When my son Brian reached his mid-20’s, we created a yearly father/son adventure. As we discussed what this would look like, our list included: kayaking, hang gliding, gliders, scuba diving, sky diving, skiing, rock climbing, etc. The only limits were our imaginations and safety.
Our first adventure was relatively tame: an all-day sport fishing trip. The morning started out early, cold, and gray at the Santa Barbara Harbor. It soon got hot and sunny, and I slathered on the sunscreen, barely staying ahead of sunburn.
I had aquariums when Brian was a child and he acquired marine aquariums for his first apartment, so I knew he liked fish. Still, I didn’t realize what an accomplished fisherman he was until that trip. When the day started, many of the fisherman chipped in to create a “best fish”prize, creating competition and camaraderie for everyone who came out for the day. Fishing is fun when they are catching dinner was on my mind.
The real fascination was in watching Brian in his element. With modern fish finders, the captain could put us right on top of the fish. I was catching rock fish but three feet away, Brian could drop his line in the same place and catch a big fish for every one of the small fish I caught. We all realized just how good of a fisherman Brian was when he got the “biggest fish” prize. It was our first fun adventure and we decided to up the ante for our next trip.
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Taking to the Skies
The next year I was taking the Landmark Forum and my buddies were adventurous. One suggested sky diving and Brian and I signed up. Together we drove up to Lompoc, the nearest sky diving airport, and the three of us spent a long morning watching overcast skies until skydiving was scrubbed for that day. As ready as we were to jump, it was unnerving to be told to go home. I’d been let off the hook and I knew I would have to jump out of an airplane some other day.
The following Saturday dawned clear, so we grabbed my friend Mark and drove out to the airfield. Sky diving is practically a religion for thrill seekers. We were hanging with them for the day and the anticipation was contagious.
These are tandem jumps. You’re hooked to an experienced jumper and share one parachute.Their job is to make sure you get safely back to earth. Brian climbed into the plane with me,and even though we each had our own jump buddy; we were in this together. Once you climb to 13,000 feet, they open the door, the cold wind growls, and soon you are rocking back and forth,looking out at the underside of the wing and beyond. 1, 2, 3, Go! You do a slow flip, and head…straight down. Very fast… about 90 miles per hour. The friend who jumped with us drifted over, waving double thumbs up.
Time goes by amazingly fast and it’s over in less than a minute. Once we were a mile down, my partner pulled the cord and opened the main chute. Boom! we started slowing down. Brian was visible to me as a tiny dot, but we reached the ground only 50 feet apart. My mind was racing; my face ached from the wind and one of the biggest smiles of my life. We slapped high five and Brian said, “Let’s do it again…”
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