My Outward Bound Experience

My Outward Bound Experience

5/6/2016

by Nate Bender

Since my 40^th birthday I have evolved into defining my aging progressions in five-year increments, much like marking our high school reunions on five-year intervals.  Imbedded in these logs are milestones and memorable undertakings.  This life story takes the reader on such an experience.

In 1993 I turned fifty, and commemorated that mark by running in a Thanksgiving Day five-mile Turkey Trot race starting and finishing at the Cleveland, Ohio Lake Front airport.  For me, each mile I covered represented one decade of my life, along with building an ever-increasing appetite for our turkey day feast awaiting my return home!  That race became the last one for me to run, as my aging knees said ‘enough!’

Five years later when I turned 55, I had a desire to yet again test my man hood while revitalizing any youth left in my body, and signed up for a 10-day Outward Bound sailing experience in Maine.   This sailing adventure became doubly challenging on a primitive twin mast, open cockpit wooden sailboat.  This 30 foot boat had to house fifteen people for 9 days, as one day and night was spent on an island.  Food provisions for the trip’s duration had to be stored in the confines of the boat.  And, we had to find space for each of our gear bags containing personal items and foul weather garments.  Additionally, we had to find space for maybe ten wooden oars, to be employed in the absence of wind.  Oh, and the boat had to accommodate a primitive five-gallon-bucket-toilet, barely made private in front of the main mast head in the bow of the boat.  I can attest to the fact space on and in the boat was fully used!

These traditional/primitive center-board sailboats required teamwork and leadership.  On an open boat with no cabin and no engine, we lived in close proximity to each other, using only wind and oars as propulsion. We rotated responsibilities, from cooking to steering to navigating, tasks which developed learning the crafts of maneuvering under sail, coastal navigation, rowing and living aboard a small open boat.  At night, we slept on deck, on top of our assembled oars and other stable parts of the boat, comforted by rubber mattresses and under a tarp.  We adhered to a night-time schedule for shared anchor watch duties, often under brilliant night skies.  Since I was usually the first to bed down at night, I frequently chose the 4:00 to 6:00 AM watch to catch the rising sun, offering time for reflection on the life I had lived and the course I was on.

I was the oldest member, by far, of the group, save for one of the two leaders being close behind at age 50.  No natural social bonding occurred in the beginning, so I sought to merely fit in and carrying out whatever duties were required.  The group was coed, ranging in ages 18 to 38, making for some interesting sights around the calls of nature, marked by the women extending their bare behinds over the boat’s edge to relieve themselves, in lieu of using the ‘porta-potty’ on board.

The first day launch was memorable in that the wind was brisk and sailing on Penobscot Bay’s frigid waters was exhilarating, which filled my senses in the process.  Within the first hour after setting out, we encountered a strong rain storm, complete with stiff winds, that required  reefing of the sails and donning our rubber foul weather gear.  Two of the teenage women soon became unsettled by all the discomfort, and began to cry and plead for a course withdrawal.

Two scenarios stand out for me over the course’s duration: One involved daily ‘baths’ in frigid waters by jumping over board for a quick dip.  Invigorating it was and cleansing too!  In the course of getting back in the boat I rejected all efforts for assistance, instead, I relied on my own strength and tactics.  For this, I received kudos from the leaders, which validated my still possessing some youthful vigor.  During our day-long stay on Hurricane Island the bathing task was made a little more challenging….we had to jump into the still frigid waters from a twenty foot high platform on shore.  It was shocking having to descend deeper into the water! 

The second scenario involved each of us experiencing solitude on the island.  We were dispensed a shelter-half, a bottle of water and a partial loaf of bread, then instructed to find a site suitable for foraging wild foods and a twelve-hour over-night stint.  This encounter with myself connected me to the realization that I’m at peace with myself around the life I had lived.  I also discovered evidence that I needed to retire in five years and venture into a new unknown!

Upon our return to the starting point in Rockland, I had time to bid farewell to my fellow sojourners, complete with exchanging strong embraces and receiving acknowledgements of my humanity. The departure became tender and validated the merits of undergoing an Outward Bound adventure.  My manhood was still in tact!

In the bus ride back to Portland I was filled with an insatiable craving for a lobster dinner!  So what did I do?  I feasted on a double order serving of such!