Falling Back Into It: What It's Like to Return to Skydiving After a Long Break
The Long Break
After years of tunnel time, missed seasons, and bullshit excuses, I finally got my act together and did a recurrency jump. This is what it’s like to come back to skydiving after almost five years away—when the addiction’s (somewhat) faded, but the sky keeps taunting you.
My first taste of skydiving was a tandem. And honestly? It didn’t blow my mind. I remember landing and thinking, That’s it? I nearly didn’t come back.
I even posted in a Facebook group asking if it was worth doing AFF—half hoping someone would talk me out of it. But the replies were solid, and something told me to give it a proper go.
A month later, I started AFF.
In 2020, I earned my FS1 and figured things would get easier from there. They didn’t. Even organising the FS1 jumps—and paying for everyone's jump—felt impossible. Formation skydiving is meant to be a basic milestone, but it turned into a logistical nightmare.
So in 2021, with FF1 in my sights, I hit the tunnel instead. I figured I’d build my flying skills there, then knock out the jumps. But I never wanted to be a tunnel rat—I wanted to skydive.
The momentum fizzled out. 2022 passed. Then 2023. I told myself I’d get back in the air.
I even emailed Headcorn in 2024. But when it came down to it? I made excuses. All that time, I’d catch myself staring up at a blue, jumpable sky, and feeling like it was taunting me.
Not calling me—taunting me. I never let go of the dream, though.
Long before I ever jumped, I wanted to learn to skysurf. That was the goal from day one. I’ve still got unfinished business with the sky.
The only dropzone I've ever jumped at. It felt appropriate that I would do my recurrency here.
Jump Day
The morning of my recurrency jump, I needed something to light the spark.
I put on an old YouTube video I used to watch when I was working toward my A licence — Viviane Wegrath skysurfing over Europe (watch it here).
Seeing her carve through the clouds brought it all flooding back: the obsession, the goal, the reason I ever started.
It didn’t just hype me up — it reminded me what I was chasing.
Before I could jump, there was some ground school to get through — no getting around it after that long a break.
Stu ran us through a mini refresher. We had to draw out the landing pattern on paper, answer some basic questions, and walk out to the landing area to get a feel for it again.
We also practiced emergency procedures using a training harness, pulling handles until it felt natural.
It wasn’t hard, but it took a few hours.
Standing there, walking through drills, it finally started to sink in: this was really happening.
No more talking about jumping. No more thinking about it.
Today, I was getting back in the sky.
When it was finally time to jump, I was lucky enough to do my recurrency with Vic Bradley.
Vic’s experience in the sport really stood out, and having someone so capable on the jump gave me a lot of confidence. I felt totally safe throughout.
I wasn’t as nervous as I thought I’d be.
I honestly expected to freeze at the door — four and a half years is a long time to be out of the game.
But when it came time to gear up, walk to the plane, and crouch inside with the door rumbling open… it all felt strangely familiar.
Vic and I went over the plan one last time.
- Left turn.
- Right turn.
- Forward.
- Backwards.
- Stop manoeuvring at 6,000 feet.
- Pull at 5,000 feet.
Simple.
Before I had time to overthink it, it was jump time.
I stepped out — and the muscle memory kicked in.
The turns, the movement… it wasn’t perfect, but it was there.
I felt the air, the speed, the freedom again.
At 6,000 feet we stopped manoeuvres. At 5,000 feet, I pitched.
Canopy deployed clean.
No drama.
Even the landing went well — I didn’t flare early or mess it up.
It felt good.
Rusty, but good.
Recurrency Jump 2025 Headcorn
Back in the Air - Now Licensed
After I got current again, it felt like I could finally call myself a skydiver again. And to celebrate, I grabbed James, the same friend I last jumped with back in 2020, and we went up for a second jump.
We had a plan: side slide, then track. Simple, right? Well, the side slide? Complete fail. The track, though — it was better, but I needed to de-arch for it to work. Still, it was all part of getting back into the swing of things.
But honestly? I wasn’t even mad. There’s something about being back in the sky that puts it all into perspective. I wasn’t there for perfection — I was there for the freedom, and the pure joy of jumping.
The Final Word
Getting back into skydiving after a long break isn’t always easy, but it’s worth every second. The jump was a reminder that the sky is never too far away, and no matter how much time passes, the pull of skydiving is always there, waiting for you to come back.
Whether you’re coming back from a break or jumping for the first time, every skydive is a reminder of why we do it — for the rush, for the freedom, and because there’s nothing like it.
So here’s to many more jumps, and making sure the sky stays just a little bit closer.