Adventure and connection, 40 years on.

A definitely NOT digital photo of my original Outward Bound crew, circa 1985. That’s me in the center of the front row.

We met in 1985, ten perfect strangers who had signed up for a 10-day Outward Bound adventure in western North Carolina.

We came for all sorts of reasons, from healing from a bruising divorce to craving adventure to finally figuring out how to go on an outdoor experience you’d dreamed of your whole life.

That last person was me. I had always wanted to do Outward Bound, the venerable outdoor leadership program that puts strangers together doing difficult outdoor skills that teach connection, collaboration, endurance — and patience. We did rock climbing, rappelling, whitewater canoeing and a high ropes course. There was even a solo, an extended period of time alone in the woods, one of the features Outward Bound is known for.

Why did I want to do it? I can only tell you that I’ve always enjoyed testing myself, and I love the outdoors, even though, at the time we did our adventure, I lived in a fifth-floor apartment in the middle of Manhattan. Truthfully, I didn’t think about my motivations too much. I was 25, after all. How hard could it be to do this 10-day trip and write about it?

I revealed my little secret — that I would eventually be writing about our adventure in the magazine where I worked — pretty early on. I worried that my crew members would be standoffish and even mad about being scoped by a journalist, but by that time the enormity of what we said we’d do — back over a cliff holding onto nothing but a rope? Top off a day of bouldering with a several-mile run? — was taking its toll on all of us. I think my fellow adventurers had bigger things on their minds than what I might eventually write. I certainly did.

Then, as we made our way through those eventful days, something magical happened. We began connecting in a real way. We were as vulnerable as we might ever be, awkward, frightened. Those strangers began to become something more. We are all so different, but when you ask someone to help push you over some of the most difficult physical obstacles you’ve ever faced, the connection is authentic.

And long lasting: Last weekend we met to celebrate 40 — FORTY! — years of knowing each other. We used to meet yearly at a rustic cabin or secluded beach house; these days, we no longer choose reunion spots adjacent whitewater opportunities or miles-long hikes, and we don’t see each other nearly as much. But we are still deeply connected.

One of our group has died — we miss you, Lee! — and a few of us have health and mobility issues that make it hard to travel (we missed you, too, Rose, Paul and Lindsey). We’ve lost parents and spouses, had weddings, babies and scary diagnoses. There for a while we didn’t see much of each other, but we are so grateful for Pat, who has kept us connected all these years. She is always the first to wish each of us happy birthday on our special days and has gone above and beyond to help us stay in touch.

I am the youngest member of the group, not a distinction I name much any more. At our most recent reunion, we soon realized that I’m the only one of the group who still works a regular, full-time job. Which means I got an up-close look at five other fascinating approaches to retirement.

I have to say that it looks a lot better than I anticipated. The question that I always secretly ask about retirement — “what in the world do you DO all day?” — was answered over and over by my fascinating friends. Maybe for the first time, retirement looked kind of, well, interesting.

Anne calls it her hobby-job, tutoring kids in math before she’s off to play competitive tennis and pickleball. Pat and Iris have both traveled to amazing places with people they love; Iris is at work on (another) book. John, a retired attorney, has read deeply into his many and varied interests; I think he has every presidential biography there is on his Kindle. And Barry recently wrote jokes and songs for a satirical political review in his hometown, then participated as a member of the cast — he even danced!

My fascinating friends, 40 years later. April 2025.

My Outward Bound friends might be outliers — they’ve always been interesting and curious and willing to try new things. Which, of course, is how we all ended up doing Outward Bound in the first place.

But now that we’re all, um, forty years older, I see how lucky we were to find each other. I see how much I’ve learned from each of them. And how lucky we are to still be sharing the grand adventure of our lives together.

See you again in a couple of years, friends.