BASE Jumping Tallest Crane in Georgia 🇬🇪 (228m)

Jumping the Tallest Crane in Georgia (228m)

Batumi, a Georgian city sitting on the edge of the Black Sea, doesn’t get much love from most people I know.

It’s a new city. Almost a mini-Dubai. It doesn’t have the authenticity that the capital, Tbilisi, has. But at night, with all the buildings lit up, it feels futuristic. Then underneath that you’ve got this deep-rooted, hardened, Soviet-esque attitude that I love about Georgia.

And the sea. Seeing the horizon every day does something good to the mind.

This is not the first time my blood line put in work on the edge of the Black Sea.

In 1854 my great (x3) grandfather, Private Peter Huddlestone of the 17th Foot, crossed this sea in a wooden troopship during the Crimean War. He fought in the siege of Sevastopol and was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal, one below the Victoria Cross, for outstanding bravery.

The records say that on 17 February 1855, in the trenches at close quarters, he was shot in the head: the round tore through his right temple, smashed his skull and took an eye, but somehow missed the vital parts of his brain. He survived, lived to see Sevastopol fall on 8–9 September 1855, and after 14 years and 213 days of service was finally discharged.

A few generations on, my chapter on the Black Sea isn’t fought on land but on buildings.

I became nocturnal. First coffee at 4 p.m. I’d pack my parachute by the water, talk with Georgians, Turks and Kazakhs. Then, at night, I’d become the shadow, dressed in black, moving through the city and carving up the skyline.

This one: the tallest crane in Georgia, 228 metres, automatically went on the list.

I enter the site at night… crawling through a deep dug out I am met by Georgian frogs croaking at me. I don’t like them… I prefer hot-blooded animals like dogs. Through the dirt I found my stairwell and stepped quietly and cautiously as a I heard the echoes of Georgian nighttime workers footsteps echoing across the surrounding walls.

Over looking Tbilisi there is a statue of a woman hold a sword and a bowl of wine. “Kartlis Deda” (Mother of a Georgian)

The metaphor is: the wine comes to greet those who come as friends, in the right hand a sword for those who come as enemies. The Georigans live by this metaphor, they take it seriously! I love it. It’s a great principle to live by. But considering In this circumstance I am the intruding, I do not think the security would offer my wine, I think they would be more inclined to try and smack me in the mouth… which is of course totally fair enough! Fair game. I like it.

So I move with stealth, constantly aware.. senses heightened.

I climb high into the building. High enough that I’m no longer in the main detection zone. Up here I start to hear the constant sound of the waves rolling in and out. The sound becomes its own mantra. A calming melody that enhances everything I’m doing.

I cross from the building onto the crane and set myself up. I take in the view.

The sun starts to rise over the mountains in the distance. Below, I watch all the funny drunken dynamics playing out on the beach, people staggering home, arguing, laughing, collapsing into the sand.

I walk the jib, taking in the whole scene, until I reach the end. Then I jump.

I really enjoy the long flight through the sky, parallel to the Black Sea. No major obstacles to worry about. Just a moment to sit back into the harness and soak up all the information around me.

Consequently, I land next to a Georgian! A man who was watching the sea, meditating on life, either up early or had not slept yet. He spots my franticness in quickly packing my parachute away and automatically goes on stag to watch out for police!

Classic Georgian hospitality here.

They have your back.

Great humans.

A success ✅

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