Tina's Journal - July

July 24th

Early July
Outward Bound is not only a significant life challenge for the student, but also for the instructors. Physically we get pushed, since not only do we have to hump our packs for as long and far as the students but we also have to scout peaks and set up climbing sites, as well as deal with any student melt-downs or interpersonal group issues. The beginning of our course was rife with crying students and even a few punches. It's the hardest thing these 16 and 17-year olds have ever done and not all of them had come of their own accord. We managed to squeeze in some teaching, around group discussions about behavior and one-on-one conferences with stressed teens. It's stimulating and exciting on the one hand - to be part of such a trying and rewarding part of their lives. But it's also tiring. The more trips I lead, the more experience I'll get and the easier it'll be. I hope. I certainly got to initiate more motivational techniques than I ever have in my life, ranging from distracting students with questions that I wanted answers to at the end of 5, or 10 or 20 steps, to holding onto a students pack and walking with her as she struggled with fear and exhaustion on a steep talus slope, reassuring her the whole time that I would not let her fall to her death.

7/19/01 I can only imagine the boredom overwhelming our students, out on day 2 of their solo. We, at least, have books to read (although I'm limited to my instructor's manual and Robert's Outdoor Leadership book. Not exactly titillating material but definitely a step up from the ingredients on a packet of Gluconade (or Craisins, which I read yesterday)).

On day 1 of solo I spent a good hour or two lounging on a rock, picking the dead skin off my arms, where it was flaking off from a week-old sunburn. I bet I provided enough fodder for an entire ant colony for a year. At some point I walked around the small alpine lake we're camping near, looking over cliffs, throwing rocks in the water to see what guys always find so fascinating about that, playing in the snow (throwing snowballs in the lake), running across the talus (until I got out of breath, which was usually about 10 rocks later - we're at 11,600 ft after all). It was definitely a good respite from sitting and lazing about all day. I felt a bond with dogs.

It wasn't until today that I actually started missing the students. Robert has an actual (half-of-a) novel to read and seems to find enjoyment in writing. Personally, I read and cooked and ate and craved chocolate (apparently another instructor pair actually calculated how many miles it would be to hike out and get chocolate - too many), and worried and watched for Robert when he went off to climb some scary peak this morning. By 5 o'clock, however, I was convinced I was going to go crazy. I started to walk, actually to run (a whole 20 yards or so before I had to sit on a rock and catch my breath again) around the lake. I then determined that in order for my life to be complete I needed to swim across the lake and run back along the shore to my shoes.

I stood there, contemplating, for a while and determined that, yes, this obviously had to be done. I was all the way down to bare skin, staring at the wind riffling up the lake's surface, when I decided that this was a feat that should not be attempted alone, considering the magnitude and potential posterity it would bring to its conquerors. It would be truly unfair of me to keep such a prize to myself. So I put all my clothes back on and trooped back to camp where I questioned Robert's swimming competency and then declared that I needed a partner-in-crime. Obviously there was no-one else available, so he would just have to do, regardless of his own inclinations.

Whether or not he was surprised by the comicbook-esque change from the quiet, lethargic, oft-napping Tina that he'd grown accustomed to, to the wild-eyed, obvious psychopath who was exalting the merits of swimming across a decidedly ice-cold, snow-bound lake, he did not show. Rather, he said, "oh, I was going to go in after I fixed this stove. Did you want to go now?" "Why yes, of course! Now is the only possible time this gigantic feat of mastery can be performed!" (I was, at this time, looking at the sun inching towards the horizon and thinking how much we would need its warmth to stave off hypothermia). Plus, of course, one cannot delay when one had a fool-proof Calvin and Hobbes-style plan in mind. No, the time had to be now.

So he shrugged and gathered up some useful things, like a towel, warm clothes, a hat, etc. I picked up my bandana, and, on second thought, looking at my shorts and tank top (and the waning sun), grabbed my down jacket. OFF we went. I told him my plan. He countered that running back along the lake would be not only challenging (since it was a combo talus slope and snow field) but a breach of policy (no bare feet). So we compromised - we would swim sort of diagonally back and forth across the width of the lake, which would actually be slightly longer than my initial proposal.

We dove in. Of course, initially I had said the coup de grace would be to do a flip turn off the rock on the other side. However, by the time I got there (about 30 sec. later - it was only about 25 yards across) my whole body was numb and I couldn't breathe. So I climbed on to the rock. It's hard to swim fast enough to stay warm AND get enough oxygen at this altitude. The water must've been close to 34 degrees. It wasn't 'til the way back, however, that I realized how dangerous this activity was. I couldn't feel my skin when I got out and Robert's hands were blue. So we ran (as much as we could) over talus and snow back. Robert having to do a few more laps up and down a gigantic sloping boulder due to his lack of insulating body fat (I knew it was good for something!). Of course now I was concerned about how it would look on my evaluation that my co-instructor got hypothermia due to my insistence that he swim across a high alpine lake. So I started heating water for hot drinks. He, of course, knew how to take care of himself and soon claimed to be perfectly fine, turning his attention back to repairing the Whisperlite.

Then, he blew up the stove...

7/24/01 I've been in basecamp for a couple days now. I spent yesterday in Durango, doing laundry, shopping, hanging out in an internet cafe, getting film developed etc. I have LOVED reading again! Picking up everything I could get my hands on, from climbing magazines to the history of Mallory and Irvine 1923 attempt on Everest. Never again will I go into the field without something worthwhile to read.

I found out that I got into the COBS sea kayaking training - in Sept. in San Francisco, and so might be actually getting some work in the Baja this winter.

(p.s. Robert was fine, in case you're wondering)