BASE Jumping:: BLiNC Magazine Forums - Blogs http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/ en Fri, 19 Mar 2010 05:03:36 GMT vBulletin 60 http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/images/misc/rss.jpg BASE Jumping:: BLiNC Magazine Forums - Blogs http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/ The Newbie Chronicles - My first year in BASE - Part Two: February http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/para_frog/19-newbie-chronicles-my-first-year-base-part-two-february.html Wed, 17 Jun 2009 19:45:49 GMT Part Two - February

“Shit!...SHIT! Right there! Right there! I see em!” Lance Corporal Felipe Rael was looking through the man pack thermal imager, which by 2009 no longer existed in the inventory and whose nomenclature had long since escaped me.

He had seen a group of vehicles and human figures moving in the cold darkness of the Kuwaiti desert night.

My blood turned to ice, and my stomach began to twist into knots. I couldn’t hide my fear – ever – and the guys made fun of me. Not because I freaked out or anything, but because when danger was eminent, I always got the shits. Just like that. I was powerless to prevent it. My Team Leader would always start a very hot operations order by throwing me a roll of toilet paper. That’s how he told everyone the next mission was going to be a bitch. I just took the ribbing. Worked great for keeping extra weight off.

We had been warned by the Intel pukes that a company of Iraqis had moved into our sector. We’d heard that before, and nothing had materialized from the spot reports, but now they had come.

“Where?” I asked.

Felipe stepped aside and I looked through the eyepiece. I saw at least a couple dozen red forms moving through trenches near a police station on the other side of the border from Saudi Arabia. They were perhaps 2000 meters away. Vehicles were moving up towards them, most notably, two self-propelled artillery pieces. I deduced that their numbers would soon blossom.

There were eight of us at Observation Post Six.

“Oh shit.”

Gunnery Sergeant Correll, our platoon leader, pulled out a can of Copenhagen and pinched out half of its contents with three fingers. He shoved most of it into his bottom lip; the rest falling like sawdust onto his flak jacket and cascading down his front. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and packed the disgusting wad of shit down until he could speak intelligibly.

“Oh fuck yeah.” He grinned, “This’ll be some good shit. Get fire support on the horn Harvey.” I stood dumbfounded. The guy was actually happy we were about to get pounded. How is that possibly normal you sick bastard?

He looked at me, undoubtedly recognizing, possibly even smelling, the fear the enshrouded me. “Any fucking day will do just fine, Harvey. I’m sure the Indians will wait.”

I snapped out of it.

“Roger that Gunny.”

Twelve hours later, I was standing in a circle at the base of the five-story building that served as our perch. Reinforcements were in charge of the outpost and the eight of us who had survived the night were smiling, laughing, chewing Copenhagen like it was going out of style, and to a man we were visibly shaking. The air smelled sickly sweet of a mixture of burning petroleum, explosives, and propellant. By the grace of God, the conscripted artillerymen of the Iraqi Army couldn’t hit their asses with both hands and a roadmap.

It was over. And holy shit what a rush. It would take years to brush off any fear of people’s opinion and vocalize the fact that I found the entire experience fun. Perhaps that is proof positive that I’m not quite right, but in the retrospect of zero casualties – that night was one of the most fun I have ever had.

Some will read that statement and assume I’m off my nut. BASE jumpers will read it and probably get it completely, even if they have never been in combat. I had spent years training, preparing, rehearsing, managing risk, and planning to bring me to that night, that singular life-threatening moment at OP Six and it had executed flawlessly. Now it was time to revel in the moment with those who had survived it with me.

Sound familiar?

That is why I pursued BASE jumping sixteen years later. Having done a million BASE jumps in my mind, I had determined that it was the only place I would come close to replicating that feeling in the absence of war.

I went to see Blondie in Twin Falls shortly after meeting her on the plane on my way back to Boise from Officer Candidate School. As I drove across the Perrine Bridge for the first time, I saw a group of people standing near the middle on the east side, looking over the railing. They were wearing parachutes. I’d been skydiving for a lot of years, and yeah, those must be BASE jumpers. It’s the middle of the friggin day! Are they retarded?

I didn’t wait around to see them jump, I had a gorgeous blonde waiting and priorities are, after all, priorities. When I arrived at Blondie’s, I told her “There were BASE jumpers on the bridge.”

“Oh yeah, they jump ALL the time.” Blondie is my soul mate. As corny as that sounds, anyone who knows us can attest to the fact that there are not two other people on this Earth that would so perfectly put up with us individually. Or at all for that matter. We’re perfect. And she knows every thought in my head before I do. So she asks me, “You wanna go watch em?”

We head down to the visitor’s center on a beautiful fall evening. The nights are still long, so jumpers stay late into the evening doing their thing. I just hover and watch them pack, gather a load, and head out. I get to stand right next to them and watch. It was awesome. No sneaking around in the dark, no running from cops. It was just part of Twin Falls. Amazing.

After watching a load leave the bridge, we walked back to the packing area. There was a very attractive European woman packing all alone, so we walked over. Having skydived for so long, the one thing I DID know about BASE was that one of the secrets to success was in the packing.

“Can I watch you pack?” I asked, not knowing if it was some secret ritual or what.

“Sure!” She said.

So Blondie and I sat and watched her pack. I had no idea what the hell she was doing. I’d flat packed, and yeah, it looked like that a little, but it was so pretty. No other word to describe it. The symmetry, the deliberate nature with which she made every fold; it was beautiful. When I packed for skydiving, it was a ball of shit I shoved in a bag. Heading? Who gives a shit? This was very intriguing to me.

Over the next few months, that cycle continued. I hovered, watched, asked hopefully intelligent questions, did some research, and got to know a few jumpers. I met Jamie, some friends of his from Cleveland – John and Shari, this very talented and very enthusiastic guy named Miles Daisher, and some really really big pointedly sarcastic fucker everyone called Tree. They were all very nice. They answered questions that they had all answered a thousand times, and they never once dismissed me for being some dumbass with a death wish. I wasn’t in any hurry, and I suppose they didn’t perceive I would sully the sport through lack of due diligence. Every time I came to Twin, I looked for this group. Sometimes I found them; sometimes I bumped into traveling jumpers. I would spend entire days watching people just practicing flat and stable. Hell, I still do. I enjoy watching people BASE jump.

Over the winter, I asked around my dropzone about BASE jumping. As it turned out, the DZO had done a few jumps at Perrine. He even had a BASE rig for sale. There was a regular BASE jumper at the DZ, but he had no interest in addressing my curiosity, and I don’t beg for anything in my life. Brian, the DZO, let me borrow the rig to take it to Twin and have it looked over by some of my new BASE acquaintances – they weren’t friends yet.

One weekend, I took it down with me to Twin. It was February. February 24th to be exact. I’d arrived the evening before and headed to Blondie’s. I got up early Saturday and headed to the bridge. She’d catch up later.

When I got there, there was only one jumper. It was cold and overcast. The conditions were fine for jumping, but it wasn’t premier hanging out weather. I approached this jumper, whose name I won’t use since I haven’t talked to him about this article, and asked him if I could…you guessed it, watch him pack. He had no problem with it and even struck up a conversation.

Have you ever met someone about whom you had heard and had no idea you were talking to them? Yeah. Wish I could go back to that first day and not be such a dumbass. Simply put, the man was a legend in my business - revered by the warrior class. My dad still wants his autograph, and it has nothing to do with BASE jumping. Add to that he’s just one of the nicest people you’ll meet in our sport…anyway…

We talked while he packed. He asked my story. I gave it. Talked about my background, my admiration of the sport. I brought up the rig I’d dragged down from Boise. It was a Perigee II with a Consolidated Rigging Mojo 280 in it. An old-assed Mojo 280. I later found out that rig had bounced around a lot in the BASE world, and it’s a testament to the manufacturing that it was still as solid as it was new. I asked if he’d look it over and he agreed. I brought it over and dumped it out.

He laid it out, checked it over very meticulously, and said “Well, let’s pack it up.”

He started packing it and telling me about every step of the process. I tried as hard as I could to absorb what he was telling me, but as anyone who has ever learned to pack knows…you’re NOT going to get it the first, or first fifty, times. About the time we were to the reduction folds, a guy walked over. I recognized him from his website. It was Tom.

The stupid high-school politics that insist on being a part of BASE jumping have included Tom catching a lot of shit. Some deserved, I’m sure, as we all own. But one thing about The Harvey – I have, and always will, judge things and people of their own merit. Beginning on that cold, dull, February day, and ever since, Tom has been nothing but helpful to me. He has never done me wrong personally, and I number him among the select few people in this life I call friends. That very group includes people who vehemently dislike each other for any number of reasons. As I have said before, he’s always welcome at my exit point. And if one of my friends who dislike him is there, I am confident they will keep their opinion to themselves out of respect for my apathy to it. Or out of the knowledge that I will throat punch them if they don’t. Whatever. My exit point will be a happy place.

Tom knew the jumper who was packing the rig. He asked about the rig, he asked about the big meathead who was watching him pack. Tom recognized something that I did not, and he exercised a concern he had learned over hundreds of jumps. He was watching a gate keeper of BASE slowly opening the gate to allow someone in. I was oblivious to what was transpiring.

There was tacit concern in Tom’s dialog with my new acquaintance, but I recognized a level of respect that Tom had for him. Looking back, I see now that Tom trusted his judgment. Probably due more to whom he was as a man than as a BASE jumper.

Some other jumpers showed up who were meeting up with Tom. Introductions were made. There was Bill, and Collin, and a fella from Ireland taking Tom’s BASE course. They were all happy, and enthusiastic, and immediately felt like my kind of people. Everyone stood around and chatted about completely random things. The stories were bawdy and the language coarse. Yeah, my kind of people.

When Tom’s group walked away to address some items with his student, the jumper who had just closed what was soon-to-be my rig looked at me and said “So you want me to PCA you?”

“What, now?”

“Yeah.”

“Um, yeah, well, shit…YEAH!”

My heart started trying to jump out of my chest. Holy shit. Am I ready for this?

I mean, I’m good under canopy, I’ve done some homework, I’m good in stressful situations. Shit. Am I ready for this?

“You got boots and a helmet?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I brought them down.”

It had been my intention to watch and learn until I was ready, then try a hand-held - all by my lonesome. It’s a long story, and nothing I would ever recommend, but the most common way for me to have learned anything in my life was through self-teaching. I was never too proud to ask questions and then re-ask them. It’s just how I’m wired. I just DO things. Once that was out of the way, I wanted to take a FJC.

But here I was. About to be death camped – and I hadn’t even ever heard the term.

I ran to the car (for some reason I felt hurried – as if my new BASE friend would change his mind). The first thing I grabbed was my phone. I called Blondie.

“Hey baby? Get down here. I’m going to jump right now.”

“Seriously? Oh boy. OK, I’ll be right there.”

The Army had just made a transition to the Army Combat Uniform. It’s a digitized camouflage that was initially developed by the Marine Corps and adopted because of its superior cloaking ability. The flipside to a re-fielding of new uniforms was that it leaves you with a huge surplus of the old ones. The Battle Dress Uniform, as the old ones are called, is a very utilitarian, comfortable garment. Perfect for parachuting into “wilderness” or other such nonsense. I grabbed a pair and put them on – having NO idea that they had become the scourge of BASE jumping over the previous years and a subject of much criticism.

The dude about to put me off just kinda looked at me. I had no clue why he had that look on his face. I was a billboard for newbie BASE jumpers. I looked like a tool. The whole thing was scripted perfectly. Quite Harvey-esque if I say so myself.

I put on boots and a hoodie, grabbed my snowboard helmet, and marched over to my friend. He had donned his rig and looked ready to go. He handed me my rig and I put it on. Felt just like any other rig, but more comfortable. The single canopy was lighter, and this thing was perfectly sized for me – I mean perfect – and that’s no small task. I’m not a slight guy. (The nickname Bacongrease will be addressed in a later chapter – Moab).

He gave me a very thorough gear check, looked at me, and said “Let’s practice your exit.”

“OK.”

My heart was pounding, and my face was flush. I couldn’t remember the last time I was scared. And there was no doubt about it, I was scared shitless. As I said before, and as anyone who’s since heard me utter the infamous words “I hate objects” knows, I am never too proud to admit fear. If anyone had asked, I would have gladly told the just how freaked out I was feeling. I have been scared of heights my entire life - I possess a paralyzing fear of them. It has been a struggle to overcome it various situations my entire life, but I have always managed to. Special Operations is no place for acrophobes, and that's where I've been most of my adult life.

The next time any of you are at the Perrine with me, take note of where I’m standing if I’m not wearing a rig. You will never see me on the rail. I mean, come on, bolts fail right? That thing has GOT to just fall off at some point, doesn’t it? It’s old and everything, you know. I just don’t want to take my chances. I pretty much affix my ass to the Jersey barriers next to the roadway. I don’t like high places.

I do, however, have a great deal of faith in the single parachute container system. When I have one on, configured correctly for the altitude, I will climb around on anything like a monkey.

We walked from the visitor’s center to the path under the bridge. We stopped at the lower overlook and he pointed out the landing area to me. I’d seen it before, but now someone was there to point things out to me.

“See those bushes?” He pointed to the tree line between the beach and the LZ, “Yeah, they’re trees.” He said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, the height is deceptive. They’re pretty tall, so naturally, stay away from them.”

The wind was blowing out of the west, so I knew my jump would require a 180 degree turn. I asked him about it.

“Yeah, just fly straight out and com into a normal right approach. Make sure you’re taking the toggles and coming ALL the way down with the right, and let up all the way with the left. These canopies turn a lot slower than you’re used to.”

He made me show him the motion of steering a BASE canopy. Left turn, right turn, flare. Got it.

Blondie showed up right about then. She gave me a kiss and saw the grin on my face. I have no idea how scared she really was for me. She never showed it. She was happy that I was happy. That was all.

I introduced her to my friend, and he told me to come up the stairs to the first landing with him.

“This rail is just like the one at the exit point, so you can practice climbing over here.”

That was a relief. Climbing over a thin metal railing to a three-inch concrete lip 486 feet above a very certain and very violent death is not a natural act. I had no idea what it would feel like when I did it. It would be nice to practice two feet above the ground.

I practiced a couple of times while my friend explained everything to me. Hands on the vertical bars, eyes on the horizon, hips forward, breathe. It was quickly getting very real. I was beginning to wonder if I’d actually enjoy the experience.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” I breathed, completely unsure of my answer.

We walked the big walk. That stretch from the stairs to the exit point. The one that is long when you begin the sport because of the anxiety, and long when you’ve jumped it a hundred times because of the, well, anxiety. Blondie followed, snapping pictures. I’m sure I asked questions of my friend to break the silence, but I can’t for the life of me remember what they may have been. The walk seemed like it would never end, and there was at least a small part of me deep inside that kinda hoped it wouldn’t.

Then we were there, middle of the bridge, over the Snake River, very little wind, looking over the edge. Between the uncharacteristically few cars on the bridge, it was almost silent. That was a very big emptiness from where I stood to the river below. I had butterflies the size of vultures.

He went over the flight pattern again. He pointed down the river, pointed out landmarks, pointed out Jamie’s flag that served as a wind indicator. He covered the big issues. Dropped toggles, line twists (however unlikely), most things that had a reasonable reality of occurring. And then it was time.

“Yeah ready?”

“yeah.”

I grabbed Blondie and gave her a long kiss.

“Have fun baby! I’m so excited!” She said.

“I love you. Be right back.” I told her.

I still kiss her and say that before every jump. Always last. Even after I hug and kiss all the kids if they happen to be there, although, BASE has become routine for them. The coolness rubbed off a long time ago.

My buddy grabbed my pilot chute and configured the bridle for a PCA. A PCA is a pilot chute assisted jump. A living static line basically. Someone holds your pilot chute and bridle when you exit. They essentially pull your parachute out before releasing the bridle/pilot chute. It takes away the need for adequate airspeed to transfer into pilot chute pull force. Most BASE jumpers made their first jump this way.

When he had everything addressed to his liking, he looked at me. “Ready when you are.”

“OK.”

I turned to the rail and put my hands on top. I took a very deep breath and let it out. Then I climbed over. I made a conscious effort to focus my vision on the railing, and the ledge - anything but the void directly beneath me.

I wiggled my way into some semblance of position facing away from the bridge. I was hunched over and as rigid as steel.

“Stand up straight. Head high and eyes on the horizon.” I was told.

I stood up straight and the weight of my body on my hands lessened. My ghetto booty was no longer jammed into the railing either. This was fairly comfortable. Nice.

“PC is clear, so whenever you’re ready.”

What? You mean I have to decide when to go? What the hell man?

I looked down.

Wow.

What the fuck am I doing? I better like this.

I looked to the horizon.

“Three…”

“Two…”

“One…”

“See-ya.”

I pushed off.

Silence. Nothing at all.

My face, in fact my entire head, was suddenly burning. Minutes turned into hours.

Then the bottom fell out.

When my brain realized I was falling, accelerating rapidly, my senses began to work again. The walls of the canyon blurred. The superstructure of the bridge began to rush towards me. Things began to happen very fast.

There was a screaming in my head. Not an actual sound, but the demonic shrieking that accompanies mortal fear, which in turn accompanies a loss of control.

I was no longer in control of anything. I needed a parachute or I would die, no matter what I did.

I didn’t notice any opening shock, but I remember the sound. There is no equivalent sound in existence - nylon fabric inflating and coming under the strain of perfectly rationed suspension lines. Everything slowed down. There was a parachute over my head. Hey! I know what to do with one of those!

I grabbed the toggles from the Velcro and began flying. Suddenly the experience became one that I controlled. I love flight, and the view was spectacular. I flew up the river until I felt I could turn base/final right to the flag. It was experienced muscle memory that made it so easy. And the reason skydiving is almost universally considered a prerequisite to BASE jumping.

I carved a sweet, and perfectly judged circle over the trees to final. I flared and stood it up about 10 feet from Jamie’s flag. The only sound was that faithful nylon, softly collapsing on the ground behind me, its burden shed.

I was smiling so hard my face hurt. I looked up at the bridge.

“Woo-hoo!” I heard Blondie yell.

I’d done it. I had made a BASE jump.

The guy who had just introduced me to the sport climbed over and jumped. He landed right next to me, walked over and gave me a hug.

“Welcome to BASE.”

The guys helping Tom, and Tom’s student all jumped while we were packing our rigs up. One at a time, they came over and gave me a hug. “Nice jump! Welcome to BASE.” I was suddenly a part of something special.

We climbed up the side of the canyon having all sorts of discussions. Mostly guys asked me things about me. They were feeling me out. They wanted to know who this new guy was, incase I stuck around.

When we arrived at the top, we walked over to the packing area. Blondie was there. She gave me a huge hug. “How was it?!?” She asked.

“It was awesome. That was so fun.”

Tom walked over. “Hey, why don’t you guys come by the house tonight? All these guys will be there.”

“Sure! What do I need to bring?”

“Whatever you’re drinking. We’re eating tri-tip.”

Naturally, I picked up a fifth of Patron Silver - the elixir of the Gods of war and debauchery. Blondie and I arrived at Tom’s house, met his wonderful wife, and had a fantastic dinner. The characters we met there were one of a kind, especially this noisy fellow named Abbie. At one point (after the Patron was gone) he managed to convince another jumper that he could remove a cyst from his arm by smashing it with a big-assed book. I hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time.

Fucking BASE jumpers. I liked these odd people. They’re like brain-damaged Jarheads. Yeah, I might stick around. ]]> Para_Frog http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/para_frog/19-newbie-chronicles-my-first-year-base-part-two-february.html remember what Jack Burton always said... http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/18-remember-what-jack-burton-always-said.html Sat, 04 Apr 2009 01:42:42 GMT This Friday is watching "Big Trouble in Little China", and I could not help but love the memorable quotes:

Quote:
Jack Burton:
When some wild-eyed, eight-foot-tall maniac grabs your neck, taps the back of your favorite head up against the barroom wall, and he looks you crooked in the eye and he asks you if ya paid your dues, you just stare that big sucker right back in the eye, and you remember what ol' Jack Burton always says at a time like that: "Have ya paid your dues, Jack?" "Yessir, the check is in the mail."
then...

Quote:
Jack Burton: You know what ol' Jack Burton always says at a time like this?
Thunder: Who?
Jack Burton: Jack Burton. *Me*!
Quote:
Jack Burton: Well, ya see, I'm not saying that I've been everywhere and I've done everything, but I do know it's a pretty amazing planet we live on here, and a man would have to be some kind of FOOL to think we're alone in THIS universe.
Quote:
Jack Burton: Just remember what ol' Jack Burton does when the earth quakes, and the poison arrows fall from the sky, and the pillars of Heaven shake. Yeah, Jack Burton just looks that big ol' storm right square in the eye and he says, "Give me your best shot, pal. I can take it."
and one of my favorites
Quote:
Jack Burton: This is Jack Burton in the Pork Chop Express, and I'm talkin' to whoever's listenin' out there.

the end... ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/18-remember-what-jack-burton-always-said.html Bitch slap those parents! http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/17-bitch-slap-those-parents.html Sat, 04 Apr 2009 01:14:26 GMT While I am on a roll....Yesterday, during a sunny 70 degree day, around 12:00pm (lunch time), I am driving home, then 40 mph through a GREEN fucking light.... and some lady, not even waving or anything, casually strolls through the intersection with her 6-9 year old daughter. Luckily, I am a very... While I am on a roll....Yesterday, during a sunny 70 degree day, around 12:00pm (lunch time), I am driving home, then 40 mph through a GREEN fucking light.... and some lady, not even waving or anything, casually strolls through the intersection with her 6-9 year old daughter. Luckily, I am a very intelligent person that is paying attention to the world, as I still slammed on my brakes. could not have been more than 10 feet away from them both. i mean really, should we enforce a minimum IQ to have kids, and to tend to them? What an ignorant woman just carrying a child AGAINST the light! I am just appalled at the complete stupidity of many parents I see in society.

Lets rag on the next people that should have their kids taken away...I saw another woman at the mall, will a 4-pack stroller, guess what... running against the flow of traffic with the stroller at the mall.....Not only that, the woman was smoking like like a chimney! She then sat a couple of feet away from the door, to finish her compulsion with the children breathing the smoke.

First off, how stupid are you to smoke where your children are effected? If you are that stupid, why should you ever be allowed to have children?

Not only that, The sign clearly reads, no smoking within 25 feet of the door, and basic math like that, should be a basic requirement to have children as well.
If you can NOT count to 25, you should NEVER have children! They will only count have as well as you, and that is not much apparently....

And anyone that thinks that smoking above a 1 year old in your stroller is ever ok, let me suggest you just give them the cigarette now and speed up the process....

Luckily, most of the people I am bitching about do not even know how to spell COMPUTER, let alone, know how to use one. But our society is filled with ignorant people that seem to be using the "stupid" plea to get by in life, but effecting many oter poeple, including their own children in the porcess...

instead of spending $Trillion on fat bankers, spend it upos child and educational reform. Make things harder for the lazy... Not just Rich lay, but also poor lazy.... There are millions out there....

and i'm spent.... ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/17-bitch-slap-those-parents.html Remembering times that past... http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/16-remembering-times-past.html Sat, 04 Apr 2009 00:58:58 GMT Remembering times that past... I have not blogged her in a while. Well, it has been a long winter in Pittsburgh PA, and a roller coaster ride during this terrible economy. Even though, I must say, I am doing as well as ever. I have FedEx, Motorola, and JP Morgan Chase as clients, and I am... Remembering times that past...

I have not blogged her in a while. Well, it has been a long winter in Pittsburgh PA, and a roller coaster ride during this terrible economy.

Even though, I must say, I am doing as well as ever. I have FedEx, Motorola, and JP Morgan Chase as clients, and I am completely booked with my time.

More on that later.

As I have been here, I have reflected on most everything in my life, as everything seems to be dramatic at this point. Then I started thinking....I am 38 now, an embarking upon another summer. What was I doing when I was 28 embarking upon summer...?

So I started thinking, I am loosing sight of so many things in my history. In the olden days, say 100 years ago, people would create diaries to keep such events, but they would always be short stories about their life. Now I imagine the power to log monthly, weekly or even daily events via a Blog. Now imaging my family get to recount my life 100 years from now via this medium?

Really, wouldn't I love to remember all the one-off trips, and excursions running from the cops jumping off some bridge? Or what about the time I hid in a water filled ditch jumping off some antenna for several hours? Or what about the ice covered tower in Michigan in winter, that is still having me say... Fuck that was cold. Why was I doing this?.....

But I say I am always busy, and trust me, in the in-famous words of "Kim Jon IL", from Team America..."Do you have any idea how FUCKING busy I am...?"

But seriously, I would love to continue to post blogs about the life I lead, and the pursuit, of what ever comes next....

Mick...

btw, as a side not to my life, I am now totally fucking remote hacking. I helped Collen hack PHP and Random CSS over Meebo Instant Messenger. Obviously, I do not need to be loged into your computer to be hacking ...LOL

Mick

The end... ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/16-remembering-times-past.html <![CDATA[The Newbie Chronicles - My first year in BASE - Part One: "The" Harvey]]> http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/para_frog/15-newbie-chronicles-my-first-year-base-part-one-harvey.html Thu, 12 Mar 2009 19:53:38 GMT The Newbie Chronicles – My first year in BASE

My name is Chris Harvey. I have no need for anonymity. As a former cop, I know that that the objects I have jumped that could be considered in the ether of the legal gray area are in places where the cops have better shit to do than track me down. I also don’t do repeats within at least several months of each other. It’s called keeping objects cold. You paying attention Dave? I don’t jump NPS land – which is another story completely. Although before I leave this Earth, and if we haven’t managed legal access by then, I do intend to jump El Capitan – buck naked down to my boots – with a very loud hidey-ho and a bakalaka before I jump. I’ll take my licks.

I’m a 38 year-old Cavalry Officer in the US Army, and a former US Marine, who is fortunate enough to have married his best friend after several attempts at marriage that failed for any number of reasons. I have a young daughter and six, yes six, fantastic step-kids whom I love as my very own - three girls and three boys.

I am their rock star.

I am a BASE jumper.


Part One – “The” Harvey

BASE is more of an enigma than just about any other thing in this world. It really is. It is, on its surface, unquestionably the most selfish human endeavor outside of suicide. Until you have actually studied the science behind BASE jumping, and developed an understanding of the calculated and comprehensive risk management involved, you will never shed that empirical view of the sport. It’s hard-wired in our nature and how most people will always view it. To expect anyone outside the sport to understand it as more is unreasonable. It is that dearth of cerebral connection that causes us to coalesce into the rag-tag band of misfits that we are. Only BASE jumpers understand BASE jumpers.

Before I can begin a monologue about my entry into the sport that has come to capture and qualify a great many aspects of my deeper self, I must impart a developmental history, a baseline if you will, upon which BASE 1232 came to be. BASE jumpers might see it and completely understand the journey. Aspiring BASE jumpers might see it as a vague parallel to their own journey of self-exploration. Non-BASE jumpers or, to borrow a term from our whiney sister sport of skydiving, whuffos, might view it as vanity or a misguided channel for more deep-seated psychological issues. Not to be exclusive, but as for the opinion of that last group, I have complete apathy. Your willingness to cross the hurdles to arrive at, and execute, that first fixed-object parachute jump is your ticket to me ever giving a minute of my consideration to your opinion of what we do. It is the prerogative of any strong-willed and confident person not to give a shit. I don’t. This story, which for posterity reasons is written as if you were the audience, is not for you.

I grew up in the southern California town of Santa Clarita, an affluent Los Angeles suburb. I say affluent, because for the most part it is, but I grew up in the white trash and Hispanic 'hood. I have very modest roots. I have a very loving family and had a wonderful upbringing. My mother petitioned the school boards to have my two older brothers and me transferred out of the substandard local schools to the rich kid schools a mere half hour away. Her actions in that regard were really our deliverance from the 'hood. I wore preppy collared LaCoste knock-offs to school and changed into scrapping clothes when I got home. Because there was always scrapping. We ended up all being very highly educated. One brother works for NASA, and one is a high school principal. Not bad for poor-assed white kids in the 'hood.

Dad was a former US Marine pilot, but very unlike the Great Santini; he’s just a good guy. Dad’s firm – three boys after all - but loving. Not stereotypical by any measure. From a very early age I recognized one source of pride for Dad that never wavered. It was his time in the Marine Corps. Any outfit that made my dad that happy to reminisce about must be the place to be. So at about six years-old, I decided I would be a Marine.

The one luxury we had as a family and wouldn’t part with no matter how bad things got was Miss J. A 1963-ish Piper Cherokee 140, tail number N7364J. (That was completely from memory – I haven’t been around Miss J for about 25 years). Dad bought her when he was part of the Apollo program at NASA – his professional glory years to which he never managed to return. Dad dragged us to air shows all the time. I quickly fell in love with flight. At the Point Mugu Naval Air Station Air Show, circa 1978, I saw a group of skydivers jump out of a helicopter trailing smoke. Holy shit, I thought in equivalent seven year-old words (or perhaps verbatim – I was a tool), they’re just falling – flying even; I will do that some day.

The desire to be a Marine never changed, so in the spring of 1988, having reached the omniscient age of 17 years, 6 months, I convinced my mother to sign a release allowing me to enlist in the Marine Corps. My ship date was three weeks prior to high school graduation, so I had to petition my teachers to allow me to take finals early. I was exceptional academically, and a pain in the ass behaviorally; they immediately agreed and I was off to learn how to properly kill people and break things. I would be a Lance Corporal and in a Marine Reconnaissance unit before my 18th birthday.

I will spare the time to explain what Marine Reconnaissance actually is – there’s a Wikipedia entry about it that’s really quite good – but I will explain the moniker I’ve come to use on the internet forums frequented by BASE jumpers. Recon Marines require specialized training in clandestine combat insertion techniques. These include parachute and SCUBA. Once Recon Marines complete Airborne and SCUBA training, they are called ParaFrog Devil Dogs, (military occupational specialty 8654). A reference to Airborne training, SCUBA training (frogmen), and a rough translation of the name given to US Marines by the German Army at the battle of Belleau Wood in 1918 – Teufelshunde, or Dog’s from Hell. It immediately became a badge of honor to US Marines, and remains so. I am but one of thousands of ParaFrogs, even several who BASE jump…I earned the name as they did, so I use it.

I was a noisy and brash young Marine, just as I had been as a teenager. I had something to prove to the world in general. I wanted to be a badass, and simply becoming a Marine had not been enough. I ran off at the mouth about wanting to be the first kid on my block with a confirmed kill.

This brings me to Karma.

Karma can be a bitch - a nasty, evil, ugly, worthless creature. Especially when provoked.

In 1990, the delicate Karmic balance in the universe was violently upset by a 20 year-old kid who just wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

We left Cherry Point Naval Air Station on Christmas Eve, 1990, on a chartered PanAm 747. On the flight across the Pacific, the Pilot came on and read a poem from his wife – written to all of the baby-faced Marines in the back. She spoke of the impending battle, of our families at home, of her gratitude. She brought words to our suppressed, but very real fears. We looked tough, but we were scared shitless. The airplane was silent. The flight attendants wept. What the hell have I gotten myself into? We landed in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia just after midnight on the 26th. With the rapid travel across time zones, Christmas that year had simply not existed. It was surreal.

My experience in Desert Storm was the defining moment of my life. It was wonderful, it was terrible, I laughed, I sobbed, I killed, I lost…it was above all things - destiny. I was compelled to write a book about it; a novel for the sake of avoiding intelligence missteps, but very true in its use of events. The book is an homage to the men I fought with. They were the finest men I have ever known. Some never came home. For that reason – I recommend reading it. It's called The Kirya Solution, and at this point in its print life - the royalties are negligible to me. In a very tangible way, as I will attempt to explain in Part Two of this series, they brought me to BASE jumping. Bear with me when we get there – it is an attempt.

After the war is when I actually began jumping. My first parachute jump was in October of 1991 at the US Army Airborne School, Fort Benning Georgia. The following summer, I found a drop zone and started skydiving. Yup, I’ve been skydiving since 1992. A guy I jumped with back then mentioned BASE jumping to me. He wanted to try it, and wanted me to come along. I simply never got around to it, but after a balloon jump from Burner’s rig at Eloy in 1993, I knew I had to. I saw a segment on TV with Mo Viletto, Tom Sanders, Jan Davis, and a mustachioed guy I probably should recognize but don’t jumping from an antenna in Maine. I also saw the endless parade of videos from the first “look at me” guy – John Vincent. Yeah – I need to do THAT. The pilot light had been lit. Once again, however, Karma had other plans. I finished my tour in the Corps, got out for a while to be a cop, got married a few times to people who didn’t get the whole skydiving thing, and was miserable there for a while. I was being repaid for the sins of my youth.

Then some asshats decided to fly a couple of planes into some buildings because they didn’t like what I had sworn to protect. In the institutional vernacular of a Colorado BASE jumper I know to be an evil genius – Epic Fail. I became angry. I heard a line in a movie recently, which summed it up nicely – “I have a particular set of skills.” Yeah. It was time to go on a killing. I wanted to be an officer this time around, I felt as if I had sacrificed a great deal to become educated. I didn’t want my talent for bloodletting squandered under some 22-year-old Lieutenant who didn’t know shit. I called the Marine Corps. What the hell do you mean I’m TOO old? Yeah, they would be glad to take a guy they’d spent a couple of million dollars to train into an 8654, but they would take me as a friggin Corporal. I had gotten out a Sergeant – that’s a rank above, and still a non-commissioned officer. Semper Fi Mack – now blow me.

I sashayed into the Army National Guard recruiting office in Boise Idaho. Oh yeah, I moved from Austin, Texas, where I was a cop, to Boise, Idaho. A story for another time, Karma was turning in the right direction for me; part of her change in my fortune was putting me an hour and a half from the Perrine Bridge.

I plopped down my Service Record Book from the Marine Corps on the desk of SSG Joe Lammers. “I’d like to be an officer.”

SSG Lammers flipped through some pages. “What are these schools that are blacked out?”

I told him. Nothing classified about them anymore. I was out.

His eyes grew big. He threw in a chew. “When can you start?”

About nine months later, I graduated Officer Candidate School. On the flight back from SeaTac Airport, A gorgeous blonde with whom I’d struck up a conversation prior to boarding told the newly anointed officer next to me to get the hell out of his seat. She was taking it. He complied immediately, moving to hers a few rows up. It was Friday the 13th, and the woman of my dreams had just taken an exceptionally bold first step to ensure that I never left her life.

She came to be known as The Blondie, and as Mrs. Harvey. She lived in Twin Falls. When I first went to visit her, the Karmic circle, and my entry into BASE was that much closer.

Continued in Part Two: February

As anyone with a rudimentary understanding of copyright law knows, as soon as I put this to paper – which I did prior to this posting – it became copyrighted. I don’t need to attach disclaimers at the bottom. ]]> Para_Frog http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/para_frog/15-newbie-chronicles-my-first-year-base-part-one-harvey.html Friday the 13th ....!!! http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/14-friday-13th.html Sat, 14 Feb 2009 03:05:01 GMT Today, seems to be the first time I can actually remember that is actually "Friday the 13th".

Interestingly enough, the hailed dooms-day of bad fortune, has not taken any toll, nor delivered any redemption. I merely have focus and personal drive to direct an otherwise lost point horizon.

I would actually guess that my only remorse for today, would be that I started reading a book about life-long memory. It talks about TECH chatter as being bad, and leading to many issues including Alzheimer disease.

I mean really!!!! I get the greatest satisfaction I could ever imagine (in a career at least), by "Thinking Up Shit" (quoting Bruce)... But today I read (true or not) that tech chatter can be detrimental to lifelong mental stamina.

OK, YES, i would LOVE to have mental focus at age 100!!!!!!!. you better FUCKING believe it! So what am I to do about a stimulation that gives me focus, and YES pleasure, as a detriment to lengthy mental focus? Well, I must say, this is a mid-life crisis WORTH contemplation.

"Life is visceral, rather than intellectual!..."

I could NOT be torn by two conflicting and complementing presence...

"...we are reaching a period when our senses and minds will no longer respond to moderate stimulation..."


I see that my current frustration, can not succumb to the standard "week long vacation", or family outing...At this point, only excess will overcome excess.

"Too much work, requires Too much Play... You must have the stamina to withstand the Ebb and flows of life.."

If I am to be penalized physically, for my drive mentally, than I will no longer hold true that which is obviously not waiting for me later. and I plan to live viscerally from now on, which seems the only control I have. Control over the "NOW". Nothing more... ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/14-friday-13th.html Six-Pack Steelers... http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/13-six-pack-steelers.html Mon, 02 Feb 2009 04:42:58 GMT In 2002, I was already on a project in Salt Lake City Utah and present for the 2002 Olympics. I felt lucky to be witness to such an occasion. Today, I again feel lucky to witness the Pittsburgh Steelers winning a 6th Super Bowl Title. I am in awe of the commune the fans have and can definitely feel... In 2002, I was already on a project in Salt Lake City Utah and present for the 2002 Olympics. I felt lucky to be witness to such an occasion. Today, I again feel lucky to witness the Pittsburgh Steelers winning a 6th Super Bowl Title. I am in awe of the commune the fans have and can definitely feel the energy in the air.

I can not wait to see the actual result Monday morning in the office. ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/13-six-pack-steelers.html New family, or ignorant role model http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/12-new-family-ignorant-role-model.html Sun, 01 Feb 2009 01:01:07 GMT I was watching news today, and noticed a special about a woman that just had 8 children. She had already had 6 children prior to this birth.

When CNBC was going through its TWITTER responses, most of the people keep talking about how "Its her choice" and "It's America, she can do what she wants"....

I can't help but yell: "ARE YOU TOTALLY FUCKING STUPID OR WHAT?????". Trust me, I expect to get some harsh feedback for this, but I have plenty of experience with my point I actually want to make. Think NOT about the choice that a smart, financially stable person can make. Think instead, of the underprivileged, under-educated population that makes up over 80% of the world population. A TWEET mentioned "This is not China", but what is wrong with responsible population control?

Why the FUCK would anyone want to have 14 children? I think and even better question is how does someone get so completely blinded by anything to want to be a role model to a woman in a 3rd world country that having mass children is OK?

80% of the people having children can barely, if not at all, afford those children. This means that stories like this, and Angelia and Brad's rat pack, is not the ultimate result of RICH people who can afford this. It becomes a clouded goal of iconic proportion that the underclass uses as their view of HOPE based on the role models they see plastered across the world's media in all ways.

What can be done: STOP idolizing the role of having mass children. We do not need to continually increasing population by a magnitude of 3, 5, or 8 times. Show the millions of people in all the 3rd word countries that proper family choices should be made, or we will continue to have mass population increases, mass child deaths, birth defects, and millions of additional refugees that the world will have to care for when they are displaced, and have little or no abilities and skills to offer to this global civilization. ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/12-new-family-ignorant-role-model.html Walking down the centerline http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/11-walking-down-centerline.html Fri, 30 Jan 2009 13:30:02 GMT For way too long, I keep asking myself: "Why do ignorant people think they are cars?"

Every time I go to the store, a shop, or even to the Arena to see a show, inevitably there are several people walking in the middle of the road. They are just waddling along not paying attention to anything in the world. Then after about 200', they finally glance behind them to notice "Oh My, there is a car behind me!" And the stupidity is passed down to the children that they are walking with. Really, is it more than common sense to get the fuck out of the road.

At least that is what I was taught growing up. This IMHO, is the result of a government protecting people from themselves. But in reality, if you are ignorant enough, which way too many people are, you will find some way to hurt or kill yourself.

I guess I am just appalled by the lack of awareness by so many people. So in final thoughts:
  1. unless you are running on 2 or more tires, more your ass OUT of the road.
  2. Wake up and pay attention to the world around you. Maybe there is actually something productive you could offer, instead of just taking up space and pissing everyone else off by getting in the way.

Enough rambling. It is 20* outside and snowing so off I go for a nice drive. ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/11-walking-down-centerline.html Adverture in Eagles territory... http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/10-adverture-eagles-territory.html Mon, 19 Jan 2009 02:11:04 GMT I created a blog the other day, http://blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs...adventure.html, this talked about my adventure to Philly to See Metallica o January 17th, 2009.

I got to the ALoft Sheridan Hotel at the PHL Airport, and 1st off, BOOK your Philly trip there! It was awesome!

I spent a good deal of Saturday working on a Java class I teach, and the rest of my time trying to secure tickets to the show. I did not find any. But I did find 2 guys getting a cab that I shared or $10 to the show. Then the 1st ticket guy I saw, said he had section 112 (almost center), but might be row 20+. So I said let me see the seats. He ran to get the single ticket, and returned with 112 row 9...... FUCK YES! Center row 9. Each PYRO explosions was burning my face. Seriously!

I can tell you after seeing Metallica in 1985 for Ride the lightening, then And Justice for All, then Black Album twice..... They keep getting better!

Aside from the 1.75 hour wait outside in 19 degree weather for the cab, everything was EPIC!

ps, I was in AWE of James, bringing his daughter out on stage half-way for the entire arena to sing "Happy Birthday". It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/10-adverture-eagles-territory.html <![CDATA[I can't believe how cold I am...]]> http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/9-i-cant-believe-how-cold-i-am.html Sat, 17 Jan 2009 03:02:18 GMT OK, so I woke this morning, and it was -22 degrees with windchill. ARE YOU KIDDING???? And Pittsburgh did not get the worst of it. I hear it gets worse by -10 to -40 degrees below. I step out the house this morning to warm up the car. At first, seems like no big deal. Then as I am running... OK, so I woke this morning, and it was -22 degrees with windchill. ARE YOU KIDDING????

And Pittsburgh did not get the worst of it. I hear it gets worse by -10 to -40 degrees below.

I step out the house this morning to warm up the car. At first, seems like no big deal. Then as I am running around the car scraping ice off, the burning sting sets in.

I run back inside for shelter. saved.....

right.

Next time, I get all my warm gear back on, then my headphones to give me a break for the freezing silence of 6:00 am. When I finally get into the car and close the door, after about 15-20 seconds, I see my headphone cables are stiff as a board. WHAT? They will not go under the seat belt. You have got to be kidding!

I drive to work and feel numb the entire 20 minute drive and the car never gets above (C) Cold. Then I have a good 100 yard walk to get into the building. The first thing I notice is the burning smell of cold air, along with the blinding wind of "Go Back Home Now"!

While thinking of writing this, many thing went through my mind. But the most prominent was thinking "How on earth, could our fore fathers, 100-300 years ago carry on life, and several wars in these conditions."? If they had to go through anything close to this, i am in AWE!

But I also can't help but wonder how the people that have lived here their whole lives just don't mind such a climate.
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]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/9-i-cant-believe-how-cold-i-am.html a Metallica Adventure http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/8-metallica-adventure.html Sat, 17 Jan 2009 02:46:38 GMT I have been an Metallica fan since 1985 when a band mate, taught me 'Seek and Destroy' that I never heard before then. The same year I saw Metallica for the 'Ride the lightening' tour in Houston Texas. This was my 3rd or fourth concert ever. Iron Maiden was my first concert btw... :-O

My wife is a commercial pilot, so I get to fly for next to free anywhere, anytime. This come in handy when I am traveling for work, but until now, have never used it for any strange adventures.... (i know, I know....)


OK, so I woke up this morning in Pittsburgh PA and it was -22 with windchill. WTF! Not only am I away from home, I am freaking out about the cold. Michelle is also not able to get time off to rendezvous with me in SF as she is working in Honolulu. (yes, I know, I know....).

So I start Googling during my work day, and HEY! I have a weekend stuck in PA with -22 degree weather, and Metallica is Playing a SOLD OUT show in Philledelphia PA.

I immediately start looking into the situation.

I find there are many scalped tickets out there.

I say, what-the-hell!!!!!
I go to priceline.com and get a threee star hotel @ the airport for $50. Shuttle from airport to Wachovia Center is $12 and the concert ticket.... Well, not sure yet.

But never the less, I am running on a shoe-string to take a one day flight to Philly just to see and band, and what ever else happens.

* ps, i already have prospect on a Burning Man Party in NYC the same night that I am thinking og flying to after Metallica #-)

I guess nothing could be funer than truely living out of a backpack to just see the moment. ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/8-metallica-adventure.html American cars in the future... http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/7-american-cars-future.html Tue, 13 Jan 2009 03:05:32 GMT So I am watching CNBC about an interview with the CEO of GM. They talk about "It is not easy to restructure a company that has been around for 100 years, in just 10 years".... Are you F***ing kidding me? Seriously!

I have been in the IT industry for 19 years and have restructured at least 5 times in that term.

Look at Trump, Virgin Airlines, Bank of America.

I am so fed-up with million dollar CEO's talking shit about how "I can change, I can change!"... Wait a minute, That is the Saddam Hussein 'i can change' theme proposing to FUCK Satan.....

Now I am hearing in the series, that the "Camero" is white night for GM that will single handedly is going to save GM.

Did I just hear a hipocritical blunder of total studidity abou the world we had today?

I feel like saddened that I live in a country that supports complete glutany to empower companies like Enron, GM, Chevy, IndyMac... I will stop, as this BloG does not need to be that drawn out. ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/7-american-cars-future.html Steelers fans.. http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/6-steelers-fans.html Fri, 09 Jan 2009 00:13:42 GMT I saw a quote many years back comparing the homosexual community in San Francisco to the Obsessive Steelers fans of Pittsburgh.

The quote was "Steelers fans can be compared to a heterosexual San Francisco.".

Today, on the 'United Way' Friday, I had a glimpse. I noticed that one in ten persons wore a Steelers shirt for their casual Friday dress. Now out of about 3,500 employees, that was quite proponent.

I just thought it was un-mistakable, the overwhelming dedication to the home town sport team that I have never encountered in my life. ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/6-steelers-fans.html Stairs or elevator? http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/5-stairs-elevator.html Fri, 09 Jan 2009 00:08:58 GMT I have been living in SF since 1990. I just recently moved to Pittsburgh PA for a 6-month contract. The first thing I noticed was, in general, a tendency to be lazy by most people. The most prominent example was the reason for this post in the first place. I work at a 3 story building. There... I have been living in SF since 1990. I just recently moved to Pittsburgh PA for a 6-month contract.

The first thing I noticed was, in general, a tendency to be lazy by most people. The most prominent example was the reason for this post in the first place.

I work at a 3 story building. There is a large lobby and there are stairs in the center of the lobby. Quick obtrusive actually. I have to walk another 10 steps to get to the elevator to get up to another level. I work on the 2nd level. Now I am just dumbfounded by all the obese persons that will not walk 1 flight of stairs. Then I hear them in the hallway complaining about how their medical coverage did not help their bla, bla, bla issue.

I mean really! Why are so many people so lazy?

I bet they would loose more weight taking the stairs than on Jenny Craig. ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/5-stairs-elevator.html The beginning of my ramble http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/4-beginning-my-ramble.html Wed, 07 Jan 2009 02:30:34 GMT So I have been contemplating the start of a personal BLOG for some time now. I have finally decided that I have to much pent-up anger, emotion and controversy to keep this to myself. So what better forum to post my thoughts than BLiNC Magazine...? I mean really. All we stand for is... So I have been contemplating the start of a personal BLOG for some time now. I have finally decided that I have to much pent-up anger, emotion and controversy to keep this to myself.

So what better forum to post my thoughts than BLiNC Magazine...?

I mean really. All we stand for is indifference! Right?

The real reason I want to blog here is just to be able to vent my viewpoints about life that happens. ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/4-beginning-my-ramble.html Finding new friends to jump with...Part 2 http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/3-finding-new-friends-jump-part-2.html Fri, 07 Dec 2007 02:58:51 GMT Finding new friends to jump with...Part 2

The forum was running for almost a year and I started noticing that people where joining from all over the country. They where meeting here on BLiNC, contacting each other then would start traveling to jump in more and more locations. I thought this was a great use of BLiNC.

Then one week I got sent from SF to Indianapolis for a 2 week project. So i thought I would put my first post about travelling on BLiNC on the Tuesday after I flew in. I got a call about an hour after I posted this. I though HOLY-CRAP! that was fast.

'Some Guy' named Joe W. asked if I was ready to jump? I said, I don't have a rig with me. He said, "that is not what I asked because I have a brand new rig with zero jumps that you can use!".
Hell yes I am ready. So he gave me an address that I had to mapquest (as i did not know my way around Indianapolis) to pick up the rig ahead of time and repack, and to get to the jump site.

I pulled up at the jump site around 10:30pm in an empty parking lot downtown with a large white utility van sitting there. I pulled up and Joe and Bruce jumped out. Joe said "welcome to indy: look up". I was looking at the building we where about to jump.

He told me the 5 minute plan.
  1. Walk in
  2. get in elevator
  3. ditch into access door next to elevator exit.
  4. gear up in stair well
  5. open door
  6. GET THE HELL OFF!
  7. Get away!
Sounds easy, but could never be 5 minutes... Ya right! (pretty close)

We walked in, staight to the elevators, up to the top floor. When we got out, the host was at her post, so we ditched into the bathroom just next to the elevator.
We waited for maybe 2 minutes. Then joe said "lets walk out, if she is gone, ditch into the stair well across from this bathroom."

So we walked out, the lady wass gone, we go toward the door, and the waiter door just next to it opened!!!! HOLY #%%$^!
LUCKY: THe waiter was full of plates, walked the other direction, and we where in the stair well for the roof access!

Now we had to quickly gear up before we opened the door as there was an alarm on the room door. So we geared up fast! Then, Joe said "on the count of 3, i am going to open the door, the turn right. The edge is 10 feet way. Get on the edge and we need to get off here BAM, BAM, BAM!".

3, 2, 1.... open, We get out, Me in the middle, then Bruce to my right, joe to my left. This is all of about 10 total minutes after leaving the van. I was way amped up! Joe said to me "your our guest here, you go first...". I was so amped, I said %#&$* that! its your building, You go first. (gotta laugh now).

So Bruce pulls a short delay off, then after about 6-10 seconds later, I was up.... I knew we where is a serious time crunch, so I said what the hell. Got off, into a great position, but only took about a 2 second delay which was enough for me then.

Great on-heading opening. I went up to grab my toggles (looking a bit behind me) and whoosh-BAM......! #&&$%@ Joe delays past me with a least a solid 4, opens and lands almost even with Bruce.

Get to the ground, get picked up, and we where off without anyone else knowing...

I was a true believer of meeting new friends on BLiNC.

Joe has been one of the best friends in my life, and was even my Best Man at my wedding.


part1:
http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/2-how-all-began-part-1.html ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/3-finding-new-friends-jump-part-2.html How it all began....Part 1 http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/2-how-all-began-part-1.html Fri, 07 Dec 2007 02:44:04 GMT The question keeps coming up "How did BLiNC" start?

Well, this is quite a long story, so I will BBLoG this in phases....

A long, long time ago (1994)....

I had been trying to use my new found Internet programming knowledge on a real world application, not just a well formatted resume. Up to that point, there was very little in world of the Internet. And prior to that, I was a distributed control system developer (DCS) in refineries in Houston Texas, then in LA, and SF.

At this point I had been BASE Jumping for 2 years under the wing of Adam P. of Consolidated Rigging.

In the Spring of 1994, I kept hearing about "Bridge Day" and how I could finally get to jump with other people and start to really share some knowledge about the sport. But then I started thinking, I want to be able to get more out of the sport more often that just Bridge Day once a year.

The light bulb went off! I could create a way to talk to other similar to nntp news readers and IRC chat. I started hacking on such a way to do this. Obviously it was just me for about a month while I was hacking away. Then on a nightly base expedition, I ran into Harry Parker and Dennis McGlenn. I was excited about the potential prospect, and told them about it. The loved the idea and wanted to see more. So I spent a great deal of my time that Spring and Summer hacking away at it. Back then, Google did not exist. So I had to call and email people to ask them to come check out the page.

I was actually surprised at the speed in which I started getting more and more hits and posts. I say it honestly started in July 1994 because that was about the time I started calling and really announcing this page.

Notice I never called it the base board yet....

Well, I found putting in 40-50 hours per week after my regular full-time job was just too much for the momentum I think I needed. Luckily, the same time I was hacking away, so way another Net guy creating WWWBoard! Perfect!

I could just kick start my forum there. So I implemented it. But it FORCED me to create a variable with a forum "Title". I could not leave this thing blank...... What to call it.....???? The default was "The WWWBoard".

I was impatient, and wanted to get to the real work! So I called it "The BASE Board".

So the name begins.....

Part 2... ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/2-how-all-began-part-1.html Welcome to the new BLiNC Magazine BBLOG System http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/1-welcome-new-blinc-magazine-bblog-system.html Sat, 01 Dec 2007 16:15:33 GMT I decided to go ahead and get the Blog plug-in for the forum. I have been going back-and-forth on it, but decided to do it. I also plan to give a few select publishers their own Blog. In addition to that, the moderators will have a Blog. I then plan to only allow BLiNC supporters to have a... I decided to go ahead and get the Blog plug-in for the forum. I have been going back-and-forth on it, but decided to do it.

I also plan to give a few select publishers their own Blog. In addition to that, the moderators will have a Blog.

I then plan to only allow BLiNC supporters to have a Blog, not just anyone. This is for 2 reasons.
  1. BLiNC costs considerable time and money. So I would like to foster a sense of community involvement and help. It will be appreciated.
  2. SPAM! If I allow just anyone to have a Blog, the Spam will quickly and easily get overrun with spam. Not a good idea.
I hope everyone likes the new forum, new BBlog, and new server! ]]> mknutson http://www.blincmagazine.com/forum/blogs/mknutson/1-welcome-new-blinc-magazine-bblog-system.html