The Three-Second Rush

The athletes move through the new Nike commercial in about two dozen sports that you usually don’t get arrested for--gymnastics, boxing, snowboarding, familiar sights on the U.S. fitness landscape--and then the one exception.

The camera pulls back for a long shot of an athlete named Lottie Aston, whose feet dangle over the edge of a towering steel bridge. She jumps.

Under a blue sky, Aston’s parachute unfurls for a 730-foot drop. She lands upright in a canyon and then sprints off.

Aston was allowed to make the jump under a special film permit. But in the U.S., her sport--called BASE jumping--usually is prohibited and practiced in secret.

BASE is an acronym for Building, Antenna, Span (bridges) and Earth (cliffs), the main spots from which the parachutists leap. All are unforgiving, low-altitude places that promise a singular ground rush and, on occasion, James Bond-ish thrills. In downtown Los Angeles, for instance, jumpers sneak into sites such as the 1100 Wilshire building and, to avoid potential trespassing charges, parachute off the 37-story luxury office tower at night.

Stealth jumps notwithstanding, the sport is beginning to emerge from the underground. An unofficial network of longtime BASE jumpers is riding a spike in the sport’s mainstream appeal, which, they acknowledge, is limited by the fact that most U.S. buildings and lands are unavailable to them. Still, in a bid for credibility--and more legal jump sites--veteran jumpers are offering training sessions and camps that stress safety, and selling gear made specifically for their sport.

At the same time, the sport’s profile is being raised by BASE jumpers who sign deals as sponsored athletes and appear in film and video projects distributed by big names such as the National Geographic Channel.

“This [exposure] gives us a chance to come out of the darkness,” said Felix Baumgartner, 32, a BASE jumper who is sponsored by Red Bull, the hip energy drink company. “This sport has so much power. It’s so strong. Most people who watch BASE jumpers don’t believe what they see.”

In December 1999, Baumgartner traveled from his home in Salzburg, Austria, for an attempted launch from an internationally recognized icon: the 98-foot-tall Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro. From launch to impact, Baumgartner would have 2.5 seconds--long enough, he hoped, for him to pull his parachute and for the canopy to inflate properly and slow his descent so he could land on his feet. He would have no time for a reserve parachute, no time to correct for a swirl of wind. (By contrast, a typical skydive from an airplane, at an altitude of 3,000 feet, takes roughly two to three minutes until touchdown.)

After five months of training, Baumgartner headed for the base of the statue with a crew of assistants. On a morning with no wind, Baumgartner began his ascent with the help of a ground crew that watched for security patrols. At daybreak, he fired a cable from a crossbow that allowed him to climb to the statue’s outstretched arm. He jumped and landed without incident, rushed into a getaway car that had bogus license plates and made international news.

Long before BASE jumpers began inviting public attention, their so-called bandit jumps were known to other BASE jumpers through lore marked by bravado. In private, some veterans tell of concocting elaborate ruses involving forged employee passes, paying off security guards and removing air-conditioning grates, all to pull off a stealth building jump. In 2001, BASE jumpers were arrested or cited for parachuting off buildings in cities including Minneapolis, New York and Paris.

On Jan. 8 at about 2 a.m., 29-year-old Robert Tompkins parachuted from the top of the 1100 Wilshire building, according to Los Angeles police. He landed, uninjured, on an officer’s car.

Los Angeles police officers have spotted four other people parachuting off that building in the past year, said police Lt. Jose Perez. Police are concerned about what would happen if such a jumper should land in traffic, he said. But there’s not much officers can do. “You would have to have someone on the roof 24/7,” Perez said.

Buildings such as the 1100 Wilshire tower are known to BASE jumpers nationwide who trade information about sites that have easy rooftop access. (Representatives of 1100 Wilshire did not return calls for comment.) In October 2000, a Denver police surveillance team began monitoring the 37-story Embassy Suites hotel, which, at the time, was known as a BASE-jumping hot spot, officer Jody Pulford said.

One night, 31-year-old BASE jumper Hank Caylor and a friend managed to elude police and get to the roof. Caylor, who was an experienced skydiver and BASE jumper, dove off the building first and found himself in immediate trouble. His chute malfunctioned, slamming him through double-paned glass windows on the 21st floor. He was treated for minor injuries and arrested on suspicion of reckless endangerment.

During Caylor’s trial, prosecutors contended that hotel employees or pedestrians could have been hurt by shattered glass from the botched jump. But Caylor was acquitted. In news stories, jurors said Caylor had planned the jump with care and was not reckless; they also pointed out that there was no specific law against BASE jumping.

Legalities and potential dangers tend to be overshadowed by the striking images of BASE jumpers in flight, which increasingly are being wrapped in credible packages. Two months ago, National Geographic Channel began airing a 26-part adventure series in the U.S. called “Out There,” which includes an episode featuring Santa Barbara BASE jumper Tom Sanders and his leap off the world’s tallest waterfall. Sanders parachuted off Angel Falls in Venezuela--film producers got permission for the event--in tribute to his wife, Jan Davis, who died 2 1/2 years ago, at the age of 58, while BASE jumping in Yosemite National Park.

The Nike campaign tapped Aston for its 90-second “Just Do It” commercial, which was intended to show how movement links athletes in a wide range of sports, including BASE jumping. “It’s one of the more stunning parts of the ad,” Nike spokesman Scott Reames said of the bridge jump. “You’re sort of caught for a second--’What was that?’

The sport is also finding a new audience and cachet via unexpected marketing efforts. A Red Bull Web page featuring its extreme athletes, for instance, credits Baumgartner with making the world’s lowest BASE jump, from the Christ statue. (In a phone interview, Baumgartner, a professional extreme athlete, said he warns wannabes away from attempting the kind of jumps that he lands.)

“We really support the individual spirit,” said Emmy Cortes, a spokeswoman in Red Bull’s Santa Monica-based North American headquarters. She notes that company-sponsored BASE-jumping expeditions are only made at legal sites outside the U.S. “Humans taking flight has a lot to do with our brand.... [BASE jumping] is a perfect image. It encourages people to take risk and live a little.”

On the other side of the demographic, Ensure nutritional products sponsored North Carolina BASE jumper Jim Guyer, 73, who agreed to promote Ensure in 2000. Ensure’s maker, Ross Products, didn’t attach any conditions to his jumps but doesn’t “endorse any type of illegal activity,” Ross spokeswoman Chris Thomas said.

Legalities vary from location to location--there are no uniform laws prohibiting BASE jumping.

Jumps are allowed with the permission of, say, a property owner. Barring that, jumpers find places where they won’t be charged with violations such as trespassing or reckless endangerment--for instance, some cliffs overseen by the Bureau of Land Management.

And occasionally the door swings open. This year, and in 2000, a contingent of U.S. BASE jumpers plunged off buildings in Malaysia at invitational events; a promotional event in February was endorsed by Malaysia’s youth and sports minister.

In October, West Virginia will host about 300 BASE jumpers from all over the world on Bridge Day, the state’s largest single-day festival. As part of the event, which attracts 80 to 100 media representatives from every continent except Antarctica, jumpers will parachute off the 876-foot-tall New River Gorge Bridge in Fayette County, by special permission of the state legislature. The eight-second jumps are preceded by gear checks and other safety precautions.

BASE jumpers aren’t welcome in most other U.S. jurisdictions, acknowledged Keith Spangler, chairman of the Bridge Day Commission. But “well, West Virginians, we have a sense of adventure. [We’re] free-spirited. The Western slogan is ‘wild and wonderful.’”

All the recent exposure could backfire if it prompts a rush of newcomers, acknowledged Jason Bell, 31, of Bridgeport, W. Va. On his Web site, www.vertical-visions.com, Bell stresses that BASE jumping is hardly a spontaneous form of expression. Rather, it requires years of training and at least 150 skydives, Bell advises newcomers.

For that reason, most BASE jumpers have tended to be careful, experienced skydivers. “When I started jumping in ‘93, it was very much in the closet,” said Bell, a mechanical engineer. “Now it’s like everyone and their mother is jumping.... It’s amazing what it has evolved into.”

The sport took off in the late 1970s, after a handful of experimental skydivers began making regular jumps off El Capitan in Yosemite. For the next 15 years or so, BASE jumpers hooked up with one another by asking around at skydiving drop zones. In 1994 a Web site, www.blincmagazine.com, began its role as a BASE jumper’s hub.

So far, BASE jumping has no recognized governing body or oversight by entities such as the FAA, which sets standards for some skydiving equipment. BASE jumpers have no formal organization that can track figures on such things as participation and fatality rates. But Bell and other experienced U.S. BASE jumpers are working on a plan for a structured group that will, among other goals, propose safety guidelines later this year.

The group is led by Mick Knutson, 31, a software architect who runs the BASE jumpers’ Web site in Salt Lake City. The site gets 260,000 hits a day, Knutson said. In the U.S., he estimates that there are about 10,000 active BASE jumpers. By his count, the fatality rate is low. Worldwide, in the past 20 years, 41 people have died on BASE jumps, Knutson said. (By comparison, from 1990 to 2000, the U.S. Parachute Assn., the FAA-recognized group that sets voluntary safety standards for skydivers, has tracked 349 fatalities. There are more than 350,000 skydivers nationwide, according to the Virginia-based association.)

Over the years, with the help of digital cameras that record their efforts, pioneering BASE jumpers say they have been able to perfect techniques for a new generation that doesn’t have to jimmy up skydiving equipment anymore.

“When I started, there was no sport,” said Anne Helliwell, a BASE jumper since 1981 and a longtime skydiver. “It was an act of foolishness, basically, that we got away with.” Now, she said, she thinks of the sport as high-risk but much safer than it used to be. The company she co-owns, Basic Research Inc., in Perris, Calif., designs and manufactures BASE jumping gear. Helliwell teaches BASE jumping courses, leading expeditions to legal sites in Norway and elsewhere. She also is designated by the FAA to give exams to people who rig parachutes for skydivers.

Skydivers tend to be divided about BASE jumpers, said Jack Gramley, general manager of Perris Valley Skydiving center, which offers a school and drop zone. “You either have a group of skydivers who say, ‘Those people are crazy. What are they doing?’” said Gramley, a competitive skydiver and FAA-certified parachute rigger. “Then you have those skydivers who say, ‘I wouldn’t have the guts to do it, but I really admire that they do it.’”

(U.S. Parachute Assn. officials declined to comment on BASE jumping, noting that the participants use different equipment and different techniques than skydivers do.)

BASE jumping demands unshakable nerves, said Jean Potvin, a skydiver and physics professor who studies parachute inflation and flight at St. Louis University. “I look at [them] and think, ‘Oh boy, you’re taking a chance.... Those people have crossed the psychological barrier, and they trust their equipment.”

The new BASE-specific gear is reliable, and the sport can be practiced safely by experienced jumpers if all goes well, Potvin said.

But the ante is upped for those who want to jump off buildings, he said. Odd winds that swirl around high-rises could slam a parachutist into a window. Vision becomes tricky on a nighttime jump from a high-rise, when the backdrop is darkness and not blue sky. Jumpers must be able to steer their chutes away from power lines, telephone poles and other obstacles. All in a matter of seconds.

Night jumps aren’t gutsy enough for some, though. On a Blincmagazine.com forum, a participant dismisses them as wimpy. “I have 127 jumps, all from very high-bust factor buildings,” the writer noted in a March 10 posting. “I’ve always jumped at midday during the week to ensure great light conditions for [my] camera. Why would you jump under moonlight? The jump wouldn’t show up very well in film and no one would be able to marvel at your courage.”

If there were more legal sites, BASE jumpers wouldn’t have to sneak around, and the sport would be safer because people could practice in daylight, said Blincmagazine’s Knutson. He doesn’t approve of jumps like the one Baumgartner made off the Christ statue, saying, “There’s too much disrespect to the country, to the item itself.”

Knutson said he typically enters buildings through unlocked doors and follows the leave-no-trace ethos that he promotes on his Web site. “I take nothing and leave nothing,” he said. “All I’m doing is borrowing a little altitude at two or three in the morning.”

The jumps, he said, are about staring down fear, about dreams. “Standing up on the edge of a building ... it’s very personal and very deep,” Knutson said. “You can’t explain the euphoric feeling that you get, and the little hairs standing up on your hand when you’re in free fall.... You’re flying like you wished you did when you were a kid.”