Hello! Bulgaria Magazine
October 2013
I’m at the airfield near Ihtiman, eagerly waiting to meet one of Bulgaria’s most experienced skydiving instructors. I imagine a man of about 50, calmly emerging from behind an airplane. But as I approach the hangar, something yellow streaks past me—a skydiver in a yellow jumpsuit and parachute lands at a breathtaking speed of about 120 km/h and waves enthusiastically. This is Hristo Kilikchiev—35 years old, brimming with a smile and boundless energy.
9,627 jumps, 107 hours of free fall, 48,135 minutes under an open canopy, over 49,500 parachutes deployed, more than 5,000 tandem jumps, and over 500 trained students—this is Hristo Kilikchiev’s impressive track record, built over 19 years dedicated to skydiving.
It all began in March 1993, when 16-year-old Hristo joined a parachute club for pre-barracks training at the Defense Assistance Organization. He was one of the few who didn’t need to forge his parents’ signatures to take part. Initially enrolled in a non-motorized flying course that required two jumps, Hristo quickly forgot about flying. Parachuting captivated him from the very first jump, and what started as a hobby soon turned into a lifelong profession.
In 2000, he moved to Spain after realizing he couldn’t develop as a world-class skydiver in Bulgaria. “I was lucky by birth. Without knowing Spanish, I found a job in the third week, right after the first interview. ‘Interview’ is a strong word—holding a stopwatch, a Swiss man with long gray hair tied in a ponytail had me roll a parachute. He told me I could start rolling parachutes the next jump day. For the next three weeks, it rained like it hadn’t in Spain for the past 40 years. I’ll never forget those weeks, living on rye bread, a box of margarine, and a piece of dried meat.”
With the taste of ham, a draft beer in a chilled mug, fresh fish, and the magic words that led him to Spain—a free jump with a reward—Hristo recalls his early years on the Iberian Peninsula.
‘There was a lot of work and countless parachutes to roll. My hands ached, and some of my nails bled. I was rolling in a race against time—only about 10 minutes to pack two tandem parachutes before the next group of four or five skydivers appeared from the next flight.’
Despite the challenges, Hristo steadily advanced—first as a skydiver, then as an instructor, and eventually becoming the head of all instructors at *Skydive Madrid*, the largest skydiving company near the Spanish capital.
‘One of the most memorable moments was when I had to double for a soldier and jump into Atlético Madrid’s Vicente Calderón stadium for the opening of their football championship. Thousands of people cheered as I kicked the ball to start the match.’
Hristo also fondly remembers filming a Spanish comedy where he had to double for a chubby actor. He jumped with foam padding, a wig, and a painted beard, engaging in a mid-air fight with the other double—his good friend.
After ten years abroad, Hristo returned to Bulgaria in 2010, where he focused on developing skydiving in the village of Banya, Karlovsko, offering the easiest way to experience freedom in the sky—tandem jumps. He introduced new training methods for aspiring parachutists and began inspiring more young people to take up skydiving. Over the years, he jumped with students and colleagues in Turkey, Croatia, Romania, and the Czech Republic.
“The most incredible moment is the silence that comes after the canopy opens. There’s no silence like it. The emotions of a skydive can’t be put into words—you have to experience them yourself. After so many jumps, the feeling is different, of course. But I would pay just to relive the sensation and thrill of those first jumps,” says Hristo.
He spent his last winter in New Zealand, where he made over 900 jumps in a single season. “There, extreme tourism is so well-developed that it feels like being at McDonald’s—everything is quick and streamlined, with no personal connection to the customer. You won’t find skydivers jumping for the pure joy of it. The focus is purely on catering to tourists. In contrast, back home, we still find ourselves explaining what skydiving is and why it’s not as dangerous as it may seem.”
Since March 2012, Hristo Kilikchiev, together with his partner Dragomir Nedkov, has been running his own business, *Skydive Sofia*, at Ihtiman Airfield.
“The challenges have been many,” Hristo recalls. “We’ve spoken personally with every client, but the joy of sharing the experience with them is immense. We’re energized by their stories—like 12-year-old Boyan, who waited for the clouds to clear so he could jump on his birthday, a dream he’d had since he was 7; or Yasen, who proposed to his girlfriend with a huge banner, hearing her shout ‘YES’ from 200 meters up; or Diana, who jumped despite her friends and family’s objections and couldn’t stop smiling afterward. Then there’s Martin, who celebrated the birth of his daughter with a jump.
What’s fascinating are both those who come for that one life-changing jump, and those who arrive and just can’t leave—they do several tandems and eventually complete the course. I’ve had students who mastered the skills in three jumps and others who took twelve, but all are equally captivated by their desire to experience that emotion over and over again.”
“The adrenaline of a parachute jump, even the memory of the jump itself, is a wonderful stress-relief therapy. Jumping from an airplane is a victory over ourselves and our instinct for self-preservation, and overcoming our fears inevitably changes us. All I need is good weather, comfortable sports shoes, and after one jump, I can change your life forever!”
