On this last trip up north, one of my favorite events took place. A few of us gathered by the fire, sheltered from the falling snow in the comfort of the cabin, providing the perfect conditions for minds to contemplate things. The conversation did not disappoint.
You may notice a stark absence of our typical photos added for context.. this is not by mistake. This is the perfect opportunity to let your own minds eye create for you a vision based off the story itself. I will come back to this later… but for now, let your mind see what it wants.
I’m not sure how the conversation started, but where I remember my interest being piqued, was regaling stories from my skydiving days. My home dropzone was Skydive Twin Cities in Baldwin Wisconsin. Not too far from the border with Minnesota, it boasts of rolling green fields of corn, alfalfa, and soybeans, depending on the years crop rotation. Fields lined with patches of oak, maple, pine, and birch, provide for spectacular colors come fall. Of course there is the occasional feed lot or pasture filled with milk cows… It is Wisconsin after all. The landscape views are less important than the immediate surroundings of the grass airstrip and hangars that make up the hub of the business. Out back of the hangar was rather eclectic collection of camper trailers and RV’s that seemingly permanent patrons as well as employees called home for the weekends or entire seasons. It was memory of what took place within the confines of the cramped space within one of these rolling shelters that sparked our conversation in my tiny cabin in the woods.
I’m almost certain in reflection that the subliminal similarities of the cabin and the camper combined with the unfavorable weather outside was the spark for the nature of our conversation. I can remember loading up the truck after work on a Wednesday and driving from North Saint Paul to Baldwin under heavy clouds and the pitter patter of rain on the windshield, knowing as certain as the wipers went swish, that there was zero chance I would jump from a plane that day. Nonetheless, I would make the trek, knowing that what awaited me was on par with the rush of air past my face as I plummeted toward the earth at over one hundred miles an hour.
I would park in the grass lot, grab my bag and run… in my minds eye, looking much like an NFL running back heading towards the endzone dodging puddles as if they were defensive linemen intent on seeing me get acquainted with the ground. In reality, I probably looked like a teenage TikTok dancer trying to show off her new moves to her three followers. Nearing the camper, I would be greeted with muffled sounds of laughter and conversation pouring through the aged lace curtains backlit by tiny incandescent bulbs powered by a 12V car battery.
As I pulled on the cast aluminum latch of the thin door, I’d be greeted by friends huddled around a 70’s styled laminate covered plywood table. Whatever topic interrupted by my presence was put on hold while I reached for a martini glass and filled it from the giant metal shaker filled with either Stolichnaya or Grey Goose, depending on the distance from payday. I would find an available place to rest, and after exchanging pleasantries, would ask “so what are we talking about?”. Either Dan or Neil, two good friends who took me under their wing when I started jumping, would respond with a hypothetical. It didn’t matter what the scenario was, we discussed it as though we were MIT professors eating lunch in the faculty lounge.
As my friends and I sat around the fire, I explained that I loved that the topics (most often skydiving centered) provided ample opportunity to imagine, to contemplate, to wonder. We had been surrounded by the thin tin walls of yesteryear living out it’s last days providing shelter to people who wouldn’t eat a meal or two in order to pay for one more jump, let alone buy a three dollar tube of caulking to fix the little leak in the roof over the decommissioned commode that now doubled as a closet. There were no shelves of encyclopedias, no desks with laptops, tablets, or iPhones. Hell, I was incredibly excited and privileged to own the newest technology in cell phones called Nextel – Direct Connect. Google really wasn’t a household word yet, let alone a verb.
We couldn’t search for information, facts, or instructions. We couldn’t run to Youtube to teach us how to do something. We had to rely on our education to get us the answers… and we had to show our work. The tools of the trade were a pad of paper, a pencil, and the art of bullshitting. If you were good with them, you could convince the others that you had a lock on the idea… especially if you were good at bullshitting.
One of my friends asked me what sort of topics we would discuss at the dropzone. Out of thin air, I proffered a scenario with some questions to contemplate; “If you took a cat, and tossed it from a plane would it land on it’s feet and survive?” I told my friend that the questions would be more specific than that… doing our best to account for all the variables. Ultimately, my skydiving friends and I might end up doing a little math, or perhaps questioning if anyone had seen a stray cat nearby and how difficult it would be to smuggle it onto a plane for a practical application with a definitive answer. DISCLAIMER: No cats were harmed in the making of this story… except for one who may have taken a bottle rocket to the rear in the great Independence day fireworks battle of Baldwin in 2000.
Unlike the conversations of twenty-five years ago, even in remote woods of Northern Minnesota, if I placed my phone in the corner of the cabin window, I could get one bar of LTE signal… enough to ask AI my question. Below is the question, and Grok’s (XAI) response: (feel free to skip the math and see the surprising answer).
If an 8lb American short haired cat was dropped from a 1951 De Havilland Beaver at cruising speed, at 13,500 feet elevation (actual) above Baldwin Wisconsin with a 5mph tail wind, how long would it take to reach terminal velocity, how far would it travel in miles, how far would it fall in feet, would the cat be able to right itself before landing, and would it survive the fall?
Let’s dive into this scenario with an 8-pound American Shorthair cat dropped from a 1951 De Havilland Beaver at cruising speed, 13,500 feet actual elevation above Baldwin, Wisconsin, with a 5 mph tailwind. The phrase “13,500 feet elevation (actual)” suggests we’re dealing with the plane’s altitude above sea level, so we’ll adjust for Baldwin’s ground elevation (~1,200 feet) to get the fall height. Here we go!
Setup and Assumptions
The Beaver’s cruising speed is ~120 mph (176 ft/s). Baldwin sits at ~1,200 feet above sea level, so if the plane’s at 13,500 feet elevation (above sea level), the cat’s drop is 13,500 – 1,200 = 12,300 feet above ground. The cat inherits the plane’s 120 mph horizontal speed, plus a 5 mph (7.33 ft/s) tailwind, totaling 127.33 mph (186.33 ft/s) horizontally at the start. Vertically, it begins at 0 ft/s, accelerating toward terminal velocity.
Time to Reach Terminal Velocity
A cat’s terminal velocity—where drag equals gravity—is ~60-100 mph due to its low 8-pound mass and high surface area when spread out. Let’s use 80 mph (117 ft/s) as a midpoint. From rest, it accelerates at 32.2 ft/s² vertically, reaching 117 ft/s in ~10-15 seconds (based on cat fall data, hitting it within ~1,000-1,500 feet). In 12 seconds, it falls ~1,152 feet (average speed 0 to 117 ft/s = 96 ft/s × 12 s). So, 12 seconds is a solid estimate for reaching terminal velocity.
Horizontal Distance Traveled (in Miles)
Total fall time determines horizontal travel. After 12 seconds (1,152 feet), 12,300 – 1,152 = 11,148 feet remain, fallen at 117 ft/s = ~95 seconds. Total time = 12 + 95 = 107 seconds. The cat starts at 186.33 ft/s horizontally (plane’s 176 ft/s + tailwind’s 7.33 ft/s), slowing due to drag toward 7.33 ft/s. Assuming a linear drop (a simplification), average speed = (186.33 + 7.33) ÷ 2 = 96.83 ft/s. Distance = 96.83 × 107 = 10,361 feet ≈ 1.96 miles. Real drag would curve this, likely landing it between 1.5-2 miles, but 1.96 miles is our working figure.
Vertical Distance Fallen (in Feet)
From 13,500 feet above sea level to Baldwin’s ~1,200-foot elevation, the cat falls 12,300 feet to the ground.
Can the Cat Right Itself?
Yes, absolutely. Cats’ righting reflex—driven by their vestibular system—flips them feet-down in under a second. Even with a 120 mph horizontal start, 107 seconds of fall time (and initial tumbling) gives it plenty of time to stabilize. It’s landing on its paws, no doubt.
Would It Survive?
At 80 mph (117 ft/s) vertically, survival’s possible. Cats’ flexible skeletons and shock-absorbing legs shine here—high-rise fall studies (e.g., 1987 New York data) show survival from extreme heights, often better when relaxed at terminal velocity. The horizontal speed (~7.33 ft/s by impact) adds little to the vertical force. A soft landing (grass, snow) near Baldwin gives 50/50 odds or better; pavement cuts them sharply. Injuries like fractures are likely, but with luck and vet care, it could pull through.
Summary
- Time to terminal velocity: ~12 seconds.
- Horizontal distance: ~1.96 miles.
- Vertical fall: 12,300 feet.
- Right itself?: Yes, easily.
- Survive?: Maybe—50/50 with a soft landing.
This cat’s got a shot at strutting away from its Beaver exit—nine lives indeed!
It took all of a few seconds for Grok to respond with the above answer. Amazing right? Or is it? Back before the internet, Google, or AI, we were left to wonder. Full of wonder… Wonderful. I’m posing the question, with all the knowledge of the world at our fingertips, what have we gained? What have we lost? With a few keystrokes, I was able to provide a much more probable answer than any bullshit I could come up with on my own – regardless of how awesome my bullshit is. What was there to lose? Simply, the engagement of conversation. Potentially hours of bond building conversation, interpersonal discoveries about each other, and the laughter… oh the enjoyment of folly dreamed up when no one can prove you right or wrong… gone to a few keystrokes. Not to mention the struggle of the moral dilemma; Is it ethical to toss a cat from an airplane to gain knowledge?
What was gained? Equal is the potential for new subjects, learning, and discovery of things we may not have considered on our own. I truly am amazed at the ability to have the sum total of the worlds knowledge at my fingertips. But it’s a cautionary tale – he who increases his knowledge, increases his sorrow.
There’s an old hymn by John Jacob Niles titled “I wonder as I wander out under the sky” that leads me to believe that a large part of our humanness comes from not knowing, but seeking the truth… Doing the math, showing our work. I think it’s the work in seeking answers that gives value in the answers, not necessarily the answer itself… That is unless it’s Thanksgiving morning, and you can’t remember how long to cook a 30 pound turkey… in that case, thank God for google.
There is merit in both wandering and wondering. Both are signs of discovery, contemplation, and ultimately relationship. Relationship between us and our world, between us and our maker, and between each other.
A few follow up questions:
When I described the camper at the dropzone, did you imagine it? Was your imagination as real as real life? In your mind, what did the carpet smell like? What did the table feel like? If you were to go to google and search photos of campers would they look like the image in your mind? That’s the beauty of wonder… it gives our minds the freedom to fill in the blanks. If I had posted a photo of a camper at the end of this blog, would you be disappointed? I’ll leave you with your perfect image and not sully it with what the internet has to offer.
Remember – not all those who wander are lost… or wonder.