logbook, her eyes narrowed.  She reached 
under the counter and pressed a hidden button.
        AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!
A fourway team in golden jumpsuits and silver grippers leaps 
from a secret passageway.  "You dare to tread the Olympus of 
skygods!"  They dragged me away, kicking and screaming........~~~~~

~~~~Whew! - - it was just a hallucination.  The manifest girl 
is handing me my logbook.  She smiles and says, "have fun."  
"OK," I reply, "I think I will."

*****

Despite Mick's pep talk, I elect to jump solo since this is my
pre-second jump at Eloy and my pre-second jump from an Otter.  
Hey, so guess what, I get to sit in the copilot's seat!  
Yeehah.  A thousand feet in no time at all.  As I undo my seat-
belt, the plane lurched.  The pilot reached over and fixed the 
knob I elbowed.  The scenery is so different.  Uh-oh, better 
tie my shoes.  The plane lurched.  As I sit up, the pilot is 
flipping the button my helmet smashed.  I babbled excitedly to 
the pilot the whole way to altitude.  Luckily for him, he had 
these insulating earphones on.  Jump Run!  I stand up.  The 
plane lurched.  I extricated myself from the cabin.  The plane 
lurched.  As I check my gear, the pilot is fumbling with 
levers by the copilot's seat.  He gestures to me.  I lean over.  
He says in my ear, "Have fun!"  I can only grin.  The pilot 
gestures again.  I lean over.  He says, " And don't EVER sit 
there again."

I did a poised exit so I can watch the plane fly away.  I can
even read "Skydive Arizona" across the bottom.  Yee-hah!  Top
of the world!   Backflips, frontflips, turns.  Alti?  9,000ft.
Hey, this is exit altitude back home.   Backloops, frontflips,
turns.  Alti?  6,000ft.  Well, that's all I have planned.  So
just what am I supposed to do now?  Feel the wind, feel the
speed and feel the sheer joy of falling!

*****

After landing, I pick up my gear, carry it in.  This guy says, 
"Hi, you must be Dale, I'm Greg."
        AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!
The Greg that I have been flirting with over internet is Greg 
"Jumps-Without-A-Rig-And-Whose-Picture-Is-In-All-the-Skydiving-
Mags" Gasson. And he's a BABE.  I am immediately stricken with 
"computer nerd techno weenie geek syndrome," which renders one 
incapable of conversing normally with 3-D human beings.  This 
condition strikes especially hard when one is in the vicinity 
of an attractive member of the opposite sex, producing the 
desire to throw one's canopy over one's head and sneak into a 
corner.  However, I overcame the crippling jawlock and managed 
to splutter, "Ummmmm, Igottopackrightnow-seeyoulater."  

THEN I threw my canopy over my head and snuck into the corner

*****

Near the end of my very first day in Eloy, the announcement is
made, "anyone who wants to get in on the sunset load, see 
George."

The Spirit of Mick is immediately behind me, "Go for it, Dale,
go for it!"  So I dance over with my ticket.  

George takes it and asks, "Want to do an eight-way?"  

AAAAHHH!!  This would be my pre-second eight-way.  In fact, it 
would be my pre-second n-way, where n>4.   But the Spirit of
Mick is saying, "Go for it, Dale," so I say, "Sure!" 

George then asks me, "Can you dive last and swoop into the
final slot on a free flown eight-way?"

S. of M. says, "Go for it, Dale, go for it!!"  But now my con-
science jumps into the act, "Mick, I don't even know what he's 
talking about!"

Fortunately, George sensed my hesitation and put me on float 
before the Spirit of Mick volunteered me for the double back-
loop delta-T with a twist exit.

So jump number 76 will be one I will never, ever forget:  

I was as nervous on the ride to altitude as I was for my very 
first jump.  The sunset was amazing.  The time between my nod 
to George and "ready-set-go" was the longest and shortest 
interval I've ever experienced.  As we exit the plane, I just 
had this impression of bodies randomly tumbling through space.  
I had never seen that many people in the air at once.  I remem-
ber thinking, "Wow, I feel like I'm in a surrealist painting."  
As I looked around me, I started recognising the people I had 
dirt dove with.  "Hey, look, it's George."  George waved at me, 
then jabbed his finger at the empty air next to him. "OH! Right!  
My slot."  So I flew over and took grips.  Then ZZZOOOOMMM!
Everyboby else was magically in their slot.  I thought, "Hey, 
cool.  It's almost as if they were waiting for me." Alti? 10 
grand. Is time running slower?  We went on to complete 2 7/8 
points (and I wasn't even the 1/8 missing.)  All along, I was 
aware of the deep orange sunset, and the canopy ride down was 
an opportunity to enjoy the view and let the experience sink in.

*This* is why I skydive.

*****

A big reason for me to go to Arizona was to get some coaching 
and come closer to the flying I saw in the four-way scrambles.  
Over the winter, I made several trips there for that express 
purpose.  I got in touch with the Skydive U coach there, and 
Grubb (Kevin Martin) and I made a bunch of jumps.  Grubb is an
excellent coach.  Yes, I'm still an RW novice, but now I'm 
getting the basics down.  It feels good.  I left New Mexico as
"Dale - well, at least she's not going to kill herself"
and returned as <TA-DA!>  "AirDale (Arf)- She's OK"

*****

So Grubb and I get on the Otter for our jump.  It had been
pouring that day, so there were only ten people on the load.
I climb up, walk to the front, and
        AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!
I'm sitting across from Dale Stuart and Ray.  I think, "She
looks just like those pictures in all the magazines.  No, she 
looks *better* than those pictures.  I need to lose about 
thirty pounds."  

You have to understand what it's like to be a girl with the 
name Dale.  Imagine the millions (it seemed like millions) of 
aunts, uncles, and neighbors who would pinch my cheek and say, 
"You could grow up to be just like Dale Evans."  Perhaps it 
was in adolescence that I realized, "Hey, wait.  Would that be 
a *good* thing??  What are these people wishing on me?  Ick!"  
Perhaps this is the source of my anti-social tendencies.  Any-
ways, imagine my satisfaction when I had been jumping six 
months and came across a picture of Dale Stuart, champion.  
A Cool Dale Role Model.  Yes!

Since the plane was empty, I was able to walk back, stick my 
head out, and watch Dale and Ray exit.  It was amazing.  I had 
seen videos of freestyle, but never live.  Absolutely Beautiful!
Why, maybe someday.......

Just then Grubb nudged me for the climb out.  Was it a 
coincidence that this jump was perfect?  I think not.

*****

On the same load, there was a group of guys who were exiting 
7,000 feet to do style and accuracy practise.  When they were 
almost on jump run, one looked forward and saw three women in
pastel colored jumpsuits.  He yelled, "Hey guys, this is a
freestyle load!"  And they all started chanting, "Freestyle!
Freestyle!"  Green light, the door opens, and he does a 
curtsey, a pirouette, and hops out the door.  Not to be out-
done, the next guy lays down and barrel rolls across the floor
and out the door.  So the next guy does a handstand and walks
out on his hands.  So the NEXT guy exits with a cartwheel.  So
the NEXT guy......

*****

I was getting better, and got in with a four-way.  Just then, 
they announced a DC-3 sunset load.  We're there!  This was my 
pre-second jump from a DC-3 and I wasn't the only one excited.  
We set up a jump, we dirt dove, we were ready.  The plane is 
loaded with something like forty (?) people, and the mood is 
delerious.  People were singing.  Jump Run.  Everybody cheered.  
Exit - we're all over the sky. YEEE-HAH!  Jump plan? Dirt Dive?
No one even gave them a second thought.  Billy swooped over, 
grabbed my shoulders, and shook me like a dog shaking a rag, 
then executed a most excellent kiss pass.  All combinations of 
kiss passes were made as we were overtaken by the amazing 
feeling of freefall.  Few sights can compare to that of forty
canopies silhouetted against the red setting sun.

And then, spontaneously, the yodelling contest began.

You gotta love this sport.

*****

"Hi, Dale, How's it going?"
        AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!
It's Hunk-O-Rama Greg again.  He seems unaware of the thunk-a-
thunk-a-thunk noise emanating from my chest ar the panic in my 
eyes.  I grunt, " Higreg-Imfine-Imeanitsfine-Imeanmyjumpingsfine-
Igottodirtdiverightnow-seeyoulater."  As I scampered away, I 
was proud of myself.  Three whole sentences.  Sort of.  I think 
I'm getting the hang of this socializing thing.

*****

Not all my jumps were objects of pride.  Some were downright
humbling.  Going low.  Need I say more?  I struggled and 
struggled to get up.  Thirty seconds have gone by and the
other five in my six-way are still patiently waiting.  After a
heroic effort, I was level.  I reached out.  You know that
painting on the Sistine Chapel that shows God and Adam reaching
for each other, reaching with about one inch of space between
their fingertips?  It might as well have been infinity.  As I
sank down again, life looked dismal and I suck.  I suck.  I suck.
That's it.  I'm not pulling.  I don't deserve to live.  Oh no,
my Cypres is on.  I guess I better pull; I would hate to describe
this jump in a Cypres ad."

*****

The climax of my trips to Eloy was probably the Easter Boogie.
I was ready to go for it.  

At first, things didn't look to good, as the load organizers
were swamped and I kept getting with groups that would then 
swell to twelve-ways - - I don't think so.  But then, they
broke up the Arizona Airspeed team to be load organizers
and pressed Grubb into organizing, so I was able to get in
with some more managable units.  

Possibly the most memorable dive was a mere three-way with Mark 
from Airspeed.  We exited by diving out as a Stealth Fighter 
shaped unit - - the exit was perfect and stamped into my mind.  
We then just cranked.  I was getting so excited that I brain-
locked for a couple seconds after the third round of four 
points.  It seemed like eternity because the dive was flowing 
so smoothly.  I'm pretty sure we went through five rounds, but 
it may have been four, and it even could have been six.  But it 
really doesn't matter; it couldn't be any better.

**************************************************************

I returned to New Mexico with a swagger in my stride.  I can't 
wait to tell my stories to everybody.  

"Hey JaneAnne, JaneAnne!  I went to Eloy!"

"Hi Dale, I heard so."

"You already heard?"

"Yes, we heard you were banned from the Otter copilot seat."

        AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!

***************************************************************

Dale      [ (Aire)Dale  (Arf-Arf)]