Parachuting out of an airplane

Michael In search of ever new, more exciting newsletter topics, your intrepid reporter Michael sometimes has to take unconventional paths. To stay at the top in the cutthroat news business, it's not enough to keep churning out the same funny stories; every now and then, you need a real blockbuster: Drumroll... Ladies and gentlemen... Three... Two... One... the bomb drops... ka-booooom!: I jumped out of an airplane from a height of 15,000 feet with a parachute. And here's how it happened: A friend at Netscape told me about the so-called tandem jumps, which are currently all the rage in the USA. You get strapped to an experienced skydiver, fly in a small plane to dizzying heights, jump out, and race towards the earth in free fall for 60 seconds before the skydiver pulls the cord and the parachute opens, allowing you to leisurely glide back to the starting point.

And so it happened: On a Saturday, we drove up to Davis near Sacramento, where "in the middle of nowhere" at the end of a road called "29a" lies a small airfield--within a 50 mile radius, there are only sugar and cornfields. We registered, attended an hour-long course on the most important safety regulations, and had to sign about 15 different documents, assuring that we would not sue the parachute company if something went wrong during the jump.

Boarding a skydiver's airplane

Then we were put into overalls, a parachutist named "Zach" introduced himself to me, and like astronauts heading to the Space Shuttle, we walked across the tarmac to a small propeller plane waiting there, which we squeezed into. The plane took a short run-up, took off, and spiraled upwards. After about 20 minutes, we reached an altitude of 15,000 feet, and it was time to go! A hatch was opened, and an icy wind rushed in, the experienced parachutists laughed their heads off when we said we were, uh, slightly unsettled.

My jumper tightened the straps that I was fastened to him with, and we hobbled forward to the hatch. I went, as we had discussed beforehand, up to the edge so that my toes slightly protruded over it, looked down--and I tell you, my dear ones: In front of me was nothing but an abyss, and down below was ... California. Meanwhile, Zach grabbed bar above the hatch with his hands, I crossed my arms over my chest, he counted "One ... Two ... Three !!!!" and I let myself tumble forward. The adrenaline rush that surged through my brain was incredible as we fell and fell and accelerated to about 120 miles per hour within a few seconds (Figure 1).

I fell forward, horizontally, with my belly towards the ground, Zach was strapped above me. Once we stabilized in free fall, he signaled to me with a "thumbs up" that I could extend my arms (Figure 2).

The cameraman, another skydiver with a video camera mounted on his helmet, had jumped right after us and was now circling around us to take some snapshots. It felt completely surreal: after the acceleration phase, you fall at a constant speed and feel completely weightless. It’s as if you’re floating in space, except you feel the wind and hear the roaring sound. This lasted for 60 seconds. The Earth slowly came closer, and I just looked around in amazement, unable to comprehend it.

During the free fall

Suddenly, there was another signal, and Zach opened the parachute, abruptly slowing us down from 120 mph to about 20 mph. It felt as if someone had yanked us upward by a string, and everything suddenly went silent. We could talk again. Zach handed me the straps of the parachute, and I got to pull them to the left and right to steer and get a sense of how the landing would go. Pulling both straps simultaneously slows you down, almost like hovering in midair.

We discussed what I needed to keep in mind for the landing: stretch my legs forward, pull the straps, and land on my rear. And that’s exactly how it went. After several minutes of gliding, we arrived safely back on Earth (Figure 4)).

I was still utterly confused, in the video that I was allowed to take home, you can see a landing Michael, the man behind the camera asks, "Mike, what do you think?" and the main character says -- ... -- nothing at all. A few seconds pause, then gesticulating wildly: "Amazing!". Don't try this at home, kids. We are trained professionals.

News from the Darkroom

Michael Angelika is meanwhile diligently working on her photos. Figure 5 shows the artist retouching the images, where even the last specks of dust that sneaked onto the negatives and photo paper during development are covered with matching color. Of course, the old overachiever received an "A+" in her photography course again. When I was in school, I also got straight A's, as you know. Haha, or not! And in the photo lab at the UC Berkeley Extension, the lady has made herself so indispensable that at the end of the semester, she received a call from the manager asking if she would like to take on the "Monitor" (tutor) job one day a week, to assist the students with advice and support, and to ensure order and discipline (the whip cracks: Pchtsch! Pchtsch!). As compensation, she is allowed to choose a course at the university and hang out at the photo lab as often as she wants, even when it is officially closed to the public, like during the holidays. I already know who will take full advantage of that until the very end.

The prize puzzle last time really gave you a hard time. Dear people, it seems you are greatly overestimating my athletic abilities. While I can easily fall a few thousand meters from the sky, I certainly can't jump up five feet high to reach the basketball hoop--am I Magic Johnson or what? Figure 6 shows the original image that a colleague took at Netscape, the fake version from the last newsletter, and another version where perhaps more people would have caught on. But after a few days of anxious waiting and a series of incorrect attempts (most guessed the Austin Powers image with the crooked teeth was fake), an email with the correct solution arrived: Mother and Bernd Schünke, who noticed the error due to the incorrect shadow in the image, sent in their suspicion via email and won! Congratulations and enjoy the hand-signed artwork!

New at Netscape

Michael Recently, I was walking through the cubicle rows at Netscape again to make myself a cappuccino in the kitchen. There's a professional espresso machine there that not only creates a top-notch "crema" but also has an endless steam wand for frothing milk, hiss, hiss. On one of my first days at work, I had to have a colleague explain how to use it, but by now I could easily serve at the counter in a cafe.

By the way, the drinks at Netscape are free and available in unlimited quantities, in line with an ancient hacker tradition, which, incidentally, the now infamous giant "Microsoft" started: In the kitchen, there's a huge refrigerator like in a supermarket, with hundreds of drink cans (Figure 7); maybe 15 types of "Coke," "Pepsi," all the associated diet, caffeine-free, and other combinations, as well as more exotic things like "Welch's Lemonade" and "Fruit Punch" -- there's something for every taste. The absolute in-drink in hacker circles at the moment is "Mountain Dew," a neon green shimmering caffeinated soda -- just an insider tip.

As I was once again strolling through the rows, I noticed that something had changed in one of the cubicles. There, a blue and white flag with the state coat of arms and the inscription "Free State of Bavaria" was prominently displayed (Figure 8). What on earth was going on there?! I looked into the cubicle and addressed the gentleman sitting there in English, asking if he knew that I also came from this region in Germany. Immediately, in a strong Bavarian dialect, he responded, asking if I spoke German. It turned out that "Dieter" was from Rosenheim near Munich, had been living in the USA for twenty years, and was married to an American. He spoke in the original dialect, and we chatted for half an hour until Chris (my boss) came by and reminded me that I was supposed to be in a meeting, haha!

In closing, here's an internal announcement of the newsletter editorial team: After the Süddeutsche Zeitung and the computer magazine iX, for which I occasionally write, have decided to switch to the new spelling rules, the newsletter is following suit -- even though at our age, we are not as flexible anymore. But if Günter Grass is against it, I must be for it. Make way for Angelika!

Photography Hour

Hawaii -- Maui

Angelika We still have sand in our shoes from Hawaii... that's an old German song and no joke, because just one week ago we came back from our one-week vacation, which we spent this time on the island of Maui. Just like that, five hours on a plane and you're in a tropical paradise, without even needing to show your passport, since Hawaii is, as you know, part of the USA. The word "Hawaii" probably conjures up images of surfers, palm trees, sandy beaches, cocktails, landscapes like Jurassic Park (the movie was actually filmed on Kauai), and floral print button down shirts not just for us. And let me tell you, you can find all of that there. Sometimes you really feel like you're looking at a postcard and not reality (see Figure 9).

Also, the weather there is world-class: It's never too hot, and of course you never need more than shorts and a T-shirt (even late at night). You can safely leave socks, undershirts, sweaters, and jackets at home. The ocean has such pleasant temperatures that even Michael spends hours in it, and I do too, as I'm known to be a North German water rat.

Of course, every paradise has its downsides, because after all, everyone wants to enjoy it, and others want to profit from tourism, so some major construction sins have already been committed on Maui. And it's so expensive that it makes you dizzy. A fish dish (without drinks, appetizers, or dessert) in a somewhat nicer restaurant costs a whopping 36 dollars, but hey, you only live once. And the argument that the exclusive location in the middle of the ocean makes everything more expensive because everything has to be shipped there doesn't make sense for fish, since it's right at the doorstep.

Otherwise, Maui is quite large, so you can always find quiet, less touristy spots. The beach in front of our hotel, for example, was a beautiful white sandy beach where we were often almost alone. On the last evening, we swam there while the sun set into the sea before our eyes. It was such a spectacle that my heart almost ached from so much beauty. Of course, we also rented a so-called boogie board again. It's the smaller version of a surfboard, with the difference that you don't have to stand on it but ride the waves lying on the board. So it's just right for beginners like us.

You should know that the waves in Hawaii are something else, after all, top surfers from all over the world come here, always in search of the perfect wave. In Hawaii, the seasons are also indicated by the height of the waves. Winter (October to April) is the season when the waves are murderously high at many beaches, and summer (May to September) is the time when the ocean shows its friendlier side--it's always pleasantly warm. Waves 30 feet high are not uncommon during the winter season. At a beach called "Jaws" (the English title of the movie called "Der weiße Hai" in German), whose location the locals keep strictly secret, surfers catapult themselves into waves with jet ski equipment that most of us would avoid the ocean by a wide margin (Figure 11).

We had, so to speak, caught the off-season. The anticipation of winter and the high waves was there, but the ocean still appeared relatively friendly, much to the disappointment of Michael, who annoyed me daily by complaining that the waves weren't high enough for him. It was enough for me because when we swam at the beach on the first day (without a board at that time), we immediately had to use the duck dive method to avoid being tossed around by the waves like a cabbage. The diving method works as follows: If the waves are very high, you have to dive under the wave before it breaks. If you wait too long, masses of water crash down on you, creating a current that tosses you around for several seconds, leaving you unsure of which way is up. The trick works great, but it takes a bit of courage at first. However, when the wave suddenly rolls in high in front of you, you better dive quickly.

And one more thing about Maui: We were also very impressed by the crater landscape "Haleakala," which was formed during a volcanic eruption 200 years ago (Figure 12). It's hard to describe how unique it looks; I'd say it's like being on the moon, and I'm probably quite right, as I read in the travel guide that American astronauts prepared for their first moon landing here because the landscape is so similar to that on the moon. The crater is as large as the New York City borough of Manhattan and it is crisscrossed by three hiking trails. We hiked one of these trails, which was not entirely easy, as you descend into the crater landscape and unfortunately have to return the same way, meaning it's constantly uphill, and the air is a bit thinner due to the altitude, as the summit is at 10,000 feet. However, we were rewarded with a unique natural spectacle: mist gently covering the crater landscape, the rocks shimmering in various shades of red and gray, and a unique silence, as hardly anything grows here and even animals can't handle the harsh conditions--so you only hear the rhythm of your own footsteps over the hardened lava.

Anyone who has ever seen the Grand Canyon or something similar at their feet knows how we felt. And since Maui is still fresh in our memory, this time the quiz question is also about it: What are the names of the inhabited islands of the state of Hawaii? The first correct email and the first letter received through regular mail will win the prize: a tropical surprise package.

Until next time, let us hear from you!

Angelika und Michael