I DRIVE towards Topcliffe airfield, near Thirsk, in bright sunshine. Clear blue skies over North Yorkshire promise a good day's jumping.

My appointment is at the Merlin Parachute Club, on the fringe of the airstrip. The busy club, which operates at weekends, deals with parachutists from the intrepid first-timer to formation skydivers.

Bill Rule, from York, runs the show and has invited me to make a tandem jump. No bikes involved - you are strapped to an instructor and skydive together from 10,000 feet.

Your tandem master pulls the ripcord while you enjoy the view, and the sensation of zero to 140mph in 10 seconds.

"The wind speed is 20 to 22mph which is too high for our trainees but you will be able to jump with Dave Luke, an experienced instructor," Bill tells me as we observe the near-horizontal orange windsock.

A flight up to 10,000 feet in a twin-propeller aircraft is called a lift and the rest of the crew are waiting for me.

But before the jump, the form-filling. I become a provisional member of the British Parachute Association and jot down, with growing unease, my next of kin and age.

Getting kitted up takes 10 minutes and involves slipping on a lightweight jump-suit, climbing into a harness which fastens tightly around your shoulders and crotch, and picking up goggles and gloves.

Dave talks me through the parachute opening. "This is the parachute release," he says, pointing to a red tab.

"In case your head jolts back and knocks me out, the cyprus will activate the reserve chute automatically at a set height and speed," he explains. This microchip gadget will, if necessary, save us as we hurtle towards the ground.

Other passengers with a one-way ticket to 10,000 feet are Paul Hollow and Andy Wright of the University of York Parachute Club, and Merlin's chief instructor and cameraman Dave Emerson. Altogether, nine of us settle back for the lift.

You may be wondering by now if I am nervous.

Nervous, yes; terrified, no. And I try to keep it that way during the 18-minute ascent by firing a series of questions down Dave's ear hole. Do you get wet if you parachute into a cloud? Is the thin air up here a problem? Is it worse than a bungee jump? The answer to all of them is no.

Higher and higher the aircraft spirals to the drop-off point. The needle on Dave's wrist altimeter creeps towards the number 10.

The spirit among the crew is cheerful and jokes are shared. Then the roar of the engines subsides as the pilot throttles back. We are over the drop zone, 1.9 miles high. All out.

Paul throws open the hatch through which we have climbed on board and a panoramic view of North Yorkshire in dazzling sunshine appears before us. The air smells pure. The temperature is minus 10 centigrade.

The formation skydivers go first. Three climb out and hold on to the side of the aircraft before letting go. In an instant they are blown away like leaves.

With Dave strapped to my back I shuffle on my backside towards the doorway. I let my legs dangle over the edge, try not to look down and ...

Earlier, Dave had given me precise instructions about how to freefall. It's quite simple: fold your legs at the knees, cross your arms, then extend them as you "float" through the air.

Instead, I was tumbling wildly with my eyes shut tight, and was considering screaming as my internal organs were subjected to massive acceleration.

The video of all this shows Dave kicking my legs into place before we assume the correct position: me underneath, even managing to smile at the camera; Dave on top.

It takes only 30 seconds to get half way back to earth. I was suddenly jolted as the chute opened. Dave Emerson hurtled past at more than 100mph. He was going ahead to film our landing.

The second half of the descent is spent steering towards the drop zone and taking in wonderful views. We landed on our feet and bang on target, adjacent to the windsock.

Wonderful, amazing - superlatives don't really do it justice. I was beginning to understand why parachutists come here all year round to experience what Bill Rule calls the ultimate white knuckle ride.

He can be contacted at the Merlin Parachute Club on 01845 578971 or mobile 0961 818176.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.