Red Bull Gives Us All Wings

"...I wish you could see what I can see. Sometimes you have to be up really high to realise how small you are..." ~ Felix Baumgartner, October 14, 2012

Watching Felix Baumgartner lean forward and plunge into history was one of the single most exciting things I've ever witnessed. By the time he put his boots out onto the platform and pulled himself upright, my own heart was thundering in my chest. It was a moment that I, personally, had been waiting on for years; and, when it finally arrived, was far more than I had anticipated.

For me it started many years ago. As a young man who loved danger, thrill-seeking, and adrenaline, I was intrigued by individuals who were exceptional amongst the most exceptional. I was impressed by courageous men; astronauts, test pilots, cliff-divers, BASE jumpers, and anybody on a bomb squad or assault team of any kind. I read books about war heroes, world explorers, and space adventurers, and when I was in college I ran across the story of Capt. Joseph Kittenger. From that point forward, the bar was pretty much set.

Joseph Kittinger was a US Air Force test pilot in the late 1950s. At the time the US military was conducting tests and experiments studying the effects of high altitude on the human body. As part of a project called Excelsior, Kittinger was selected to sky-dive from heights never before attempted, in order to gather information on high-altitude bailouts.

On August 16, 1960, Kittinger, riding in a gondola carried by a high-altitude balloon, jumped from altitude of 102,800 feet, just shy of 19 1/2 miles up. His free-fall lasted an amazing four minutes and 36 seconds (time that on your watch!), during which he reached a speed of 614 miles an hour. All three of which were world records at the time: highest altitude jump, longest free-fall, and fastest speed by a human being through the atmosphere.

                                       Joe Kittinger going where no man has gone before...

Needless to say, Capt. Kittinger impressed me. I tried to imagine the amount of heart and courage it required to step into the doorway of that gondola 19 miles above the Earth, and then to let go of your fear, and fall forward into destiny. That is some powerful stuff. I was equally impressed and excited when I found out about Felix Baumgartner and the Red Bull Stratos Project. This was a new project designed to return to the edge of space and to jump once again in an effort to break these records and gather even more information on the effects of extreme altitude on the human body. Baumgartner, a pilot and BASE-jumper, was just the right combination of fearless adrenaline junkie and cool, calculated scientist to earn him the job.

Baumgartner started working with the Red Bull team in 2010. Two years later after extensive scientific research and development, physiological and mechanical testing, and two test jumps from lower altitudes, everything culminated in a final jump that took place on the morning of October 14, in the middle of the New Mexico desert.

I had set my alarm for 5:30 AM five days prior, the original launch date. I got up, made myself some coffee, and settled in to watch Baumgartner's own leap into the record books. Aside from the jump itself, the most critical part of the mission is the initial takeoff and ascent of the balloon and the gondola beneath it. The balloon material is 10 times thinner than a plastic sandwich bag, and is, obviously, very fragile. When the balloon is initially being released, the first 800 to 1000 feet of altitude are the most important; the winds must be almost perfectly still. On the morning of the initial launch all was going well and according to plan, until, right at lift off, gusty winds compromised the balloon, and the launch was aborted.

Four days later, on Saturday, the Red Bull Stratos website announced that clear weather indicated the launch was possible the following morning. The clock started ticking to take off. Again I got up early to be ready for the 5 AM launch time. Again there were some weather and technical delays, and the actual launch didn't take place until close to five hours later.

Every aspect of this mission was exciting. Far more exciting than I imagined it was going to be. Even the initial liftoff was unnerving; watching the painfully thin balloon material flex and billow as it seemed to wrestle itself into the sky. As it slowly climbed into the air, the crane carrying the gondola rolled forward, matching the speed of the rising balloon, making sure to keep the gondola as close to center beneath the rising balloon as possible. Like the crew on the ground, I found myself applauding, when the two seemed to stabilize together, and then rise silently into the clear, blue heavens.

Here, like Baumgartner in the capsule, I settled in for the long ride up to "float" altitude. "Float" altitude is the point at which the balloon and the gases within it have expanded to maximum capacity and the balloon can rise no further. It is here that Baumgartner steps out, and jumps to the Earth. During the ride, the 84-year-old Kittinger, now retired, acts as the communicator between the ground crew and Felix in the capsule. Together they run over the checklist in preparation for the actual jump. During the practice run-through Baumgartner discovered a problem with the heating element in his windscreen. With temperatures outside the gondola anywhere from -18° to -100°F, keeping his windscreen clear will be tricky without the heating element. I think most would agree, being able to see clearly, as the ground is racing up at you at over 500 miles an hour, is probably a good thing.

After a little over two hours, the balloon arrived at its float altitude. Kittinger radioed Felix from the ground; this time they were going through the checklist for real. When they arrived at the point in the checklist where they check the windscreen heat, Felix said it was warm, but still seemed unsure as to whether it was working properly. The final steps of the checklist include the depressurization of the capsule, the pressurization of Baumgartner's suit, and the opening of the door.

Per instruction, Felix slid his seat back, and as the pressure between the interior of the capsule and the atmosphere outside equalized, the door of the capsule slid open. The glare of the sun outside was blinding, and when the slightly warmer air within the capsule hit the freezing cold air outside, clouds of condensation dramatically appeared and disappeared in the doorway. Baumgartner now slid the seat forward so that his feet were dangling outside the door of the gondola, his heels resting on the skateboard-sized ledge. He disconnected the oxygen tubes, and switched to his suit tanks. Then he unhooked the capsule umbilical, grabbed the two exterior hand rails, and pulled himself into a standing position.

As I listened with Felix to Joe Kittinger's final instructions, I was overcome with the emotion and the power of the moment. I was watching as a man stood, literally, on the ledge of his own life. He was about to leap forward into history, and to secure himself a legacy that will not soon be equaled or surpassed. It was an achievement that Felix Baumgartner had been working toward his entire life, and I wondered how much thought he had given to that during his 140 minute ride up. I could sense Baumgartner's anticipation, and perhaps his fear. You would have to be out of your mind to not be at least a little scared if you were in his shoes. His answers to Kittinger had become short as his attention became focused on the task at hand. There was tension in his responses, and his breathing had become more intense. I wondered what his heart rate must have been like in that moment, because I could hear mine pounding in my ears.

I was connected to Felix in this moment. I had been following him for a couple of years, and now more specifically over the last five days. I had risen early to be part of his adventure, and part of his achievement. I had ridden with him for over two hours, wondering what he was thinking, wondering what his family was thinking, and wondering what the rest of the world, like me, was thinking, as this amazing adventure finally reached its climax.

As Felix was pulling himself up in the doorway of the gondola I couldn't help but be terrified for him. I was afraid his parachute was going to come open prematurely, or that he was going to catch his shoulder in the doorway and fall awkwardly out into space. I was scared once he jumped he wouldn't be able to control his fall, that he would go into an uncontrolled spin, or maybe black out, and not be able to save himself. As a friend said, "I don't want to watch this guy die on TV”. I had to force myself not to look away. I told myself that I had come this far, and there wasn't any way that I wasn't watching Felix jump.

As Felix rose to his feet, so did I. As Joe Kittinger gave his final instructions, and placed Felix into the hands of his guardian angels, I felt a rush of terror, adrenaline, and sheer joy that brought tears to my eyes, and a shout from my lips. “Fly Felix! This is your moment! GODSPEED, MAN! GODSPEED!” I yelled.

Felix jumped. Well, he actually just sort of leaned out and fell quietly forward into space. The camera positioned above the door, looking straight down, captured Felix plummeting toward the ground. In the thin atmosphere he dropped like a stone. I was amazed at how quickly he accelerated. Within the 45 seconds Felix reached a speed of 834 miles an hour, Mach 1.24. In doing so he became the first human being to break the sound barrier without the use of vehicular power. At one point, about a minute and a half into the dive, Baumgartner started to flat spin, uncontrolled. It seemed that everyone watching, everyone on the ground, and everyone at mission control held their breath. But Felix, being an extremely competent skydiver, got the spin under control and then seem to fly towards the Earth. When he gained control of the fall, and spread his wings, a roar of applause went up from everyone.

During his descent, Felix continued to broadcast from the radio in his helmet. He mentioned that his windscreen was fogging up, and that he couldn't see at all. After four minutes and 19 seconds of free-fall, he deployed his parachute. This was, unfortunately, not long enough for him to break Kittinger’s record. Baumgartner glided safely to Earth, touching down lightly amidst the barren desert scrub-brush, and then fell softly to his knees in gratitude and relief.

Felix Baumgartner set the world records for Highest Altitude in a Balloon (128,100ft), Longest Free-Fall (119,000ft), Highest Speed by a Human through the atmosphere (Mach 1.24/834MPH), and Highest Skydive (127,000ft). All have yet to be verified for accuracy. These are all initial ground reading results.

Right before he jumped, Baumgartner made a short statement, “Hello everyone. The whole world is watching now. I wish you could see what I can see. Sometimes you have to be up really high to realise how small you are... I'm going over”.

It's not often that we are blessed with the opportunity to watch great things take place. Many times it's a matter of being in the right place at the right time. Other occasions can be anticipated; like watching an Olympic athlete accept the gold medal, or an actor receiving an Oscar. These are great moments in the lives of people who have worked hard to achieve this. But, it's something entirely different when we watch a person risk their very life, the well being of their families, and the happiness of the people around them, in order to help all of us come together, and progress. Watching Felix jump from the edge of space was just such an opportunity; one that will be remembered by anyone who witnessed it, for as long as they live. Congratulations to Felix Baumgartner, Joseph Kittinger, and the entire Red Bull Stratos team, on their amazing accomplishment.

http://www.redbullstratos.com/