The BEST jump EVER…

We’re sitting in the door of the jump plane. Before us is a vast panorama of white stretching from horizon to horizon. We can see hundreds of kilometres in every direction because in Antarctica, there is no dust, no pollution and no heat haze. We’re in the quiet moment for wingsuiters – the calm before the storm. 

The flat flyers, vertical jumpers and tandems are out of the plane and there’s just us, the pilots and the doorless plane, pushing into the wind. We are waiting until the plane is two nautical miles past the drop zone before we get out. With a strong headwind, this space between composure and clamour can last about a minute. On this day it seems to go on forever. The headwind was over 50 knots and the plane was running in at 80kts. My wife, Heather, and I are sitting in the door, legs dangling outside waiting for the thumbs-up from the copilot indicating that we are 2 miles past. It isn’t a normal jump plane, and it isn’t a normal jump. We are 15,000 feet above Union Glacier, Antarctica in a Twin Otter with skis instead of wheels. We’re running in parallel to the Ellsworth Mountains. Beyond them, the West Antarctic ice sheet stretches uninterrupted, all the way to the South Pole, an infinite pattern of white shades. The light, the reflection of the sun on the land, the glint of white stretching into blue. Every direction is mesmerising. I could look at this for hours…

Just getting to this DZ was an adventure. We boarded an Ilyushin IL-76TD cargo plane in Punta Arenas, on the southern tip of Chile. The plane is a four-engine turbo-fan strategic air lifter/freighter designed in 1967 by the Soviet Union’s Ilyushin design bureau. It is crewed by bunch of craggy ex-Soviet warriors. It’s large enough to carry a couple of medium tanks, but on that day it had the provisions and belongings of 50 passengers and staff destined for the private Antarctic base. We had to wear ear plugs to dampen the sound from the colossal engines. They chew through fuel at a rate measured in tons per hour. 

From Punta Arenas the plane headed south for 1,859 miles (2991 km). The front of the aircraft is a glass inverted dome, supposedly so the navigator can see where he is going. The view was amazing. After an hour or so we crossed the Antarctic coast. Way below we could see a scratch across the coast – the navigator told me it was the path of an ice breaker. As we continued south over the continent we lost the horizon. White ground blended into white clouds. I was glad the crew had done this flight hundreds of times. After another two hours we were told to put on our down jackets, thick gloves, solid boots, sunglasses and windproofs in preparation for landing on the naturally occurring blue ice runway at Union Glacier.

Union Glacier Camp (at 79°46′S 82°52′W in the southern Ellsworth Mountains) is set up each year and run by Antarctic Logistics & Expeditions (ALE), the largest land-based Antarctic support company. The full-service private camp operates during the Antarctic summer (November through January) and provides accommodation for guests on guided experiences and also serves as a logistics hub, supporting private expeditions and National Antarctic Programs. UGC can house up to 70 guests in surprisingly comfortable dual occupancy Clam Tents designed to withstand Antarctic conditions.

The mess tent is the warm heart of the operation. The food is prepared by chefs utilizing a fully equipped kitchen to create fresh-cooked meals with produce flown in regularly from Chile. Next to the camp is a runway for two ski-equipped de Havilland DHC-6 Twin Otters and a Basler BT-67. These aircraft ferry mountaineers to Vinson Massif, adventurers to the South Pole and conservationists to the Emperor Penguin Rookery at Gould Bay Colony on the Weddell Sea coast. Since 2017 the Twin Otters have also been taking skydivers to 15,000 feet for the jump of a lifetime.

I switch my gaze from the incredible landscape to the copilot. The plane doesn’t have ‘jump’ lights nor benches, nor a door. The pilots are Canadian smoke jumper pilots used to dropping firefighter parachutists at low altitude. Their experience and engagement makes us all feel safe. Finally, we get the thumbs-up. We are two miles past. I nod to Heather. She does the countdown we have used to start so many jumps; out, in, go…

We’re flying. The plane is just in front of us, pulling away like the hare that got away. My concern about planting my face into the rear end of the ski was not realised. I turn left and see Heather, a red dot in an ocean of white. I lift my arms to change the angle of attack of the suit. I overdive and arrow past her. It occurs to me that I can’t feel my hands properly. This is what an exit temperature of minus 50 degrees Celsius means. We understood before the jump that the wind chill factor was off the chart for a wingsuit travelling over 100mph in this ambient temperature. So, no flesh can be exposed. It would freeze in seconds. We’re wearing open-faced Cookie helmets with balaclavas, ski googles and wind-stopper buffs plus the wingsuit and winter gloves with chemical hand warmers. And I can hardly feel my hands. 

I have to focus and fly the suit. Worry about the hands later.

There’s a small cloud coming up. Suddenly we’re in a sparkling pixie land. This is not a cloud of water vapour, it’s a cloud of ice crystals. The light is refracting into myriad rainbows. The colours dance around us. Below, the great white stretches to infinity. We could just play in this fairytale landscape and keep going forever. 

I have to snap out of it and get us home. 

I turn us to the left again. There’s the base. I check the alti. We have plenty of height and will make it back. Just as well, because this drop zone is one of the most unforgiving in the world. The ALE Union Glacier Camp lies in a sweet spot between a crevasse field below Mount Ross and the howling katabatic winds that funnel down the centre of the glacier. Fly too far and we risk disappearing into a hole that could swallow the Empire State building. Don’t fly far enough and we risk landing backwards in a 35 knot maelstrom of cold air sinking off the polar plateau. Significant incentive to get it right. Just in case, we carry inReach satellite communicators and the crack ALE Rescue team are ready to pull us out of any shit we may get ourselves into. 

I look to my right and there’s Heather, my wing woman. With the balaclava, I can’t see if she has the same stupid grin on her face that I have. Just over her shoulder is the sun. It’s surrounded by a halo – a parhelion or sun dog. Another transfixing, wonderful distraction.

I tell myself to focus – don’t mess up. We are the first couple to wingsuit skydive in Antarctica. This is a make or break jump for the program. I deliberately look down from the sun. Under Heather’s right wing I can see the summit of Mount Ross, the mountain that protects and sometimes threatens the ALE base. We spent a week in base camp looking up at this mythical monolith and now it’s an ice cream cone underneath us. Once again, I must deliberately pull my eyes away from the unadulterated beauty and concentrate on where we are going. The camp is just ahead, tiny colourful dots in a boundless vista of white, blue and black. Time slows down. We are in the perfect moment, part of a majestic landscape, connected to each other and the power and splendour around us.

The audible altimeter goes off. A gateway back to reality. Work to do. My hands are painful from the cold, but I can still feel the hacky. I pray for a clean opening with no line twists. Hallelujah. The sudden silence takes my breath away. I put my gloved hands into the steering toggles by sight rather than feel. My hands are numb claws, but I can control the canopy. I see and hear Heather. She is whooping and laughing with unashamed joy. 

I’m more guarded because there is one more unknown challenge – landing on an endless white expanse with limited definition. Over snow, it’s hard to tell if you’re 50 feet or 10 feet high. We’ve heard horror stories of people flaring too high or not flaring at all over snow. Fortunately, the groomed landing area is right next to the luxury clam tents in the base camp. So, we have a reference point. As always, the katabatic wind is coming down the glacier but, on the edge, where the camp is, it’s a comfortable 10kts. We land next to each other. Speechless. Overwhelmed. The best jump ever.

NOTE: To experience this once in lifetime jump, visit https://antarctic-logistics.com/trip/skydive-antarctica/ The Union Glacier Camp DZ operates for one week a year (early January). It is a full service DZ for experienced jumpers (D Licence and above) and tandems. ALE now fly standard Boeing 757 commercial jets for their scheduled, intercontinental passenger flights. These are faster, quieter, more fuel efficient and have plenty of windows.