Breathless
11.12.2018
Translation: machine translated
Pictures: Thomas Kunz
No sky, no jump, no freefall. There's no comparison. I'm about to test myself on the free-fall simulator at the Windwerk in Winterthur.
I take a look at the blower. It's noisy. I take another deep breath with my hands up. Rafael, the instructor, gives me an encouraging nod, I step through the door frame, the madness begins. I float and sway in the air. Want to know all about the dimensions and wind speeds of the Windwerk wind tunnel? I'll tell you about them a little later, they'll blow you away.
What I can tell you here is that the airflow causes a permanent smile. I then understand what it's like to be in freefall, without actually falling, in a parachute jump simulator. It's a bit absurd when you think about it, but downright brilliant. It's a bit like being in the sky, but on solid ground. A bit more than just skydiving for sissies, in fact. In this gigantic wind tunnel equipped with a safety net and a double floor, every movement leads to a direct reaction; fingers too far apart or an inappropriate head carriage and you can go from perfect balance to total loss of control.
In the middle of a storm
Rafael holds me when he needs to, and releases me as soon as I'm balanced in the air. In the wind tunnel, it's impossible to speak. But his signs are clear and his enthusiasm rubs off on me.
"I need to quickly understand how best to teach and keep my cool," he explains to me later. Everyone has to be able to get the most out of their flight: "What would be the point of me holding people all the time?"
About me.
None. The customer wants to fly, and it works. After a minute and a half, he grabs my leg to pull me out of this perfect whirlwind that's still reasoning in my head. I keep smiling. It's time to take stock. What am I doing here? Short flashback.
A downwind
A horde of journalists and a professional freestyle skier, Elias Ambühl, launch themselves into the enormous wind tunnel at the Windwerk in Winterthur, a real publicity stunt for the newly opened venue. Strong images and a celebrity are bound to attract attention: "Let's go", says the rider and helicopter pilot with a smile, accompanied by instructors who swirl like blueberries in a mixer around which curious journalists crowd. The bodies whiz by at high speed, are thrown upwards and fall back down again. They twirl and turn, but deliberately.
How does it work?
How does it work? Ah, yes, let's get to the facts! I wasn't given all the details, but just a few dimensions. The flight chamber is 17 metres high and 4 metres in diameter. Thanks to a few tricks of physics and a lot of power, this tunnel can reproduce wind speeds capable of reaching 280 km/h, all in a closed circuit.
.
Our preparation is quick: orientation exercises, learning gestures, overalls, earplugs, helmet and goggles. That's all there is to it. Child's play, especially when you consider that over-5s are allowed.
Take that, gravity!
Before I get started, a few questions remain along the lines of: for me, who's no beginner in the world of sport, what does it mean to confront gravity, how is it that Elias Ambühl floats in the air after just a few seconds, as if he'd been doing it all his life?
Am I capable of this too? Or am I going to smash my nose against the glass right now? And how do they get that plexiglass clean, anyway?
This stupid thought is going through my head.
This stupid thought crosses my mind until I take the plunge and let myself get caught up in the moment. The flight time is certainly not long, but it's not all rest. You have to apply the new knowledge you have acquired. Even for pros of the genre like Elias Ambühl, it's taxing.
Like the queen mother
The second flying session has me euphoric. I've got the basics down, I'm able to influence my orientation and turn, I'm waving my hands like the queen mother. I counter-brake slightly, keep my head up and savour the moment. Then Rafael beckons, the airflow amplifies, we're thrown upwards, spinning, falling back towards the ground, conquering the third dimension, a second charge of endorphins is released in my brain.
Some aches and pains no less
From the outside, this activity looks like a breeze, but make no mistake, it's sport. I didn't think, and I hate to admit it, but I had sore glutes for three days. The banana posture is unusual and, even if everything seems light during the flight, the muscles of the body are called upon. You have to maintain a certain amount of tension and keep adjusting. For me, these were completely new movements, and it's an experience I'd love to try again. Or offer. It's an activity for all those who already have everything, except perhaps a smile on their face.
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Header image: Wetsuit, earplugs, helmet, goggles: I'm ready for my first flight.
Michael Restin
Senior Editor
Michael.Restin@digitecgalaxus.chSimple writer and dad of two who likes to be on the move, wading through everyday family life. Juggling several balls, I'll occasionally drop one. It could be a ball, or a remark. Or both.
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