A small black shape dropped into sight in my aeroplane's windscreen as we circled high over Calais in a brilliant blue haze after lunch today. Yves Rossy had just leaped from the safety of his jump plane. Following behind, we watched in awe as "Fusionman" extended the eight foot wings strapped to his back, ending his free-fall and swooped into level flight.

Like a black hawk, Rossy throttled up his four little but noisy jets, accelerating in level flight to over 100 knots and headed out towards the thin white line that shimmered through the haze on the other side of the Channel. The distant Dover Cliffs were the only thing we could make out in the intense blue goldfish bowl in which sky meets the sea with no horizon.

The Times' Cessna 182 was part of the little squadron of two helicopters and two planes that escorted Rossy as he made history, zooming like Buzz Lightyear, the spaceman of Toy Story, out into the wide blue yonder.

Protected by a special air corridor, we tucked in behind the Pilatus Porter drop plane which was guiding Rossy, following him just above like a body guard, with the two yellow helicopters in tow. Six thousand feet below, Channel ferries zig-zagged through the dense stream of container ships.

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• The human jet

The helicopter escort was there should Rossy have been forced to ditch among the shipping in the cold grey-green water. But his path did not waver as we sped along in his wake, a member of a strange flock of birds following their jet-powered human leader in extended V formation.

Unlike Rossy, I and Benoit, my co-pilot, were in a warm cockpit behind controls and a reassuring engine, talking to air traffic control and with GPS navigation. Rossy has no instruments except an audio altimeter in his helmet and his wristwatch. And, apart from the throttle, he has no flight controls, just his body. To steer, climb or descend he moves his head and limbs slightly, a skill he first learned as a sky-diver. "I fuse with my machine. It was my dream as a boy to be a bird," he told me before the flight.

Within 10 minutes, the white lighthouse on Saint Mary's bay hove into slight and the jetman descended, wheeling into a left turn as he crossed the coastline. Along with the flock we pulled aside to got out of his way as Rossy performed a spectacular "victory" figure of eight, turning out over the sea again to face the wind. We watched from just above as his blue, steerable parachute unfurled and Rossy lined up with the field where the media crowd waited. No-one said anything on the radio.

"Bravo!". The cheer went up from my French companions in the Cessna when we saw Rossy touch down. "Spectaculaire!"

Much the same would have been heard near the same spot 99 years ago this year when Louis Bleriot swooped down in his monoplane, becoming the first powered aeroplane pilot to fly the Channel (balloon and dirigible pilots did it before Bleriot).

Rossy, ever cheeerful, gangly and boyish was coolness itself before take-off. "There should be no problem today," he said as he tucked into pasta and mineral water in a tent beside the old air terminal that still welcomes arrivals with a sign saying: "Gateway to the Continent". "It feels right. The weather is holding," he said.

Red wine was on the table, but Fusionman touched none.

On Thursday, Rossy cancelled because of fog which he said gave him butterflies in the stomach, a warning sign that he does not ignore.

Minutes after our lunch, he donned his flame-retardant flight suit and his team wheeled out his wings to the Pilatus. Close up, the black Kevlar and foam wings with their four Thermos sized engines look distinctly home made, which they are.

Rossy strapped on the contraption and took position in the Pilatus cabin, which has a flame-proof floor. That is because he lights his four engines standing on a platform by the open door with two of the motors still inside. Several fire extinguishers are held at the ready.

"See you the other side," he waved at his team as we took off ahead of the Pilatus to climb to await him.

The world's latest aviation pioneer has only a weekend to absorb the adrenalin. On Monday, he takes command of his usual "office" - the captain's seat in a Swiss International Airbus 320 in which he will fly tourists to Luxor and Sharm El Sheikh.

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