I have largely delayed writing this article since the 28th of November 2017, a day that haunts me as the day I nearly lost my life to brain injuries sustained during high-altitude operations. The details I share here, though heavily redacted for security reasons, aim to educate my fellow skydiving brothers and sisters who are considering high-altitude jumps.
To start, we should agree on terms. When we talk about high altitude in the civilian setting, I believe we are referring to jumps made at or above 18,000 ft MSL. My specific incident occurred at approximately 25,000 ft, but the points below should encourage anyone considering such jumps to question the risks. I also highly recommend reading TB-263 – PIA High Altitude Best Practices.
The allure of high altitude jumps is undeniable: high above the DZ on a perfect, if frigid, day, gazing at the curvature of the Earth. This “forbidden fruit” of skydiving tempts as a beautiful but unforgiving mistress, accessible to those with the resources to pursue it.
My Early Journey
My own path began at 17, walking into the Armed Forces Careers Office after being expelled from school and “relieved of duties” at McDonald’s (apparently it wasn’t acceptable to hit a manager with a mop). With brushes with the police and a string of failures behind me, it felt like the aptitude test at Gloucester AFCO might be the first step in the right direction.
Some 18 years later, I would find myself sitting on a military aircraft, having just dispatched groups of test parachutists, only to immediately start succumbing to altitude-induced Decompression Sickness (DCS).
November 28, 2017: The Incident
Until that day, I considered myself “experienced”—whatever that means. I had served on multiple operational tours, logged around 9,000 jumps, and thought I understood risk. Yet it wasn’t enemy fire or a roadside IED that nearly killed me, but tiny nitrogen bubbles invading my brain.
All protocols were followed: drills, pre-breathing, sortie planning. I was acting as high-altitude dispatcher at 25,000 ft, rotating through this role as part of a test team. Everything was routine until the last parachutist exited.
The Onset of DCS
Immediately afterward, I felt like I’d been shot through the hip, then branded across the hamstring. I staggered to a seat with perhaps 30 seconds to raise the alarm, but I failed. Cognitively aware but physically paralyzed, I endured excruciating pain as nitrogen infiltrated my muscles, joints, and brain, shutting down my ability to communicate.
The ordeal only escalated: flown to a hypobaric chamber, pressed to negative 60 ft, hallucinations, a dilated eye, and the sense that I had less than an hour to live. Though my life was saved, the recovery was long and brutal: traumatic brain injury treatment, speech and occupational therapy, and MRIs. I cried uncontrollably, stuttered through ordering coffee, and often wished I hadn’t survived.
The Reality of Civilian High-Altitude Jumps
My experience highlights why high-altitude jumping in the civilian context is, frankly, crazy to me. I had the best team, military-grade oxygen systems, and millions spent on aftercare, yet I barely survived. So before you spend your savings on a “fun jump,” ask the right questions.
Key Considerations
- Does the operation have access to a Table 6 hypobaric chamber?
- How soon can you get there after landing?
- What is the plan if more than one person is injured?
- What are the pre-breathe protocols?
Risk and Mindset
- Understand that risk tolerance has shifted.
- Commercial availability of 40,000 ft jumps doesn’t make 25,000 ft jumps “safe.”
- Past survival does not guarantee future survival.
Insurance and Planning
- Does your insurance cover aviation-induced illness or injury?
- What about aftercare?
- What happens if you deploy prematurely at altitude?
- Will your oxygen system endure the entire descent?
Screening and Fitness
- Is pre-screening required? EKG? Bubble echo cardiogram?
- Is a ROB-D (Reduced Oxygen Breathing Device) ride sufficient?
Tandem Considerations
What about tandems? Do students or passengers fully understand the risks? If the instructor becomes incapacitated, two lives are at stake.
I’m not saying don’t do it. Free will is yours. But get the right education, ask the right questions, and weigh risk versus reward carefully. I am one of only a handful of people to fully recover from altitude-induced brain trauma. Given the choice between a 40,000 ft jump and eight 5,000 ft hop-and-pops, I know my answer and I’ll keep the leftover cash.
My survival was a mix of fluke luck, incredible people, and near-limitless resources. Not everyone will have that. So listen to the voice in your head, exercise caution, and when in doubt, walk away.
