Wingsuiter: Loïc Jean-Albert
Have you ever dreamt of flying? Of feeling the wind beneath you as you glide over towns, valleys, and fields? The birds have always been an object of envy for human beings, a symbol of absolute freedom unbound from the restrictions of gravity. The idea of flying is not so much a matter of transport, it is about flight. Having the ability to soar in movements of abject satisfaction, freed from the bonds of life on the ground, the ability to dream in such a way that one literally has their heads in the clouds. Of course, this is far outside the realm of our natural abilities, but some have come closer than most would dare dream of: wingsuiters.
The first recorded use of a wingsuit was in February of 1912, when tailor and crazed inventor Franz Reichelt jumped from the top of the Eiffel tower after telling guards that he would use a dummy for his experiment. Perhaps it could be argued that he did, since he proceeded to plummet to his death, opening up a significant hole in the frozen ground with his head.
It was almost 100 years before the wingsuit was perfected and available for commercial use, although it remains a dangerous and specialist form of skydiving, with beginners needing to have racked up at least 200 regular skydive jumps. A wingsuit has fabric underneath the arms and between the legs (resembling flying-squirrels, earning it the name squirrel-suiting), which allows its wearer to increase lift and glide. Wingsuiters are capable of reducing their downward speed to around 30 miles per hour in comparison to the 120 miles per hour typical of regular skydiving, and move forward at speeds of over 60 miles per hour. It truly is the closest one can come to flying.
Perhaps the most famous form of wingsuiting is proximity BASE flying, first practiced by Loïc Jean-Albert and the subject of many awe-inspiring viral videos. In this death-defying sport, the wingsuiter jumps from a cliff, much like BASE jumping, before releasing their wingsuit and gliding close to the ridges, rockfaces, and trees of the mountain. The risks are obvious, but one need only watch one of the videos to understand the pure intoxication that these individuals must feel. The manoeuvres are needle-point precise and satisfying to the extreme. One can only imagine the elation of soaring down a mountainside like an eagle or hawk, for the world to seem so small in your connectedness with the airstreams, pines and rocks whizzing beneath your belly. It is both a refutation of, and communion with, the natural world in a way that most of us can only dream of, and what a wonderful dream it is.
