'I Skydived From Space, This Is What I Saw'

I stood on the step and, for a couple of seconds, I enjoyed the view. The sky was completely black, even though it was daytime. That's because I was in the stratosphere, and literally standing on top of the world.

It was completely silent. All I could hear was my own breathing; it was a spiritual moment. Then I heard my team in my ear piece. I'd disconnected from the oxygen tank on the ship system, so I only had 10 minutes of oxygen left to last me the 24-mile drop back to Earth. I took one step forward, and we made history.

On October 14, 2012, I ascended to the Earth's stratosphere in a helium balloon before freefalling back to Earth and parachuting into New Mexico. The jump was live-streamed on the internet and through 77 broadcasters, to an audience of many millions around the globe.

I first started skydiving when I was 16 years old. I always wanted to fly as a kid, but I couldn't afford to take flying lessons because they're so expensive. Skydiving was a lot cheaper, and when you jump out of an aircraft, it feels like flying—you feel free, like a bird.

I became a paratrooper in the Austin military, then started BASE jumping in 1996, which is where you skydive from fixed objects. I traveled the world, BASE jumping off famous landmarks like the Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur and the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro. It was very exciting, but after a while it felt like I was constantly repeating myself. I wanted to sign up for something different.

A lot of skydivers look up to the sky, wanting to go higher or to break their records. In 2005, I was approached about the idea of skydiving from the Earth's stratosphere. I talked to my friend Art Thompson, who is a scientist and a very smart guy, and we started to organize and assembled a small team.

For the next seven years, my mind was constantly focused on our project, Red Bull Stratos. We'd have three weeks of intense training and testing, and then have a couple of weeks off; but you couldn't really enjoy those weeks off because you were still thinking of the next big task. It was very energy-consuming and you didn't really enjoy life anymore because there was such a big mission that you had to accomplish.

On the day itself, I had a lot of worries. Were we going to get off the ground? We had had a balloon failure the week before, because of bad weather, and we'd had to cancel. That fear stays with you, as we only had one balloon left so if we destroyed that one too, we would have to call it off for six months to build another balloon.

Once we were off the ground, I felt a lot more relaxed but then I worried about whether we were getting enough altitude. And then, when we reached the height, I worried about whether I was going to be able to open the door, as the door could freeze up at that altitude. That would mean going back down in the capsule, which would have been way more dangerous than the skydive.

But once that door was open, all my worries were gone. There were so many things I had to do, there was no time to think about other things. I was focused.

When I met my childhood hero Neil Armstrong at a dinner in 2013, I asked him: "What did you think when you stepped foot on the moon?" And he said: "I didn't think about stepping foot on the moon. I was working." He had a full book with a lot of work that he had to accomplish, so he was just ticking things off, step by step. That's how I felt, too.

Every astronaut I've talked to has said that if you see the world from where they have seen it, you become very humbled and you realize how fragile the world really is. I couldn't see the whole of Earth—you have to be really far out or on another planet to see it as completely round—but I looked down and could see some details, including mountains. I tried to see where mission control was, but I was too far away.

I couldn't stand there for long and enjoy the moment because I needed to make sure I had enough oxygen. There was always the potential for my parachute to open too early by accident, meaning it would take me longer to go down. You can't take that risk. Your oxygen is the only thing keeping you alive.

Once I stepped off the capsule, I accelerated really fast, and reached speeds of 843.6 mph. But, as it's almost a vacuum up there, I couldn't tell. My suit wasn't flapping around me, there was no air streaming around my head, there was no noise, and no objects were passing me by, so I had no indication of speed. It was very weird. The Earth wasn't coming towards me fast, either, because I was so far away. It wasn't slow motion, but it also wasn't fast: it was somewhere in-between.

In the vacuum, the skydiving skills that I had developed for so many years didn't really work because there was no air. It's like sailing without wind. But at about 90,000 feet, I could feel the air getting thicker, which slowed me down. That was the first moment where I enjoyed my skydive, as I regained control and was able to stabilize myself from flat-spinning. Everything was safe again, so I could enjoy the view. I was free-falling for a couple more minutes, and then I pulled my parachute.

Pulling the parachute marked the end of my freefall; it was over. It was a relieving moment because it was the first time I was allowed to open my visor and breathe normal air. I had been in the suit, with my visor down, for six or seven hours, so it felt good to be back in the outside world.

I remember the moment I landed in New Mexico. I felt like I had been in prison for seven years and now the prison doors were open again and I was walking free. The intense seven-year project was over and now I could finally focus on something else. It was a relief.

After I landed, our specialist took my record verification device and plugged it into a computer, to see how fast I had traveled. It took him about 10 minutes to download the data, and then he confirmed that I had broken the speed of sound. I was very happy when I heard that.

It really mattered to me to be the first human to break the speed of sound in freefall. Since I was a little kid, I've always looked up to people who left a footprint on this planet. I called them "map makers"—people who drew a map so others could follow. I always wanted to be one of them but I never knew what my map could be, what kind of footprint I could leave on this planet. But now I think I have left a footprint.

This has been confirmed by a lot of young people, who were five or six years old back in 2012 and are now teenagers. They still send me emails and letters saying, "Thank you so much for what you did. This is our personal moon landing." I'm not saying our accomplishment is the same as the moon landing—the moon landing was way more complicated and a way bigger accomplishment—but from an emotional standpoint, I definitely think it's comparable.

I believe big dreamers always win. This time 10 years ago my team and I were considered to be big dreamers. We were the underdog, and a lot of people did not believe in us. But we taught them a lesson. And now, a decade later, it's time to enjoy what we have accomplished.

The documentary Space Jump: How Red Bull Stratos Captured the World's Attention, is now available to watch on Red Bull TV.

All views expressed in this article are the author's own.

As told to Katie Russell.