So, I became a bit of a gear head. Looking for the lightest first aid kit, the most compact layering pieces, a comfy sleeping pad, a micro fiber towel, I resisted the convertible pants, I just can’t sacrifice fashion to that extent. But I got a rad week-long back pack and some really cool space saving vacuuming travel bags, all in an effort to be a well-prepared traveler for my Outward Bound Climbing trip in Joshua Tree.
I was all packed up, dressed in dorky outdoor garb (being raised in London, I have no style when it comes to outdoor wear, I always look like a weirdo, I’m okay with that now, I’ve given in to it), in the car on the way to the airport. So, I realize I’m pretty nervous; the thought of spending a week, summer camp style, with a bunch of strangers is intimidating to me. I’m a reluctant loner -struggle to be social but can do a good job of it most of the time, but it exhausts me and I need a daily dose of solitude, quiet and respite, and the thought of probably not having it freaked me out. So, of course, I knew it was exactly what I needed to do.
I make it to JFK on time, check in, buy some mags, and am ready to settle into some air laziness. Halfway through the flight the pilot asks for a medical specialist then a stewardess runs down the aisle with an oxygen tank. We all become a bit agitated, no announcements or explanations are being made. Then the pilot says we’re making an emergency landing in Wichita. Now I see lifeless legs hanging out into the aisle, way down in business class. Occasionally they shudder, either a seizure or CPR, I can’t tell which, but it’s clearly involuntary. It’s creepy, I’m sure I’m looking at a dead man. They tell us to sit down, rubber neckers have filled the aisles, hardly anyone sits, people can be so bleedin’ unhelpful.
Turns out the guy was in a diabetic coma. His wife was with him. It was sad, scary and surreal.
I end up at the hotel 4 hours later than expected, tired, nervous and excited.
Up early the next morning to meet the group. I WANT to do this trip, have been looking forward to it for ages, the physical challenge is the least of my worries, it’s the social aspect that has me totally apprehensive. I can only really put words to this all now in retrospect, at the time I was just kind of smiley and awkward, but now I realise that I was facing a new personal quandary: pander to my habit of wanting to be liked at the cost of my energy, boundaries and such, or balls out be myself, moody baby and all and risk not being well liked. I went with the latter. And though it does sort of suck to not be loved by all, it feels brilliant to know I took care of myself and my needs and wants and still finished the trip with some incredible experiences and very good friends. But I’m jumping forward.
I’m not good at chitchat. I understand that initially, with a bunch of strangers, you have to just do it. It was an interesting crowd. Most of the group comprised of outdoor activity leaders who work with at risk youth. There was one other New Yorker; she worked for Avon, and a Latin teacher, making up my 10 climb-mates, plus three instructors.
We drove up to Joshua Tree National Park, and after a quick orientation went straight into climbing. The rock there is way different to the rock I first climbed in Utah. It’s granite, super crystally with big sharp grains. It’s also very slabby, not too many holds; mostly you’re sticking your finger in a crack (naughty) and hoping your shoes stick well. It was also really cold and I was realising I probably didn’t have enough clothes.
That evening we set up camp, putting up midi tents and throwing most of our belongings into individual rough neck crates. I would get pangs of “what did I get myself into”. People were so gregarious, which is lovely, but I felt as though I was coming off as rude when I really just liked to listen and watch.
There were a lot of the expected, prescribed OB rituals, such as:
Potpourri: at 6:30 we’d put our sleeping mats in a circle and share stretches or work out moves together.
Open Forum: After dinner we’d sit around a lantern and “speak freely”. If we agreed with something someone said we were told we could put a hand into the circle and jiggle it –sign language for “me too”. If there was a lull in the speaking, a leader would put there hands into the circle like a crocodile mouth and slowly close the gap –indicating, “this is your last chance to add something”.
Nuts and Bolts: Lingo for “this is what we’re doing tomorrow”
Mindfulness: this word was used A LOT in relation to most things.
Service: I’ll go more into this later, but OB includes service activities with their trips. Ours was to go play bingo at an assisted living community –it was INTENSE.
Super hero/heroine night: Yes, even out in the desert, stank from no bath, greasy hair and dirty clothes, we had to devise a costume for the final night. More on that later too.
Badge ceremony: We had to circle up and explain why we deserved to sport one of the coveted OB badges at the end of the trip –also a rather intense experience.
Before dinner we’d have to circle up and someone would read a quote to which we’d give a moment of silence, often holding hands. Then after piling our plates, no one could eat until the night’s cooks said “peace and chow”.
Circling up was a frequent practice. As was unmitigated, unfiltered, monologuing about all things mundane. This is when my mood took a turn for the worse. I just don’t feel comfortable blabbing on to just anyone about ‘stuff and things’, and even though it was nice at first to hear people be so chatty and open, it quickly started to feel like an onslaught of “ME” shows. I could hear one guy’s monotone drone of a voice garble on for hours into the night. This is when I had the first inexorable realisation that I'm a freaking, full on, loner and that I have a big problem with not being able to do as I please. I started to feel as though I was in prison. Having to ask permission to go anywhere, having to eat and sleep only when told. Not even have the control to find peace and quiet when I needed it. This brought up the whole idea of “the greater good”. Are we supposed to suppress our individual urges for the group? Am I supposed to squelch my need for silence, thinking time, and solitude in order to satisfy rules I had no part in forming and in order to keep the group cohesive and functioning? Hmm. I’ll be mulling on that one for a bit.
Happy Halloween! Spinal Tap reunites!
Mils
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