A Heightened Chance of Death

Bell and other advocates have so far failed in their push for legal BASE jumping because they've been unable to amend the sport's reputation as radical and hazardous. In 1999, 58-year-old Jan Davis made a daytime jump at Yosemite National Park in front of 150 people, a stunt designed to protest the National Park Service's ban on BASE jumping by proving it could be done safely. She wore a black-and-white-striped prison suit and borrowed an unfamiliar parachute that she assumed would be confiscated after the jump. It failed to deploy, and Davis fell more than 3,000 feet to her death.

At least one or two illegal jumps are made each week from the New River Gorge Bridge, said Bell, a West Virginian who once landed an illegal jump himself, only to be chased through the woods by park rangers. This year, a jumper hurled himself off a nearby bridge on the Friday before Bridge Day, broke his leg and spent the night at a nearby hospital.

"We can't keep looking stupid," Bell said. "We need Bridge Day to go off without a hitch if we want to grow the sport."

Bell arrived at the bridge early Saturday morning to find the clouds dissipating and the wind stilled. Two hundred vendors set up stands along a barricaded portion of Route 19 and sold everything from funnel cakes to hunting gear. The sun came out, and thousands of spectators crammed onto the bridge. They fought for positions along the railing so they could lean over and watch each jumper plummet. A 10-foot-high platform and a yellow diving board sat side-by-side at the center of the bridge, intimidating even the most experienced jumpers.

As 9 a.m. approached, Loughlin found a spot along the rail and turned to face the platform. Stephen Boyle, the first jumper of Bridge Day 2007, counted down the final 10 seconds and then dropped into the air. Loughlin gasped as she watched him fall.

"Pull the chute!" she said. "Pull. Pull. Pull. Come on!"

Loughlin squeezed the railing with both hands and closed her eyes. She only opened them again a few seconds later, when she heard the pop of Boyel's parachute releasing safely 400 feet below.

* * *

By 10:55 a.m., Loughlin had ascended the stairs to the top of the jumping platform. More than 300 people already had jumped, and now she stood third in line. Her throat felt dry. Could she please have a sip of water? Didn't anybody have water? Loughlin tilted her head skyward, surveyed the gathered crowd, inhaled and stepped toward the front of the platform. A hand reached out to stop her.

Injury delay at the landing area. Four-minute break.

Loughlin paced the 16-foot-long platform and let her mind wander. What if she accidentally flipped upside down after she jumped and her parachute tangled around her legs? What if the rental company had packed faulty gear? Or what if Loughlin couldn't direct the unfamiliar parachute to the landing area?

She heard her name announced over a loudspeaker -- Here's Heather, a first-time jumper!-- and two men ushered her back to the edge of the launch platform. As she looked down, Loughlin decided she would count to three in the air before she opened her parachute.