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Myyurt-matesarestillasleep,
soItiptoeoutto
light a fire,watchedby a green-brown frognotmuchbigger
thanmy thumb.Breakfast is an apple,ahandful of oatmeal
andcoffee filtered throughagymsock.Wesitaround the fire
for a bit, Josh sharing a fewof his injury stories (“I hadbits
ofmuscle fiber onmy shirt”).Thenhe puts us throughour
morningexercises,oneofwhich involvesahybridofpush-up,
squat-thrust andcoercive interrogation technique.It’sawful.
Next up is amockmountain rescue. In the driving rain,
weputmakeshiftsplintsonClaire’spretendbroken leg,then
heaveherontoastretchermadeofshirtsandbranches,which
wehavetocarryupamudslide.Atthetop,wearetoldto light
asignal fire,whichresults ina flurryof interferinghandsand
overlappingadvice.“Tampon!”
In shows like“Lost”and“TheWalkingDead,”itbecomes
clear prettyquicklywho the leader is going tobe.In real life,
leadership contests tend tobemore chaotic, like first graders
chasinga soccerball arounda field.Our groupmostlyworks
wellasaunit,buttherearetimeswheneveryoneisdelegatingto
everyoneelse,particularlywhen itcomestofires.Sparkmakers
areeverywhere,butwoodgatherersareveryhard to find.
Havingabandoned thesignal fire (andClaire),weshovea
fewhandfuls of processed turkey intoourmouths and start
running up and down a hill, counting our steps.Next,we
plunge into an icy river.Thewater is rib-high, fast-moving,
sowe form a kind of conga line to get across. It’s a lovely
spot, the river sweeping in awide arc through the trees,but
we’re toobusynotdrowning to trulyappreciate it.“If I fall,”
Iwhisper to Juan,grippinghiswaist,“I’mnot lettinggo.”
Next,wedo some compasswork, fumble a fewknots and
begin the debate about who’s gathering firewood for the
eveningmeal.Theonly realmomentsofpeaceare spentwith
the trowel,deep in thewoods,and I amgrateful enough for
these that I can almost forget the bears that are lookingon.
Butthen,squattingbesideatree,Ihearrustling.Something is
there.Something iscoming.OhGod,it’sa…Claire!“Sorry!”
we shout toeachother.“Sorryyyy!”
Dinner is anubof fish.I go tobedhungry anddamp, too
tired to sleep.And so it goes for the rest of theweek: the
climbing,the teetering,theendless trudging.Everyoneseems
tohandle this stuffOK,exceptme,bespectacled andblobby,
wobblingalongaropeabovearushingstream(intowhichIfall
withadespairingbray):This isnotworkingout at all.
Fear and exhaustion are a potent cocktail, particularly
laced with hunger and humiliation. This explains the
methods used in military boot
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