Alex and I arrived at the exit for Leschaux at 1930 in the haute-savoie region of France about an hour South West of Geneva. We had jumped the exit the evening prior and had good flights with good conditions, we planned to fly the same line again. Conditions seemed optimal and the hike is short, about an hour so we both felt physically fresh. We took our time gearing up and talked over what line we would fly. It was decided that we would fly through the tree gate which is located on piece of terrain well below the exit and roughly 600 meters horizontally from the exit. Usually you must dive with considerable force to be able to split the gate, which is substantial in size, about 30ft across. Alex asked if I could shoot outside video and I said yes.
We talked over which directions we would push and readied ourselves to exit. Alex gave the count and our exit went smoothly. I was immediately positioned about 40ft above and to the left of Alex and was planning to fly over the terrain and trees viewing him mostly from the overhead vantage. I wanted to remain higher on his left as the terrain to be flown over is a fairly thin ridge which juts out from right to left and slopes down from the right with the most viable out being to the left, affording you more altitude over terrain the farther left you go. As soon as Alex started flying (3 Seconds) he was not pointed directly at the gate, instead flying at a slight oblique angle to the left of it. Within a few seconds of flying I made the assumption that he did not like his sight picture and was opting to go completely around the terrain feature, as it is by no means a mandatory obstacle if you choose early enough to detour around it to the left. I held my position but noticed Alex’s head turned to the right looking at the gate. At this point though (8 seconds), I no longer felt we could safely divert from our flight path safely and believed that Alex was thinking the same thing when he suddenly banked hard to the right and again to the left in order to set up on the gate. The turns caused him to lose speed and altitude and our gap was now one hundred feet or more with me slightly ahead of and above him. As I watched I could easily tell that he was flying at a higher and higher AoA by the second. A few seconds out from the gate I could see that he had reached a critical AoA and a moment later I saw that the suit was stalling and his glide decreased drastically. At this point he would have been very hard pressed to execute a turn to the left towards the out. As I watched, Alex entered into a stall and veered left, causing him to impact a tree on the left side of the gate. As I flew around the terrain I witnessed him exiting the tree without his helmet and impacting the grass on the steep slope behind it. He slid on his back until the terrain cliffed out and he fell another several hundred feet into the forest below. I was in shock and kept my eyes on him until he impacted a second time, hoping to see him pitch. He did not and I momentarily came to the realization that I had slowed considerably while watching him and so went to the task of getting my speed and GR back as the second half of the jump does not have a large margin over terrain while transporting back to the LZ.
After landing I contacted the PGHM, they responded immediately and were on scene within the hour, recovering Alex before nightfall.
Alex Sonnenberg was a good friend, he touched many people in his 38 years, was an amazing person and an American Hero. He is survived by his Wife Amina, his parents, sister and brothers. He will be sorely missed.
Lessons learned:
1.)If you cannot attack terrain confidently and with speed, abort immediately and seek altitude. There is no room for emotion or ego in this decision matrix. Physics is too fair.
2.) Don’t get caught in the moment. As Miyamoto Musashi writes in his book “The five rings”. You must meditate and mentally rehearse your immediate actions and prefabricate thought processes to fall back on in the wake of witnessing something like this. Had the line been more challenging, my disengagement from what I was doing for those several seconds could have killed me as well. Once I saw Alex impact the tree and slide over the edge I should have been immediately back to the task of flying.
3.) Plan your dive, dive your plan. I don’t know why Alex decided to fly at the oblique angle if he intended to go for the gates.
4.) Be able to communicate. Learn phrases in the language of the land you are jumping in. I was lucky to be able to speak enough French to ask for help and ensure that the helicopter rescue was able to locate Alex before nightfall. Have phrases written and laminated and have the appropriate rescue numbers in your cell phone AND on the laminated card. Phones die or are sometimes broken or have no service. You may have to seek a landline in a remote area or village. Have a device that can get you coordinates to relay to rescuers. A sat beacon is always a good idea as well. If you have the excuse that you cannot afford a burner phone or international service for your vacation, you should rethink BASE.
5.) You're not alone in this game of BASE. We BASE jump for ourselves. It is a wholly selfish act. The very least we can do is to pack our parachutes diligently for our Mothers. Take our time and pick a safe line for our Fathers. Assess the conditions and walk off if necessary for our Brothers and Sisters. And fly with a margin of error for the friends we jump with to keep them from the horror and pain of witnessing our demise. As Douggs would say “Who’s the best BASE jumper in the world? The one having the most fun!” Take it slow.
I am guilty of violating all of these suggestions I just put forth….but I wish I hadn’t and will do my best never to again.
Alex, I love you brother. Thank you for everything. Until that day.