BOISE, Idaho — BASE jumpers, by nature, just want to be free. ADVERTISING BOISE, Idaho — BASE jumpers, by nature, just want to be free. Their sport is inherently death-defying, growing at the bleeding edge of high-risk extreme sports, and
BOISE, Idaho — BASE jumpers, by nature, just want to be free.
Their sport is inherently death-defying, growing at the bleeding edge of high-risk extreme sports, and they tend to be hostile to any attempt at containing their passion.
In the U.S., their devil-may-care culture has been pushed out of urban areas, national parks and anywhere else where limits are imposed. Jumpers flock instead to the few remote areas hungry enough for tourist revenue to let them do their thing. Some say their outlaw status makes one of the world’s most dangerous sports even more risky, and needs to change.
“BASE jumping isn’t a crime,” argues Alan Lewis of Knoxville, Tenn., who was skydiving before he tried BASE jumping 10 years ago. “It’s not allowed in most places, so we’re faced with having to trespass or do jumps at night, which isn’t as safe. I think we’re kind of getting frustrated at the whole situation.”
BASE jumping — which stands for jumping not from planes, but from fixed locations including buildings, antenna, spans or Earth — has produced stunning online videos of people parachuting from buildings and wingsuit fliers zooming shockingly close to the treetops — mostly recorded outside the United States.
Many jumpers like the system in Europe, where BASE jumping follows some basic ground rules but jumpers assume all liability. This tolerance has opened new vistas, with jumps that have people soaring like never before, using parachutes and even wingsuits, gliding for miles over breathtaking landscapes.
In Kjerag, Norway, jumpers must pay a registration fee and undergo an inspection before leaping off dramatic 3,200-foot cliffs. In Switzerland, BASE jumpers are required to have third-party liability insurance for all jumps, and some Swiss locations also urge purchasing a “landing card” to compensate farmers for any damage to their properties.
With very few places to try their sport legally in the U.S., a go-to hub for thrill-seekers is the I.B. Perrine Bridge, stretching 486 feet above the Snake River as it winds through the Idaho desert. As cars whiz by, BASE jumpers from all over the world climb over the railing and step into this abyss, no permit, age limit or registration required.
Idaho law prohibits cities, counties and transportation officials from banning BASE jumping from bridges.
“If we did anything, like put up warning signs, we would actually increase our liability,” said Nathan Jerke, spokesman for the Idaho Transportation Department.
The Twin Falls Chamber of Commerce doesn’t track BASE jumping visitors or tourism dollars, but officials say hundreds visit the town annually to jump from the bridge. The money they spend at hotels, restaurants and other spots in the town of 46,000 have become a big part of the local economy.
But their sport is being scrutinized again, with five people dying so far this year in the United States, including 73-year-old James E. Hickey, who set his parachute on fire while jumping off the Perrine bridge this month. His second chute didn’t deploy.
Also this month, Carla Jean Segil, 26, was left dangling 500 feet above the Snake River after a gust of wind blew her parachute into the bridge. She hung in the air for 40 minutes until a Twin Falls rescue crew pulled her up through a manhole.
Days before that, wingsuit fliers Dean Potter and Graham Hunt illegally jumped from a cliff as night fell in Yosemite National Park, then slammed into the sides of a narrow notch in a ridgeline about 15 seconds into their flight. These three joined hundreds who have died BASE jumping around the world, according to unofficial fatality lists kept by enthusiasts.
