Mental base jumping

Somewhere out in California it’s midnight and two BASE jumpers and I are beginning a three-kilometre hike in complete darkness to a 100m antenna leap.

As we get closer, the jumpers talk between themselves. “Are you scared, man?”
“Shit yeah!”
As we prepare to climb under the razor-wire fence, the guys give me instructions. “Once we get into the perimeter, we need to stay quiet and low. When we get ready to climb onto the antenna, we need to jump onto the structure in case it carries an electrical charge. It won’t shock you if you’re not grounded.”

They explain that it’s like a bird on a wire – you can’t touch the ground and antenna at the same time otherwise you get zapped.

I’m starting to question why the hell I’m climbing a 100m antenna in the dark. I’m not even jumping, just taking photos. The guys laugh, “I wouldn’t climb this without a rig [parachute]. You feel safer when worrying you might fall. Not to mention it’s the purpose of climbing the f–kin’ thing in the first place.”

As we ascend the antenna, we start out on small pegs for the first seven metres, which then switches to a ladder – the smallest ladder I’ve ever seen. It isn’t even bolted to the antenna – it hangs on a series of hooks. It shakes and rattles with each step. It will take 30 pants-soiling minutes to climb to the very top.

Somewhere around the 35m mark, I look down and realise there isn’t enough light to warrant a photo anyway. That means I’ve got no reason to keep climbing. That’s a good thing. The bummer is I’m stuck in the middle of two jumpers on a crap, skinny ladder. I tell the guys I’m not going to continue. They laugh. “Suit yourself, but we’re not going back down.”

Moments later, I find myself hanging off the edge of the antenna, holding on with one butt cheek pressed firmly against an angled cross-support and only one hand holding the ladder. As the jumper quickly squeezes past, my grip weakens.

Suddenly, I hear a pop. Then a whiz. This happens twice, but I don’t see shit. Before I know it, both jumpers are safely on the ground. I didn’t see a damn thing! “Hey, did we get you?” they yell.
“Get me?” I repeat.
“Yeah, we puked at the top. You know, nerves. We worried we might have puked on you.”

Fall Guys
Another late night turns into an early morning. As the jumpers prepare to dodge security and enter the building, they all do a wallet check. A wallet check is when each jumper counts their cash.

They carry this cash for bail and/or bribe money as needed. On this jump, they have around $1200 between the four of them.

As the jumpers disappear over the fence with the No Trespassing sign, I join the ground crew in a car with the engine running. The ground crew consists mainly of wives, girlfriends and friends of jumpers. They drive the getaway cars, which means they get to stay up all night, sit in a car, rarely even see the actual jump, then possibly flee from the police who’ll make them an accessory to the crime.

As the jumpers prepare for their leap, I’m standing in the middle of the street to get the best possible camera angle. I hear the familiar pop of a parachute opening. The whizzing of the approaching jumpers gets closer. Someone yells, “Look out! Look out!”

Out of the darkness, a pair of boots screams from the sky, falling like a ton of bricks. My head is almost decapitated as the jumper jerks his feet up, narrowly missing me. The jumper crashes, rolling down the street yelling, “I almost killed you, man!”

Seconds later, the next jumper arrives, crash-landing badly in a tree growing out of the city footpath.