"The Solo can be one of the most rewarding parts of the Outward Bound experience," Shane, one of the instructors, tells me and the nine other people in my group.
"After we dock and clean the boat at Hurricane Island and go through a bunch of safety briefings, you all will be dropped off at different isolated locations on the island for 48 hours," he said.
"It will probably be the longest time you will ever spend by yourself," Tee, the other instructor adds.
As we row our 30-foot "pulling boat" into the Harbor of Hurricane Island, everyone murmurs in excitement. Not because of the Solo, but because this will be our first time on land in many days.
For the past two weeks we?five guys, five girls, and a male and female instructor?have lived on the deck of a very small schooner designed to be propelled by its two sails or its six oars.
On our boat there is no cabin, there is no kitchen, there is no "head," but mostly, there is no room. On the rare occasions when we sleep, we each have about one inch of personal space?if we are lucky. When we do get to doze off for a few hours, it is always interrupted by an anchor-watch of at least 60 minutes.
We usually row the boat with big pinewood oars. The Outward Bound catalog advertised the trip as a sailing adventure along the Maine coastline known for its "picturesque beauty, abundant bays and harbors, [and] rocky islands." Maine is, indeed, incredibly beautiful, but they forgot to mention that we would be doing more rowing than sailing if the wind was not blowing in our favor. And it was not.
Food is cooked on a small kerosene-powered stove.
We navigate with charts, a compass and a ruler?no GPS satellite navigation for us.
The past two weeks have been the most challenging of my life?getting used to the small space, the hours of rowing every day and the lack of toilet facilities has not been easy by any measure.
And yet, the last fourteen days were perhaps the most rewarding of my life as well.
Our group is a motley crew, to be sure.
My best buddy on the trip, J.C., is a 17-year-old from central Texas. He is on this trip because the State of Texas gave him a choice between Outward Bound or a month in juvenile detention. He had been arrested after driving his SUV into a pond at a local park.
As J.C. told the story, he had taken "magic" mushrooms at a friend's house. After a few hours of nothing happening, he decided to go home. The hallucination- inducing 'shrooms took effect on his way back, however: he "saw" a large billboard grow legs and come chasing after him. To avoid the mutant advertisement, he swerved off the road.
His $300 glass bong was the only casuality.
Leila, a 16-year-old from New Orleans with the accent to prove it, was on the adventure because if she completed it, her step-dad promised to buy her a car of "no less than $15,000," as she often reminded me.
Halfway through the trip, the instructors looked through some of our bags?with our permission?for contraband. J.C. was clean, but Leila had lipstick, mascara, and face cream, all of which were prohibited.
When we finally returned to base camp, she ran for her locker, put on enough makeup for a professional clown, and then told everyone to look at her "because now you can see what I really look like." She was not joking.
The other kids on the trip each had their own reasons for being on Outward Bound.
I was the only one on the trip just for the challenge of it, a fact that Leila never quite believed.
Stepping onto dry land after such a long time on a boat is difficult in an odd sort of way. I quickly adjust.
After dinner, we have a lengthy briefing on how the Solo would work?no timepiece, no knife, no fire, very little food.
Shane emphasizes safety so many times, I begin to forget what the word means.
"If you remember nothing else," he says sternly, "remember to watch your step. Most injuries on Solos come from people slipping on rocks. So WYS, watch your step."
After setting up my Solo site, I just sit and look at the view. It is exquisite. I'm only a few yards from the ocean and see a lobster boat trawling back and forth with a flock of seabirds trailing it. My site faces west so I get to see the most exquisite sunset of my life. I get in my sleeping bag and close my eyes.
I awake to see another exquisite sunset. I had slept for almost a day. I get up, walk around a bit and then return to the comfort of my sleeping bag.
Before I know it, the Solo is over. Well, almost over.
"There is one last little part of the Solo," Tee, the female instructor, tells us. "It's a trust activity."
Everyone is blindfolded except for the leader. We are marched around for about thirty minutes, the leader switching every 240 seconds. I am the leader when Shane speaks.
"Josh, put on your blindfold and follow me my keeping your hand on my shoulder." I follow his instructions.
"Why are we stopping?" I ask.
"Just take two steps forward, Josh." Again, I follow his instructions.
"Alright, Josh! Great job! I'm really impressed with you," Shane says in an uncharacteristically friendly tone.
"Thanks," I respond cautiously. "Can I take my blindfold and life jacket off now?" I ask, hoping that his answer is yes.
"Sure," Shane responds, "just take one step forward then you can get rid of them." Just as I am lifting up my right foot to walk forward, Shane quickly whispers, "WYS."
"What is he talking about?" I start to wonder. The thought, however, is interrupted by sickening realization that I am falling. And falling. For a long time. When?or onto what?I'm going to land, I do not know. In what I think are perhaps the last moments of my life, I do not become enlightened with some deep insights about life. I do not see memories of my life pass before my eyes. Although I fall for what feels like an eternity, I only manage to think one coherent thought which repeats itself over and over and over.
"Shit," I say to myself. "I shoulda' watched my step."