First 25 Jumps: The Mistakes That Hold Back Almost Every New Skydiver

There's a specific moment when skydiving stops being a course and becomes yours. It happens when you exit the aircraft with no instructor attached to your harness, with nothing but your logbook and your AFF-I's signature as proof that you're ready. It's a beautiful moment. It's also the moment a phase begins that no manual describes well: the first 25 solo jumps, where the technical foundation for everything that follows is either built — or warped.

I've watched hundreds of new skydivers pass through that phase. Working as a rigger at various DZs, I've seen the same patterns repeat with an almost touching consistency. This isn't a criticism — these are structural mistakes, nearly inevitable ones, born from the difference between jumping with someone watching you and jumping alone. The goal of this article isn't to lecture you — it's to hold up a mirror so you can recognize yourself in it and correct course sooner.

1. The Altimeter Is an Accessory, Not an Instrument

During AFF, the altimeter was central to everything. Your instructors pointed to it, had you check it in freefall, and taught you the key reference altitudes. Then you get your license, exit alone for the first time, and the altimeter becomes an object on your wrist that you glance at occasionally — when you think of it, when you're not too busy doing something else.

The problem is that time in freefall is compressed in a counterintuitive way. From an exit altitude of 4,000 meters with deployment at 1,200 meters, you typically have between 35 and 50 seconds of freefall depending on your weight and body position. That sounds like plenty — until you're actually out there. A new skydiver's brain is still busy managing posture, orientation, and stability, and the altimeter slides into the background. The classic result: deployment between 900 and 1,000 meters instead of the altitude specified by the school and current ENAC regulations, with reduced safety margins and, if there's a malfunction, less time to deal with it.

How to fix it: Build an altimeter-check routine that's automatic, not intentional. Every 5 seconds of freefall, eyes on the altimeter. Not when you remember — every 5 seconds. Make it a reflex. If you use an audible altimeter, set a warning at 1,500 meters as a deployment preparation reminder, not as a deployment signal. The audible is a backup, not your primary source of altitude information.

2. Exiting the Aircraft Without a Plan

During AFF the plan was simple: do what your instructor tells you. Solo, you have to build the plan yourself — and most new skydivers don't. They get on the plane, wait their turn, and exit. Full stop.

Exiting without a clear plan produces chaotic freefalls. You don't know what you want to do, so you don't do anything specific, so you don't learn anything specific. Worse: without a declared objective, it's impossible to run a useful debrief. What did you do wrong if you didn't know what you were trying to do?

The second problem with an unplanned exit is separation. On a busy load, exiting without having established an exit order and a separation plan from other jumpers is a real risk. You don't need to organize a formation — you simply need to know who exits before you, who exits after, and how long you wait before going.

How to fix it: Before every jump, write in your logbook — physically, with a pen — three things: exit altitude, the technical objective of the jump (e.g., "hold a stable heading for 20 seconds," "complete two controlled 360s"), and planned deployment altitude. Thirty seconds of work that turns a random jump into a measurable training unit.

3. Opening Unstable — and Not Knowing It

This is probably the mistake with the most concrete consequences for both equipment and safety. Opening in an unstable position — on your back, in a spin, with your body misaligned — doesn't necessarily mean you'll have a malfunction, but it significantly increases the probability of a hard opening, line twists, or both.

The typical new skydiver doesn't realize they're opening unstable because they don't yet have precise proprioception of their body position in the air. They know they "should" be stable, but they can't distinguish between "stable enough" and "actually stable." The difference announces itself on their back when the canopy opens.

There's also a mechanical aspect that's often underestimated: the pilot chute in hand — the one you're holding before you release it — shouldn't be held for too long in an inconsistent position. If you're in a spin and release the pilot chute, the bridle deploys asymmetrically and the opening suffers for it.

How to fix it: Establish a 3-second pre-deployment checklist: check altitude, bring your arms to a symmetrical position, confirm you're not in a spin. Only then pull. This isn't slowness — it's technique. With experience it becomes automatic and costs you no real time.

4. The Landing Pattern? "I'll Go Where the Wind Takes Me"

If there's one mistake that clearly separates a new skydiver from someone with 200 jumps, it's this one. The new skydiver gets under canopy, looks at where they're drifting, and lands wherever they end up — hoping it's somewhere near the pea gravel. The experienced skydiver flies a structured pattern: base leg, final approach, flare at the right moment.

The difference isn't just aesthetic. A poorly planned landing pattern leads to finals in downwind (with the wind at your back, ground speed much higher), conflicts with other canopies on approach, and flares executed too late or too early because the altitude isn't what was expected.

The pattern is planned under canopy, not in freefall. Many new skydivers reach deployment without having thought about the wind, the landing direction, or the windsock. By the time they realize they're downwind at 200 meters, it's already too late to correct without risking a low turn.

How to fix it: After every opening, the first check is the canopy (flying, no twists, slider down). The second is the wind: look at the windsock, look at the other canopies, orient your flight path. At 600 meters, start structuring your approach. Base leg at 300 meters, final at 150–200 meters into the wind. This isn't a rigid formula — it's a framework you adapt to conditions, not an improvisation you hope works out.

5. Jumping Too Soon on the Wrong Gear

April is the month when new skydivers who finished winter courses arrive at the DZ with enthusiasm at an all-time high and, often, a rig bought in a hurry from a Facebook group. The problem isn't buying gear early — it's buying the wrong gear, convinced that what they used in the course was too conservative.

The classic pattern: a new skydiver with 30 jumps buys a canopy with a wing loading of 1.3–1.4 lb/ft² because it "flies better," or picks up a used container with a reserve that hasn't had its periodic inspection — check the expiry dates with your certified rigger — or, the classic of classics, buys a rig without an AAD because "I'll sort that out later."

On that last point, I'll be direct: a rig without an AAD for a new skydiver is a choice with no technical or financial justification that holds up. A used AAD in good condition can be found at accessible prices at the time of writing — though it's always worth checking current used-market prices. The cost of not having one, in a scenario involving loss of consciousness or disorientation at low altitude, is obvious.

On the canopy: with fewer than 100 jumps, a wing loading above 1.0–1.1 lb/ft² is too much, according to standard community and instructor recommendations — this is not an ENAC regulation, but a widely shared best-practice guideline. Not because you're not capable, but because you don't yet have enough canopy flight time to manage unexpected behavior in variable winds or turbulence. The progression in wing loading exists for a physical reason, not to humble you.

How to fix it: Before buying anything, talk to your AFF instructor and a certified rigger. Not your course buddy who has 50 more jumps than you. A rigger can assess the condition of a used rig, the reserve's repack date, and the state of the container. Your instructor can tell you whether that canopy is appropriate for your level. These are conversations that cost nothing and can prevent serious problems.

6. Skipping the Debrief — or Doing It Wrong

During AFF, every jump had a structured debrief with your instructor. After getting your license, the debrief tends to become: "How'd it go?" — "Good!" — "Want to do another?"

The problem is that without a structured debrief, mistakes don't get corrected — they get consolidated. The human brain is good at remembering what went well and forgetting what went wrong. After 20 jumps with the same exit posture error, that error becomes your normal posture. Correcting an ingrained habit takes far more work than correcting a fresh mistake.

The debrief doesn't need to be a therapy session. Five minutes with a notebook is enough: what I wanted to do, what I actually did, where the gap was, what I'll change on the next jump. If you have video of the jump (GoPro, videographer), watch it immediately — not three days later. The muscle memory of a jump lasts only a few hours.

How to fix it: Treat every jump as a training unit with a complete cycle: plan → execution → debrief → correction. You don't need to be an Olympic athlete to apply this framework. You just need to be honest enough with yourself to admit when something didn't go as planned.

7. Isolating Yourself from the DZ Community

This is the least technical mistake on the list, but perhaps the one with the greatest impact on long-term progression. The new skydiver who shows up at the DZ, does their two jumps for the day, and drives home without talking to anyone is missing the most valuable resource a dropzone offers: other people's experience.

At every Italian DZ there are skydivers with 500, 1,000, 3,000 jumps. People who have already made every mistake on this list — and many others. Most of them are happy to talk, to watch a jump together, to give feedback on a body position or a landing pattern. You don't need to interrupt them during their 16-way formation jump, but between loads, at the bar, during packing — those conversations are gold.

There's a safety dimension to this as well: safety culture at a DZ is transmitted through osmosis. Being around experienced skydivers who talk about emergencies, procedures, and situations they've handled builds a mental library that you won't find in any manual. When you face an unexpected situation under canopy, your brain draws on that library.

How to fix it: Be present at the DZ even when you're not jumping. Watch others land, observe their patterns, ask questions. Offer to help with packing. Attend safety briefings even when you think you already know everything. You don't already know everything — nobody does.

In Summary: Progression Isn't Automatic

There's a widespread idea that experience accumulates automatically with jump numbers. It doesn't work that way. Experience accumulates when jumps are intentional, when mistakes are recognized and corrected, when gear is appropriate for your level, and when you make use of the community around you at the DZ.

Twenty-five well-executed jumps are worth more than fifty random ones. It's not a question of talent — it's a question of method. That method is built now, in your first solo jumps, when habits are still fresh and changeable.

If you're in this phase, consider booking a few coaching jumps with an instructor from your ENAC-certified skydiving school, even if you're technically no longer "in a course." It's not a sign of weakness — it's the smartest choice you can make for your next 200 jumps.