Nostalgia

Mt Baker from Chain Lakes trail

I woke from a dream this morning that was tied to my years of skydiving. One of the activities I enjoyed very much was working as a freefall photographer, filming people who were practicing for competition. I was filming a 4-way group when I broke my pelvis in 2000 after a bad landing. And although I recovered and went on to make many more skydives, I never again wore a camera helmet. In my dream last night, I wore one again.

In some ways, the fact that it all happened twenty years ago seems impossible to believe, but at other times it feels like it was more than a lifetime ago. I haven't made a skydive in five years, but it was such a central part of my life for so long (25 years) that it's still, and always will be, an unforgettable part of me. I spent more than 62 hours of my life in freefall, averaging 50 seconds at a time, during more than 4,000 leaps from airplanes. And helicopters and hot-air balloons. Not only my pelvis, but my entire being, is changed because of those years spent involved in the sport. So I guess it's not surprising that I would dream about it now and then.

In the dream, one of the resident videographers had been injured, and I was trying to decide whether or not I would take his place on the roster. As is the nature of dreams, it all seemed so mundane and my decision revolved around whether or not I could be trusted by those I would be filming not to fall on them. Here's the way it works: the videographer climbs outside the aircraft, holding onto the frame, and the team gets in position in the door, all holding onto each other so that they don't need to build the first formation from scratch. They give a count, and the videographer needs to see the count and leave a split second before the team, so that you can capture the exit for later scrutiny. They then begin to make a series of formations, while the videographer films from a position just above and to the side of them. (Maybe it's easier to see if I show you a picture, snagged from the internet.)

Videographer

What the videographer needs to do is get close enough to the formation to show all the grips, but not close enough to get into the disturbed air above them (called the burble), because then you would not have any air to fly on yourself, and you would take out the formation (I almost did that once). The videographer needs to trust the skydivers not to do anything unexpected, and when filming, you need to leave a bit before they turn and track off in order for each one to have clear air to deploy a parachute. I didn't mean to get involved in all this detail, but when I tried to explain, it became more and more difficult. Suffice it to say that it was a period of time in my life that I enjoyed tremendously, but it was decades ago. Now all I do is occasionally dream about it.

When I moved to the Pacific Northwest in 2008, I continued to skydive occasionally, but it was never the all-consuming activity it had been for so many years. Instead, I began to hike with the Senior Trailblazers and became a fixture in the group that went every Thursday on a hike that gave us plenty of miles and elevation gain and loss. In the summer, we would go on several favorite hikes. One of them is in the Mt. Baker wilderness area, a seven-mile-long loop up over a pass and down into the Chain Lakes region. I took that picture at the beginning of this post in 2018, on a clear day in August.

It's now been more than two months since we've been on any hikes together, because of the pandemic and the lockdown still in effect. Although I've tried to be positive during this period, I sometimes forget that while I am able to walk and occasionally even go into the local forests around here, I am losing my ability to walk long distances and climb and descend passes, like the one I had to climb in order to take that picture of Mt. Baker. Of course, it was beginning to be more difficult even before this pandemic shutdown took effect. For the past two or three summers, I would skip the more challenging hikes because it became impossible for me to keep up with the others. 

Now I realize that, just as I gradually lost the enthusiasm for skydiving, I will probably not be able to continue, after this is over, to continue my activities at the level that I took for granted before. Life moves on, and we don't get to stay in the moment; everything must be appreciated and enjoyed when it happens. I'm not saying I'm unhappy about it all, but it's obvious to me that these months away from the gym, away from logging step counts in the thousands, it will not be the same when I return to my usual activities. 

Last week I went on a rather strenuous hike on Thursday, with my friend Melanie urging me on, and I am still recovering from it, three days later. I had a Zoom yoga class yesterday, which helped me get over most of the real soreness, but I realized that the hike was more than I should have attempted. Some of us take awhile to accept changes in our lives, and especially in our bodies, while others adapt much more easily. Unfortunately for me, I am one of those who needs to be constantly reminded of my evolving circumstances. No one can take away those years of enjoyment in the mountains with my dear friends, and I can still continue to take pleasure in them in a more sedate manner.

There are a few moments in your life when you are truly and completely happy, and you remember to give thanks. Even as it happens you are nostalgic for the moment, you are tucking it away in your scrapbook. ― David Benioff

My own virtual scrapbook is overflowing with wonderful memories of times gone by, times spent with exhilarating activities and dear friends. Those memories are precious to me, and they will always be available to sift through, remember, and give thanks.

And of course I always remember to give thanks for you, my dear readers, who spend a few moments with me in our wonderful shared virtual room. It's always nice to be together. My tea is gone, my dear partner still sleeps, and it's time for me to begin the rest of my Sunday, make some coffee to sip in my favorite chair, and reminisce about the old days. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things and admonish you to stay safe.