“… I am in a strange state of mind: calm, and relaxed. I don’t care about the radio panic nor advice which seems irrelevant. Instead, my mind is fully occupied with a single thought: I have to warm up. I have to protect myself from the wind and rain and ice, wrap myself up in something, or else I will freeze. I release the frontal collapse and decide to deploy my reserve so I can pull in my paraglider and wrap it around me for some shelter. As I release, the vario goes crazy, peaking at 18 m/s. I tug my left A riser, the lines go slack, and I enter a spiral. I wrench at my reserve handle on my right side, lobbing it away into the dark gloom.
Then horror, pure fear: the reserve hangs limp, undeployed at the end of its lines, and my main canopy is out of control, cravatted on the left side. I’m still climbing at a horrendous speed, and so it takes ages for the reserve to deploy. Seconds later I hear a muffled crack and see it open and overtake my glider. Thank God! With a burst of adrenalin induced energy, I haul in the main canopy arm over fist and wrap it’s damp nylon around my shivering bare legs.
I radio to say I am alive, at 4500 m, under reserve parachute and still going up at 10 m/s. That was my last radio call. Boris told me later he was horrified with the unrelenting scream of the vario, contrasting with my voice, which was gentle. The radio yells back, “Where is Davor. Davor, call us back!” My dear friends, I think, I cannot call you now, because I need to preserve every particle of energy, which could make the difference between life and death. …”