Actuated Wingsuit Flight:
An Unfinished Journey
In 2009, we set out to make jet-assisted wingsuit flight stable and controllable. Using first-principles models and data from instrumented flights, we replicated the known instability from earlier attempts that used small turbojet engines attached to boots and explored a fly-by-wire approach. It is a story of ambition and courage—and of a remarkable person whose passion for flight brought joy, and then sorrow.
Geo Robson at Zurich.Minds 2009
Our paper: Longitudinal Stability Analysis of a Jet-Powered Wingsuit
I first met Geoffrey “Geo” Robson in 2009, when we were, in a sense, interviewing each other. He was looking for a PhD position in systems and control, and I was looking for someone to join the Flying Machine Arena team in my research group at ETH Zurich. Even though he had outstanding credentials, I wanted to see how well he could think on his feet. Similarly, Geo wanted to know if the culture of our group was a good fit for his personality.
We sat down for what turned into an hour-long conversation. By the end of it, I was convinced of two things: first, that he was technically talented and would be a first-rate researcher; and second, that his personality would mesh with the collaborative, creative atmosphere we had built. There was a clarity of thought and a quiet confidence about him that made me want to know more about what truly drove him, so before we wrapped up, I asked, “If you could do research on anything you wanted to, what would you do?”
A big smile spread across his face—one of those smiles that moves all the way to the eyes—and he laid out an idea that had clearly been with him for some time. An avid wingsuit flyer, he wanted to figure out how to make wingsuit pilots fly level using thrusters mounted on their feet.
This had been attempted before—in 2005, Finnish wingsuit flyer Visa Parviainen had flown with small turbojet engines attached to boots. While he achieved short bursts of level flight, the setup was inherently unstable and could only be flown safely at high altitude, where being far from the ground gave enough margin to recover from the instability and deploy a parachute. Geo’s idea was to go beyond this, building a fly-by-wire control system that would eliminate the instability and make such flight truly controllable.
His plan was concrete and ambitious:
1. Collect wingsuit flight data—he would gather it himself, instrumenting his own flights.
2. Build a first-principles model that explained the data.
3. Use the model to design a control system to stabilize flight.
4. Build it and fly it.
I peppered him with questions. He answered each with clarity and care. By the time he finished, I was convinced. “Let’s do that instead!” I told him.
Over the next year, we developed and refined models, tested assumptions, and learned from each iteration. Our approach combined data that Geo collected during his own wingsuit flights with first-principles aerodynamic modeling, grounded in the same principles used to explain how airplanes and birds fly. To gather the data, Geo first had to design and build the instrumentation himself, creating a system that could reliably capture his position, speed, and orientation throughout each flight.
The result was a paper titled “Longitudinal Stability Analysis of a Jet-Powered Wingsuit.” In it, we analyzed the flight dynamics of a wingsuit equipped with small jet engines, and our mathematical model was able to replicate the same instability that had limited Visa’s earlier flights. We then proposed control strategies to overcome it, showing how human flight could be extended beyond the limits of unpowered gliding.
Shortly before heading home to South Africa for the holidays, Geo came into my office, beaming, to tell me the paper had just been accepted for presentation at the AIAA Guidance, Navigation, and Control Conference. It was one of his proudest moments, and the joy in his voice made clear how much this work meant to him. He was also looking forward to seeing his family and friends, and to wingsuit flying in the mountains and valleys of his beloved homeland.
On April 12, 2010, that future was cut short. Geo died during a wingsuit BASE jump from a cliff near Stellenbosch. He was just 31 years old. Losing him was devastating—for his family, his friends, and his colleagues. For me, it was the loss of both a remarkable student and a close friend.
When the conference came, I presented our paper in his place. It was the most difficult talk I have ever given; more than once I had to pause to steady myself. Standing there, sharing the work he had poured himself into, I felt the weight of his absence, but also the passion that had driven his pursuit. Geo’s life was short, but he spent it pursuing his dreams, and that is how I will always remember him.