A Leap of Faith--or Folly

One evening months ago, my housemate and I were in the den surfing the TV when we clicked on skydivers leaping from planes.

“Would you ever do that?” Diana asked me.

“Sure,” I responded, without a thought.

That’s why on a beautiful spring afternoon, I redeemed a gift certificate from Diana and found myself dressed in a jumpsuit, harnessed to an instructor and kneeling at the bay door of a plane at 12,500 feet, ready to jump out for 55 seconds of free fall over Lake Elsinore.

That I am retelling the adventure is proof not of my courage or even skill but of the existence of a dedicated corps of skydiving enthusiasts at Lake Elsinore eager to share their love of what most people consider lunacy.

As Betsy Burkey, veteran skydiver and instructor at Skydive Elsinore, told me shortly before my jump: “It’s a lifestyle.”

The lifestyle we expected to find at Lake Elsinore, off Interstate 15 in western Riverside County, was a bit more pokey. I imagined snowbirds in RVs around the lake and seniors swapping fish stories.

The truth is, at Lake Elsinore the word “gear” is used a lot on weekends: Skydivers gear up for jumps, and hang-gliding enthusiasts haul their gear to the nearby hills. Motorcyclists who flock to the twisting Ortega Highway (California 74) safeguard their leather gear by toting it inside cafes. And, of course, there’s speedboating, fishing and Jet Ski gear on the water.

The 3,300-acre Elsinore, Southern California’s largest natural freshwater lake, is a recreation magnet year-round. The surrounding Ortega Mountains and hills attract hikers and bikers. It’s no wonder the place lures visitors of all ages.

For my turn at Lake Elsinore, I persuaded a couple of friends to jump with me; we’d make it an adventure, I said.

Calling a month ahead for weekend reservations--a necessity--I found the pickings slim: only two or three motels and no real resorts. The bargain $48-a-night room at the Lakeview Inn, next to the freeway, discouraged my friends, who wanted more deluxe digs. And as the day approached, the jump itself seemed to loom larger. They begged off, citing work.

But Diana and I went anyway, checking into the Lakeview Inn on a Friday night and enjoying supper at nearby Vincenzo’s Olive Tree in a small shopping mall. The place was packed. Feeling festive, we ordered a bottle of inexpensive Pinot Grigio and toasted the coming jump. The food wasn’t authentic Italian but authentic Italian-American, meaning heavy on the cheese and buttery sauces.

We returned to our motel, pushed foam plugs into our ears to block the freeway noise and got a solid nine hours of sleep.

Saturday morning we had time to explore the town of Lake Elsinore (population 42,000) before my 1 p.m. jump. We drove to the north part of town, the older section, where a dozen antiques stores dominate four blocks of Main Street. The requisite furniture, clothes, jewelry, old records, dishes and glassware, toys and kitchen utensils abounded, but what caught my eye was a yellow-and-green cardboard container reading “Imitation Ice Cream” for $2. I thought of all the $2 items I had thrown into my blue recycle bin mistakenly thinking they were trash.

Lunch was at La Unica, a Mexican tortilla shop and bakery. Our taquitos, carnitas taco and torta al pastor were so good that they alone were worth the stop in town.

Then we were off to the airfield, where, instead of a quaking group of five or six neophytes, I found nearly 200 skydivers bustling between a cluster of trailers and two tarp-covered cement staging areas. There were silver-haired seniors, young men in buzz cuts, middle-aged moms and dads.

My anxiety increased when I had to sign a release and watch a video stating that the sport was dangerous, that airplanes malfunction, that parachutes fail, that I could be injured or die, that I promised not to sue anyone should that happen, that my personal affairs were in order and that I held no one responsible for anything that might happen to me.

That over, I was told to track down Betsy in the crowd. A veteran of more than 1,000 dives, she explained that this weekend was special because a large night jump was planned. Sixty people, all wearing lights on their suits, would jump from three planes and join in a giant formation.

My jump, by comparison, was a baby step. I was introduced to Christian Rendle, a strapping young Australian who showed me how to arch my back and spread my arms and legs upon leaving the plane. He told me when to pull the rip cord and led me through the process of jumping out the plane door. Three hours later, I suited up and climbed on board our plane.

Christian and I squeezed tight with 18 jumpers perched on two narrow benches along the plane’s sides. As we climbed higher and higher, I could see the jumpers getting happier and happier, smiling and slapping hands. Then the bay door was up and the jumpers inched forward, tumbling out in turn. Christian and I were last.

It was awkward crawling to the door with him tight against my back. When I finally saw the land far below, a ripple of fear hit for the first time and I thought, “Oh my God, I’m going to have to jump from the plaaaa . . . “

Christian and I spun uncontrollably, tumbling head over heels--my fault because I had forgotten to arch my back. But I quickly assumed the correct posture, and we soon were in a controlled free fall with a video cameraman beside us, recording the event.

I tried to smile for the camera, but the wind pulled the spit from my mouth. Falling at 120 mph, I thought the velocity would blow off my goggles, my helmet, Christian and all my clothes, leaving me plunging naked from the sky. Suddenly the parachute deployed.

I had forgotten to pull the rip cord at 5,500 feet, so Christian had done it. I could see the lake below me, the surrounding mountains, the highway. He handed me two straps, and a thrill shot through me as I controlled our direction. When we finally landed, the glide seemed to be over too quickly.

Diana and I toasted the jump with a bottle of champagne.

After another night of blissful sleep, we joined the leather-clad motorcyclists at the Lookout Roadhouse, five miles up Ortega Highway. Over a breakfast of eggs and smoked pork ribs, we watched Jet Skiers make trails on the lake. Then, with the jump still fresh in my mind, we headed home to more earthbound pursuits.

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Budget for Two

Tandem skydive, one person: $179.00

Video of jump: 69.00

Observation plane ride, one person: 20.00

Lakeview Inn, two nights: 105.60

Dinner, Vincenzo’s Olive Tree: 45.27

Lunch, La Unica: 8.99

Breakfast, Lookout Roadhouse: 38.29

Other meals and drinks: 33.94

Tips: 15.00

Gas: 19.15

FINAL TAB: $534.24

Skydive Elsinore, 20701 Cereal Road, Lake Elsinore, CA 92530; telephone (877) 843-5867 or (909) 245-8838, Internet https://www.skydiveelsinore.com. Lakeview Inn, 31808 Casino Drive, Lake Elsinore, CA 92530; tel. (909) 674-9694.