High above Southern California, John Miller, 77, checked his altimeter. “We’re two miles up,” he shouted over the plane’s engines. “This is when everybody starts to get quiet.”
Sure enough, the cabin hushed as we reached altitude. Sharron Fielding, 70, squeezed my hand; Ricki Thues, 71, checked that his Santa hat was tied tightly under his chin. “Everybody ready?” called Doug Wuest, 69, their unofficial coach. “Ready, set, go!”
Mr. Wuest rolled up the aircraft door and, along with three friends, leaned out of the DHC-6 Twin Otter — 12,500 feet up. Then they let go.
Twenty-four other seniors followed, hurtling headfirst through the sky at 180 miles per hour.
They had about 45 seconds to get into position, maneuvering into a three-ringed, lopsided snowflake, a formation that made the already daring jump even more challenging. Only two jumpers didn’t manage to attach in time.