The bungee jump

In April I did a sponsored bungee jump in aid of the Walter Segal Self Build Trust, a charity which helps homeless people . . .
I originally saw the advert for a free bungee jump at Brunel University climbing wall, when I was there with two school friends.
We telephoned and signed up. A month or so later, when we were sent information and the date for the jump, I suddenly realised what I had let myself in for!

The week before

Previously I had prayed a few times about things associated with the jump, such as telling my parents and girlfriend what I planned to do. Now I started praying for safety! During the week before the jump, I prayed with various friends and relatives and the YPF prayed for me too. I also heard so many stories and jokes about bungee jumping, including such helpful comments as: 'Have you heard the one about the bungee jumper whose elastic was too long?!'

Jump day

On the morning of the jump, I packed a bag containing all the essentials: wallet, A to Z of London, camera and spare boxers (!), etc.. One of the church lads, Bertie, came and looked after me. We drove to Battersea then caught a bus to Chelsea where I was going to jump.
As we got off the bus, I looked up, up, up and up and saw a tiny little cage on the end of a very, very tall crane. I then heard a scream and watched a little dot fall from the sky and come down low enough to be recognised as a bloke with a very pale face. It was at that point that I really began to see why everyone thought I was a nutter for doing this jump. Everything became clear. I was about to leap from a huge crane to get some money for charity and so that London's tourists could go home and say that they had seen some very deranged people scare themselves LOTS and LOTS!

Waiting

I went to register. I filled in lots of details on a form and skipped through a huge disclaimer which basically said that if I got killed it was not their fault. I signed my most shaky signature ever, paid my sponsorship money and was weighed. There was no going back any more.
Bertie and I sat around watching many other people dive, jump, wobble and step out of the cage above. I gradually got calmer. No one had been seriously injured that day so why worry? Another friend of mine, Westy, arrived and checked in. But now it was 12.30 and we were told we would not be jumping until at least 3.00pm. We practised with the video camera, went to the loo lots of times and watched loads of people having huge adrenaline rushes.

That's me

'Number 24 please' came a voice. 'Ahhh! That's me. Oh . . . um . . . er . . . well. . . er . . . I'm coming' (Cue - chew fingernails down to the bone!) I was weighed again, just to check. Then I put on a climbing harness around my waist. I had to empty my pockets and had my friendship bracelets taped around my wrists.
I sat on a bench while an instructor put on my ankle harness thingy. The cage was lowered and out walked another instructor towards me. It was like in the film Terminator 2 where the Terminator takes big, scary footsteps towards the bad guy just before he kills him! Because of the ankle harness, I had to hop over to the cage where I sat down. Even as I write this, sometime later, my heart beat has quickened a lot!
Anyway, I sat down and was told exactly what was going to happen. They clipped me on to the appropriate bungee for my weight and then attached the other end to the bottom of the cage, (yes, I did check they did that!). Then the cage started to rise and everyone on the ground got very small. The instructor carried on talking and then told me to look at the horizon rather than the ground, for obvious reasons.

3 2 1 Bungeeeeee . . .!

The cage shuddered as it came to a halt. I gave a very half-hearted attempt to smile to the cameraman as the cage turned around so I was facing the old Battersea power station. The instructor then opened the gate and told me to focus on the top right chimney on the powerstation. I looked down. Ahhhhhhhh! Help! 'No, focus, come on.' I thought it was easy for him to say. He wasn't giving birth to dozens of kittens was he! He told me that he would say '3, 2, 1, Bungee.' At which point I would dive forward. 'Smile and scream. OK?' I focused on the chimney, and then suddenly he yelled '3, 2 ,1, BUNGEEE'. He took me so much by surprise that I just dived out of the cage before I realised what I was doing. The cheek of the guy eh?!!
I was flying, or more technically falling, very, very fast. I did not realise that the Thames would rise up to meet me so quickly. Everything around it expanded rapidly ... and then shrunk ... and then expanded ... etc. ... most confusing. As I reached the bottom of the first dip I could feel all my blood at the front of my face. As I bounced up it all whizzed back to my feet, and then back to my face. Weird! As I got to the bottom of the first dip I realised I still hadn't screamed as the cameraman had asked me to, so I just yelled and screamed and writhed around as I swung and bounced.

Thank you, Lord

As I ran out of bounce the cage began to be lowered. When I was about six feet off the ground two instructors grabbed my hands then carried me over to a big beanbag and laid me down. I just lay there as my harness was re-moved thinking: 'Wow.' I was speechless. 'Thank you Lord,' I thought. Eventually I staggered out of the enclosed area telling Westy how excellent it was. He then went through with it and came out a slightly less gibbering wreck than I did.
We went straight to the office to get our certificates and buy T-shirts. I then walked/floated back to the car with Bertie, telling him about it, probably without stopping. In the care on the way home, again we prayed lots of 'thank you' prayers.
That night I think I only got three or four hours' sleep. As I started to drift off I would suddenly get a vivid picture of me in the cage above the Thames. I couldn't stop thinking about it for at least at hour. This process was repeated the next night too. So by the third night I was so tired I nearly slept 12 hours solidly.

This piece is from the Chertsey Street YPF magazine, and is used by permission of the editors Anna Fernandez and Anthea Clegg.

Extract from Chertsey Street YPF Magazine

The week before

Jump day

Waiting

That's me

3 2 1 Bungeeeeee . . .!

Thank you, Lord

Mr Jono Watkins

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