Kirsty takes the plunge for Springhill Hospice

Kirsty - only a few feet to landing and bang on target

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Falling out of a plane from 14,000 feet isn’t something you get to do every day. But it is certainly something to remember for a long time, says Rochdale Online reporter Kirsty Rigg…

As I arrived, nervous, at the Black Knights Parachute Centre, it hadn’t quite sunk in what I was about to do.

First off was training; a group of people crouched anxiously on the floor as a skydiving instructor laid down the basic rules of skydiving, one of which, he said jokingly, was “arch or die”. Nobody laughed!

Soon enough, my name was called and I went to get kitted out. “Step into these loops, these will keep you attached to me” said my instructor, Dick Kalinski.

I broke into a nervous laugh as I waddled outside in my orange jumpsuit, and waited for my plane to arrive.

I was in the second plane, which means I had just watched one plane set off with a group of white-faced jumpers. I’m confident I was an equal shade of white as the Pilatus Porter aircraft pulled up on the runway. My turn!

Reality was setting in as I climbed in and took my seat on a tiny bench.

Crammed like sardines into the plane, we made for the sky, 14,000 feet in under 12 minutes: “Look you can see Blackpool Tower” said my instructor. I glanced quickly and reverted to looking at the floor, determined not to look down until absolutely necessary.

Eventually, the engine slowed and it was time to open the door. It was at this point I thought my heart was going to jump right out of my chest. I began to question myself: 'Why, on Earth, would I want to jump out of a plane? What if the parachute doesn’t work?' It was too late by then – I was going whether I liked it or not.

I was the last to jump out of three people, and I watched nervously as they went from life-size people to disappearing dots below me.

I finally climbed into the doorway and, as instructed, tucked my feet underneath the plane. 

A video cameraman was waving at me from where he was hanging outside the door. I wondered how he could look so calm.

I had about three seconds to panic before I was off - what an amazing feeling.

Luckily, the weather was stunning, glorious sunshine, a clear blue sky and I could see for miles. Suddenly, panic turned to sheer thrill.

As I fell through the air I could feel myself turning, with the wind blowing violently on my face. But I didn’t care much about that, I was having too much fun.

Almost too soon, the freefall was over and I rocketed upwards as my parachute opened. Compared to the speed I was falling, I felt like I’d come to a complete halt.

Luckily, my instructor trusted me enough to grip the ropes and steer the parachute as I soaked up the incredible view of Blackpool and Morecambe.

I twisted and turned playfully until I landed safely on the ground, where I was faced with  a keen photographer, who had been following my descent with his camera from about a thousand feet (see photo gallery).

The buzz was absolutely immense, something I would certainly recommend, especially as I was doing it for Springhill Hospice.

A massive thank you to all my generous sponsors, I was over the moon to be able to hand over £841 to the charity.