Flash flood.
Massive Falls That Weren’t Fatal, From 220 to 33,300 Feet 
220 feet: Leap Off a Bridge
While on a class trip this past March, 17-year-old Luhe Vilagomez jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge—just for kicks. Unlike 98 percent of those who make that plunge, he lived (to brag about it). A surfer picked him up, and they paddled to shore together.
9,500 feet: Parachute Fail
In 1991, skydiver Jill Shields fell to earth when her parachute failed to deploy. She landed on wet ground, where rescuers found her conscious and able to talk. She left a foot-deep impression in the mud.
12,000 feet: Double Parachute Fail
Michael Holmes, a resident of Jersey, England, was skydiving in New Zealand in 2006 when both his main chute and backup failed to deploy. He crashed into a dense thicket of blackberry bushes, sustaining only a punctured lung and a broken ankle.
22,000 feet: Fighter Plane Ditch
In 1943, Alan Magee, a WWII Air Force gunner, jumped out of his plunging B-17 without a chute. Losing consciousness, he crashed through the skylight of France’s St. Nazaire train station. He had a broken leg and ankle, a nearly severed right arm, and 28 wounds from the glass.
33,330 feet: Commercial Jet Crash
Vesna Vulović, a Serbian flight attendant, holds the Guinness world record for the longest fall. She plummeted in a piece of fuselage when a 1972 flight she was on exploded in midair. Vulović suffered a fractured skull, two broken legs, three broken vertebrae, and a broken pelvis but eventually recovered fully.
In 1982, Philippe Petit helped open dedication ceremonies at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. Mr. Petit has been artist-in-residence at the church and keeps a small office there above the nave.
In the early 1970s, a small band of young rock climbers, decked out in bandanas, shades and cut-offs, came together and blew open the conventions of climbing. Dubbing themselves the Stonemasters, these now legendary adventurers established techniques that allowed for some of the most spectacular climbs to be done with a minimum of apparatus. Beyond their unsurpassed skills as climbers, the Stonemasters embodied a lifestyle that made a massive impact on 1970s youth culture across the world. The character or myth of the Stonemaster caught on like wildfire, spreading from coast to coast and across the ocean, and spawning Stonemasters everywhere. In The Stonemasters, Dean Fidelman’s thrilling archival photos reveal for the first time an era defined by risk, rebellion, and camaraderie. Tales from original Stonemaster John Long and others recall the highs and lows of the early days—a magical time in the annals of adventure sports.
Stephan Siegrist, Profi Alpinist & Basejumper
Walking out onto a ledge of a 900ft tower (via)
World Record Highest Dive
