Christian Pfeiffer - 4/01/09
I recently went on a school outward bound excursion, and upon my return, I was requested to write an article on the trip. This is that article:
Paddling across the Gulf of Mexico, meandering though the ten thousand islands, and wanting to shower are ten sunburned high school students. These ten freshmen do everything you do, they play your sports, they go to your classes, and they ride in cars, but for one week, that all changes for them. That is because they are on Outward Bound. NCOBS (North Carolina Outward Bound School) has a different curriculum. They focus on four main principles, also known as the four pillars: physical fitness, craftsmanship, self reliance, and compassion. For five days, students from Palmer Trinity’s freshman class, are deprived of their everyday luxuries, and succumb to natures luxuries.
Outward Bound, which opened on October 14, 1941, has a mission to “inspire people to discover and develop their potential to care for themselves, others and the world around them through challenging experiences in unfamiliar settings.” They offer courses, world wide, to individuals of all backgrounds, genders, ethnicities, orientations, disabilities, and physical strengths. Apart from that, they also offer courses for at risk youth, and school groups.
Outward Bound is not a trip. It is not a vacation, or a reason for no school. None of Outward Bounds courses are going to be easy. But they will, however, be fun, memorable, and unforgettable. I had the opportunity to go on an Outward Bound excursion, and it was worth it. From Wednesday March 11, 2009 until Sunday March 15, 2009, I will be at the mercy of Mother Nature, my crew, and myself.
A bus ride to end of the Everglades is your first destination. No skill required for that. But the moment you step off the bus, and take your last pee in a normal toilet, the going gets tough. Standing in the hot sun, you dump your bags contents onto the grass, and pack them away in a stuff sack. You learn how to pack your gear bag. You learn how to set up your heely hammock (which disappointingly, is not a hammock). You learn how to navigate, and how to paddle. When you feel like the sun cannot get any hotter, you go for a swim, in the cold, refreshing water. Little did we know, this was a swim test. We all passed. It was now time to get out of the water, and carry a war boat back into the water. One by one we all loaded into the boat, leaving our gear on land. Why? Well, as we sat in that boat, we began to rock it, hard. Water began to splash in the boat, then pour. One by one, somebody fell out, or jumped out. After filling the boat up halfway, we stopped. We had to bail. That was the whole purpose of entering the boat and then filling it with water, just to practice emptying it out.
After a quick PB&J lunch, we all began to pack the two war boats. Each boat carried our personal gear bag. Then we had to divide up the eight water containers, three color buckets, five meal buckets, three bug buckets, a propane tank, kitchen gear, pads, foul weather gear, and to mention, the grubber. The grubber is a grey bucket with a snap on lid, filled with blue liquid, and has a toilet seat attached by a rope. I think you can get the idea for its intended use.
We then proceeded to enter our boats. I, at the bow, was accompanied by Jose Solis-Camara, Stefan Staertzel, Sebastian Calderon, Sebastian Nicholls, and Mr. McGlynn, along with our instructor Big E. We paddled for fourteen miles, got to see the sunset, and the flash, see actual stars, and sang whatever song came to mind. We finally reached our destination, Pavilion Key. We paddled for four hours, fourteen miles in total. We thought we had finished all the hard work, but to our dismay, it was low tide, which meant that we had to carry everything out of the boat a distance of 400 meters, to then come back and repeat. Keep in mind that this was at a point where we could barely hold onto our paddles anymore. Even the strongest of the people in our group could not carry the water containers with ease. And then, to add insult to injury, we had to then carry to heavy boats over those 400 meters of sand, water, shells, and muck. Finally, after all of that, we got to eat, penne alfredo, and get to sleep to the sounds of the water.
We awoke to the bright sun, with sand in our hair, shirts, and sleeping bags, which no matter how hard you shook them, there was always a load of sand in them. We unzipped our heely hammocks, which are portable bug nets, and walked across the sand with nappy hair to eat hot oatmeal. Afterwards, we charted our course, and then played in the water and sand. During that time, I was buried by my comrades and given a voluptuous pair of breasts. Before setting off, we had to complete our initiative, which was a task that we had to complete. I’ll just leave it at that. We loaded our boats and set off to Mormon Key. After arriving there two hours later, we had lunch, and then proceeded to go to solo.
This is not a survival exercise. The solo component of an Outward Bound course lasts anywhere from one to three days and is meant to be time for introspection and rejuvenation. Typically, you will be assigned to an individual campsite where you will spend an extended period of time resting, relaxation, rejuvenation and reflection. It's a chance to take a breather from the hard work, to reflect on what you've done so far on your course, examine your natural surroundings, write letters, draw or make notes in your journal. You'll have adequate food, water and shelter for the duration of the solo. An instructor is always nearby and will check on you from time to time.
As you can tell by the description, solo is solo time. Ours lasted two ours. While we planned on doing things during that time, such as wanting to build a shelter like Jose and I planned, or taking a dump, the majority of us fell asleep and basked in the sun, and the two remaining took a dump. After solo, we got back together and reflected on the experience, and laughed at my blue hands, which were due to poor circulation.
At 7pm we began to pack the boats back up and set off to Watsons place. It began to get dark, and we were paddling against the current. For the first hour or so of night, we could not see anything because the moon has not risen yet, but after watching the beautiful moon rise, it got easier. We kept on paddling, and got to see and experience bioluminesants, and the hated weather stations that we had mistaken for camp. Finally, after countless hours of paddling, out in the distance, a port-a-potty was spotted. We paddled to the port-a-potty, tied our boats up to the dock, and unloaded the boats. In the meantime, on the opposite side of the port-a-potty, one by one we went to pee into the water.
The place was sketchy. Watsons place still has remnants of the house and car owned by Watson back in the 1900’s. Watson was believed to have murdered several people when it came time to pay them. In 1910, after several bodies “were found in the river near the farm, with weights attached to them, men of nearby Chokoloskee Island formed a posse and gunned Watson down.”
Before eating our bean burritos, we did our nightly ritual. During that moment, I had the luck to look up at the sky and notice a meteorite, and pointed in time for the rest of my crew to see it before it disappeared. We ate, and went to sleep.
The next morning we all awoke with stiff backs. Tommy awoke to a bug bitten neck and arms due to the fact he did not fasten his heely hammock correctly. We ate breakfast, a delicious bowl of granola, and for some, powdered milk. We then cleaned up, and proceeded to do our two initiatives, one which entailed passing a team member over a rope which was at neck height (I’m 5’10” so that would be about 5’ 3” high) without touching the rope and only using ourselves and nothing else, and the other entailed a new spin on rock paper scissors. We then charted our course, ate some M&M’s and left to Sweetwater chickee. Out of all our trips, this was the shortest. We arrived around 1’oclock, had taboulee for lunch, and sunbathed. We were blessed to have an empty port-a-potty, one who we feel bad for after our use.
Sweetwater chickee was two platforms and a small walkway on stilts in the open water. Each platform had a roof. Unfortunately, Sebastian N. had dropped somebody’s spoon into the water. Without thinking, he did the leap of life into the water, which stirred up a bunch of sulfur smelling mud, which we jokingly said was the reason why the port-a-potty was so clean. We then proceeded to enter and exit the water, relaxed, enjoyed the sounds of Fernando’s snoring, and tanned some more. Dusk fell and we ate on mac n’ cheese. After watching and betting on some spiders, we ate s’mores over the propane stove with the remaining graham crackers that Frankie managed to not eat. Afterwards, some of us went to lie in the sleeping bags, while others played with the jellyfish. After having some funny conversations, we fell asleep.
It was our last day out on the water the next morning. We awoke to Fernando exclaiming that his back hurt, and his neck was screwed up. After all noticing Tommy’s newly bug bitten face; we walked across the platform to the other hut, ate our granola, and proceeded to clean up. We then had to complete our last challenge, and chart our course. Just before leaving, we created our team flag and chose our team name, which was in Spanish, so therefore our counselors and some of us did not understand its meaning, with I’d rather not translate or write here.
We paddled our way back, through the water ways. That last paddle consisted of paddling, consistent urinations of the side of the boat by Frankie, one ticked off Pfeiffer who had a rage fit, two moonings, motor boaters, and Fernando the tour guide. Towards the final stretch, we were singing Milkshake as we approached some immigrants who were fishing off the banks of the water. We passed under the bridge which meant we were almost back to base camp. We shouted “Viva Mexico” into the air, and asked Jose for one last time to tell us where Mexico is.
We arrived first, at 7:30 PM. We quickly disembarked, unloaded for the last time, and de-issued our gear. We occasionally stared through the clothesline to peek at the girls group who just arrived, the first time in five days we got to see someone other than ourselves and gender. They weren’t as discreet with their headlights on, all standing in a line staring back. We ate our last dinner on O.B., stir-fry with coconut rice, and had our last peace and chow as well. We danced our cheesy dance moves, kicked the soccer ball around, watched Fernando show off his skills, and went to sleep.
The last and final morning we awoke to the sound of people still paddling in, for they have been going at it all night long. We ate bagels with cream cheese and apple butter, played soccer, and relaxed as the other groups still had work to do. After crossing the small channel, we walked back to Everglades National Park. We had our ceremony, and then boarded the bus.
Outward Bound teaches you more about yourself than you could have imagined, and it teaches you about the people you work with. It teaches you that you can in fact do it, and when you most feel like giving up, you still go on. While we were at a disadvantage because we knew each other before hand, we still got to see the real sides of each other on that trip. And regardless of how strong you are, how agile you are, or your knowledge of the outdoors, anybody can do Outward Bound, and everybody should do Outward Bound.
