From a phone call in Australia to a wingsuit pilot hooked to a plane inside the Grand Canyon, Max Manow tells the full story of how the Red Bull Endless Skydive went from idea to reality
The Phone Call That Started It All
It was on a trip to Australia, for the Jyro Boogie at Funny Farm, when I received a phone call from Red Bull. Someone with clearly no skydiving experience asked the following question:
Would it be possible to get pulled by an aircraft? My answer was: Well… everything is possible… let me think about it.
So I did. There were numerous projects with this basic idea in mind already. The Soul Flyers, Fred and Vince with their “Door in the Sky” project, formation skydives with wingsuits and planes, and Felix Baumgartner had once belayed himself from an aircraft while in a wingsuit.
The initial idea didn’t necessarily define whether I would be in a wingsuit or not. I thought about it a lot, but to minimize closing speed and endless research, trial and error, I decided to go with the wingsuit, since this would give me the biggest range in speed and glide.
But how was I going to attach to a plane? And which plane?
Choosing the Right Aircraft
Through contacts at Red Bull, we looked at different options. One idea was to use one of the “air race” planes and some sort of hooking mechanism. We flew to Hungary to meet with Peter Besenyei and talked about the project. He loved the idea, so I left him a FlySight GPS tracker to see if he could match my speed and angle in his aircraft.
When I received the data, I realized he could either match one or the other, but not both at the same time. So this wasn’t going to work. Around the same time, Luke and Andy had just completed their “plane swap” project, equipping two Cessna 182s with an airbrake that allowed them to slow the plane down and pitch it to almost any desired angle.
So I talked to Luke and told him about my idea…everything it was at that moment.
He was immediately fired up and began giving me all kinds of ideas. It wasn’t long before he called me and showed me different mechanisms he had built for me to hang onto.
Now the first step was clear: fly close to his plane and attach myself. And then? For the idea to make sense, I wanted to be able to fly back up to “exit altitude” once attached. That opened a whole new set of challenges. How long could I hold on? At what speed? For how long? And most importantly…how would we communicate?
Photo shared by Max Manow
Test 1: Feasibility at Kapowsin
I flew to Kapowsin to meet Luke at Andy’s dropzone to conduct the feasibility test. Could I jump from a plane, reach Luke’s aircraft, attach myself, fly level or climb, detach, and open safely?
Luke attached a long pole under the airbrake so it would sit outside the plane’s burble, which was huge and impossible to fly in or through. The pole was long enough to end in a good position, but short enough that it wouldn’t interfere with the tail if it broke. For the test, we taped a rope loop to the end to make it easier to hook into.
I wore a climbing harness under my suit, holding a large carabiner in my left hand. The sling connecting the harness to the carabiner was velcroed to my modified wingsuit so it wouldn’t interfere in flight. To see what I was doing, I needed to be on my back, which meant nailing a fast belly-to-back transition. I trained this extensively in the tunnel in Stockholm at different speeds and angles, always with one hand on the carabiner. I didn’t want the transition to slow me down or look sloppy.
Solving the Communication Problem
Communication turned out to be one of the biggest challenges. We tried aviation radios, Bluetooth intercoms, sign language…everything. After the first failed attempt, we realized we had to either see or talk to each other. Since none of the systems worked reliably, Luke bought a baby monitor and mounted the camera under the plane so he could at least see me.
And then… success. I clipped in, he leveled the plane, I flew attached, and my double-release system worked. I detached and landed safely. I remember flying in circles for a couple of minutes attached to the plane without losing altitude, just cruising. A skydiver’s dream.
Holy sh*t. This is going to work.
Refinement Along the Way
After that test, we knew we were onto something. But the to-do list was long. We changed the mechanism so it would look like I was holding on. Luke modified the pole, the landing retraction system, and standardized airbrake settings to ensure consistency.
Months passed while we continued refining the concept. One big unknown remained: where would we do it? What was the story? How could this be more than just an idea?
A few months before execution, we thought of the Grand Canyon. We would enter separately, attach below the rim, and climb out together. Getting permits was incredibly lucky. But the canyon’s low rim height meant everything would be more intense and more dangerous. The pressure was on. I had many sleepless nights running through every possible scenario.
Final Preparations
I flew to Arizona to train with Luke at a local airport. We upgraded the handle to a 30 cm wide bar with a metal ring. I switched to a kite harness with a front hook. We installed high-end two-channel radios used in high-risk industrial environments so we could talk hands-free.
We attempted multiple times. Speeds were off. The mechanism failed. The pole broke. Weather didn’t cooperate. I started questioning everything. Did I promise too much? Was this going to fall apart? Then we had one final training day. Seven jumps. Three successful. Not pretty — but workable.
Inside the Canyon
We chose a narrow canyon section that allowed enough room for Luke to enter below the rim and climb out without turning. I had about three seconds to attach before he needed to pull up. It was tight. Attempt 1 was just a rehearsal. It worked perfectly. Attempt 2, I rushed the hook and missed. I got unstable and was flung sideways closer to the walls than I ever wanted to be. I opened safely.
The next morning felt different. On Jump 1, I grabbed the handle, hooked in, and Luke climbed out of the canyon while talking me through the entire seven-minute ascent. It was exhausting. The airspeed was so slow my suit behaved differently. My arms burned.
When I unhooked, I was directly above base camp. Too tired for a flyby, I opened immediately and landed. We did it. Attempts 2 and 3 were successful. On the final landing, we discussed going lower under the rim. I decided not to push it. Everything had worked exactly as needed. I felt like I had used up all my luck and good karma. We had made the “Endless Skydive” project in the Grand Canyon a reality.
Looking Back
Looking back, I have mixed emotions. From the first phone call to the final release, so much happened. Curiosity hooked me on this project. What started as a cool idea grew into something massive and complex.
As the project grew, so did my internal pressure. Can I pull it off? Did I think of everything? I lay awake many nights running through scenarios to eliminate as much unknown as possible. For weeks, I had a love–hate relationship with this project. Now, it’s hard to remember the stress and pressure.
Would I do it again? Absolutely. I learned who I am, what I’m really good at, and that growth only happens outside your comfort zone. The public sees the clips and media. I carry the gratitude, insights, and personal growth.
