
I’m nervously standing in the doorway of the wind tunnel at Skyventure Arizona, a state-of-the art indoor skydiving centre in Eloy, Arizona, just an hour’s drive south of Phoenix.
Only one step separates me from 400 horsepower winds that will launch my human flight experience and simulate free fall speeds of up to 240 kilometres per hour.
The centre is great for adrenaline junkies but it’s also perfect for people with a fear of heights (or of jumping out of planes) who want to experience the thrill of flying in a more controlled environment.
Experienced divers also use the centre for training and for perfecting new routines before taking them to the skies.

Everything is silent. Well, that’s not really true. When I suited up, I took out my cochlear implant processor that I rely on to hear. Without it I’m profoundly deaf. I find myself enveloped in a blissfully safe cocoon of utter silence.
For everyone else, it’s mind-numbingly loud. Four fans at the top of the building suck air up in the flight chamber that I’m about to step into, creating a constant and overwhelmingly loud wind storm.
Everyone wears earplugs in the chamber, including Ray who will be right at my side the whole time. He’ll use simple hand signs that everyone uses to communicate inside since yelling is pointless.

So here I am, at the entrance to this round wind tunnel in the middle of the desert. The tunnel is about 12 feet across and the walls are all glass, making it possible for spectators to see me flub up from all 360 degrees.
The bottom of the room is a grid of safety netting and I can see the camera guy in a darker room through one of the windows (you can get a video so you can review your technique later).
Next to the camera room, there’s also a full-length mirror so I can check out my stellar technique for myself. An easy-to-see digital timer is set to count down the seconds remaining on my turn once I start.

Ray smiles reassuringly at me and I read his lips as he tells me to jump in. I take a deep breath and do just that, throwing caution to the wind (literally) and plunge myself forward with abandon.
As I jump, I feel Ray’s firm hands grab onto the side tabs of my nylon flight suit and pull me into the centre of the room.
Wind slams into my body, gobsmacking me with a force harder than I’d anticipated. Ecstatically, I realize that I’m flying, not falling, but Ray calmly steadies me and guides my technique.
I gulp, trying to focus, and follow his signals to align my body properly, but I’m quickly overwhelmed by the suffocating air that clamps my mouth shut and makes breathing a monumental effort.
I panic and wave my hands, hoping he’ll get me out of here. Immediately, Ray pulls me down and thrusts me out the door to the safe calm of the waiting area.
I sigh. I’m mad at myself for ending my turn early. My heart is pounding but I’m grinning and I desperately want to go again, I just want to be able to breathe while I’m doing it.
A few minutes later, it’s my turn again—my chance to redeem myself. I explain to Ray that I want to go but felt like I couldn’t breathe.
His response? “Scream. Scream as loud as you can.”
I nod and assume my position in the doorway once again. Another deep breath and I jump in, screaming at the top of my lungs. I feel calmer this time—maybe because as long as I’m screaming, I’m also breathing.
Ray slowly loosens his grip and lets go of me. My body floats against the wind and gravity pulls me downwards a bit but Ray gently lifts me up before I touch the safety net.
As I work to align my body again, I close my eyes and realize—I’m flying, really flying.
Prices for adults start at $50 (kids $40) and that includes flight training class, two one-minute flights, one-on-one coaching with instructor, all necessary gear and a t-shirt.
Check out this video we found on YouTube to get a sense of what it's like inside the wind tunnel.
Pamela Findling is a freelance writer in New Westminster, British Columbia. Whenever she can, she enjoys checking out new destinations in her camper van with her husband, son and dog.
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