Early morning. Sleeping bags on deck.

It’s difficult to describe what happens in 22 days on a Pulling Boat.  Oh sure, it’s easy to go through the flow of the day with you. Each morning, the captain of the day will wake up the crew at sunrise for a dip in the ocean. I hope you remembered to stuff your bathing suit into the foot of your sleeping bag to “dry” it off the night before, otherwise you could be facing a slightly damp and possibly chilled bathing suit for that very refreshing dip! You come to appreciate the beautiful sensation of crawling out of the warm cocoon of your sleeping bag and peeling back just enough of the tarp to feel the morning dew and the brisk salt air. This is my favorite part of the day, simply because you know after your whole crew dips that you are awake, alive, on an incredible adventure I a beautiful place and more simply, this is the part of the day where we get HOT DRINKS!

Taking the "dip" on a warm day.

I will admit the iconic Maine Coast Sailing course daily dip was not my favorite part of the day when I first trained as an Outward Bound instructor 4 years ago. On this June day in Maine the 3rd day of my first course it was pretty much the nastiest weather to have to dip in, the wind was East by South and blowing 20kts with gusts to 25kts, the wind had shifted unexpectedly in the night we were no longer protected from the shore, so wide open and exposed we were and up the Mill River the wind was blowing the rain and cold 54 degree air on our bare skin, water temperature that morning was 50 degrees.

“How” I thought to myself, “how can I get in this water?” I am not this hard core. The physical challenge to submerge myself in that water was quelled by my mental ability to get through that moment un-nerved. It defined me and expanded my knowledge on how mind over matter is an essential skill to life.  My mind was cleared in the icy waters that morning.  The texture of the water on my skin was closer to the feeling you get when you roll a Slurpee around in your mouth, tiny grains of ice and a cool feeling nearly leading to a brain freeze, you stop the brain freeze by opening your mouth just a bit as if to cool off the ice, funny how that seems to work.  I wanted to stop this feeling from going any deeper than the skin, yet as I continued to slip further into the North Atlantic waters I felt exhilarated so much so that I shot back to the surface like a torpedo back into the safety of the boat. There was something calming that had overcome my mind that morning and it extended to my body’s ability to adapt. A dip is what we call it, conditioning is its outcome.

So now, the hot drinks. Me, I drink copious amounts of coffee.  Most drink hot cocoa and some partake in tea. I have even met a few who opt out of hot drinks all together, although I can’t even imagine that choice. It’s a special moment in the day to have your drink, get warm and shake off the salt water to get the day going. All around on board, there is so much going on as the entire crew is busy and buzzing with NOAA weather, tarp and lines getting stowed, the bilge is being pumped out, and breakfast is being made.  As every day is part of an expedition meaning we move to a new location, our days navigation plan is laid out and the evening anchorage is chosen to reach for.

“It’s not about the destination it’s about the journey.” This is a favorite quote found in the Readings book on every course so these exact words have been read, spoken and remembered by countless Outward Bound students before me.  Every expedition is different because the experience is created by the crew and no group is alike. Like lobster is the catalyst to butter, sailing is the catalyst to the adventure of an Outward Bound course.

Once the sails are set and the anchor is hauled up we fall off, find some breeze and set our course. The most incredible part of life on a Pulling Boat is that she will sail as well as we do, responding to our organized command. The dominant sense from being aboard such an open craft in all conditions is that we are always safe and on the exact type of vessel we need to explore the shallow coves and island anchorages ashore, as thousands have done for decades before us in exactly the same fashion. The privilege of having access to remote and uninhabited islands and areas not many other boats can get into. Everyday someone makes you laugh, something pushes you beyond your expectations and every day you see somewhere breathtakingly beautiful.

It makes daily dips more than worth it. Trust me.

“Chris,” I said, It’s really going to be a bummer if you stop on this hill.”

“Cisco,” he replied to me, shaking his sweaty face, “I’m all about bummers.” Then he stood tall and perked up to see to the back of the 11-person crew. “Captain!” he shouted. “I don’t mean to intimidate you, Sir, but we got a hell of a climb coming up ahead.”

The Captain adjusted his sled’s hip belt and didn’t look up. “Well, bring it on then. I’m ready. I want this hill.”

“We’re up in thirty!” came the call from the back of the line. The crew passed the message forward and the train chugged on up the packed-snow logging road towards camp.

With four Veteran’s courses under my belt, this was my first experience working with an intact unit. I already admired the military culture’s integrity, camaraderie, and, as they say, ability to “embrace the suck.” This crew, which included pilots and crews that have been at war since 2001 and seen between 14 and 20 tours of combative duty, brought that admiration to a new level. From washing dishes in the dining hall to packing food and gear in the warehouse to digging out tent platforms and snow kitchens in the Colorado backcountry, they worked hard, laughed loud and were not late for anything. Ever.

Photo Credit: Francisco Tharp

This groups came to Leadville, Colorado looking for some awareness of and experience in a high altitude, mountainous, winter environment, much like the one they see in the mountains of Afghanistan. They also wanted to build some awareness of their team dynamics and leaderships structures which, unlike some military units, tends to blur the line between ranks as situationally appropriate. They also wanted some retreat style time out of their normal routine to spend time with team members who they don’t work with regularly. We spent one day on low ropes initiatives like the Mohawk Walk and Tension Triangle. Then we went ice climbing at Chalk Creek falls, where a 40-foot pour over freezes into an ideal vertical play ground. We explored avalanche rescue and avalanche terrain management and finally headed up into the backcountry for an overnight expedition to experience the winter environment at its fullest and practice with constructing improvised snow shelters.

Photo Credit: Francisco Tharp

At the end of the week I had learned as much as this group of unique students. The opportunity to work with our nation’s soldiers has been a highlight of my Outward Bound career, and I am continually inspired by, heartbroken by, and entertained by their stories. Mainly, I’ve learned that OB staff and participants and Military staff share common trials and tribulations: the deep fulfillment of meaningful work, the personal stress of spending long periods of time away from home, friends, and family; the difficulty of sharing what our experiences are like with those who weren’t there; and the unparalleled community that arises amongst people who share intense challenge. It has been my experience that soldiers past and present truly serve, strive, and do not yield.

Of course, before the crew headed home, we held a pin ceremony and handed out

Photo Credit: Francisco Tharp

certifications, patches and compass rose stickers. This course was different, though. The students held a “pin ceremony” for us in return. In thanks for our week’s work, the captain of the unit awarded my co-instructor and I coins, which is a military tradition of honor and respect. He also awarded a coin to one of the week’s stand-out participants. In closing, I spoke to the group from my heart. “Thank you,” I said for your service to our country. Outward Bound has a rich history in relationship to with the military, and I am so proud that our organization has maintained it. I think the veteran’s program is OB at its very best. Outward Bound is my way of serving our country and our world. It has truly been an honor to serve you in this capacity.”

In fitting style we held the sentimental experience for a brief moment, and then the silence was broken by a rough joke, raucous laughter and the commotion of the next mission: washing dishes.

Walker- How can you say no to that face?

You know that moment when you’re packing for a week long trip and you wonder, “which sleeping bag will I need” or “what pack should I bring?” You may consider size, weight, or sentimental attachment. Well, do you ever wonder which 12 dogs to bring? We do. At Outward Bound’s Minnesota dog sledding program, we have 63 options. From fast and light to powerful and burly. And each wants to come.

As you walk into the dogyard, Walker will be the first dog on your right and looks the part of the husky with his gray and white nose, furry ears and gentle bark. Sentimental attachment makes me partial to Walker. He was on my team when I was a student in 2008. A couple of rows back is Eagle. He looks more like he’s going on a fox hunt than about to be cast in the latest Hollywood rendition of Call of the Wild. But bring out the harness and he will practically put it on himself. Each dog is full of their own personality as varied as their appearance.

Musher's Cabin in the dogyard, built by semester students and adorned with signs from past dogs, including the Mawson dogs.

To enter the dogyard is to be among centuries of accumulated Outward Bound and arctic travel wisdom and experience. Copper, Tally, and Jasper have each been part of 1,000 mile expeditions. They know how to be part of a team, work hard, have fun and do it all again tomorrow. Many of the other dogs were born and raised right here at VOBS, Voyageur Outward Bound School. The musher’s cabin in the front of the dog yard is adorned with signs of past dogs. Some are notable for the kangaroo in the corner of the sign. In 1993 all dogs were removed from the Antarctic and many of the huskies from the Australian Mawson station were brought here, to our dogyard.

Ready to go!

Twice a day all of the dog poop has to be scooped, all of the dogs fed kibble and given “soup”, which is really just a fancy word for water. Tonight I was assigned to dog chores. There are only 13 dogs in the yard. The rest are out on trail, doing what they love. After feeding, it’s always hard for me to walk away but as I left the yard, 13 dogs faced the full moon and a howl of gratitude arose into the North Woods night. The call of the wild indeed.

Staying Warm in Winter

Much of the concentration of camping and traveling in winter focuses on techniques used to stay warm and comfortable. By understanding your body’s own ability to regulate temperature, the mechanisms of heat loss, and techniques that minimize heat loss and maximize heat production, you will be able to ensure your warmth and happiness in a winter environment.

Thermal Regulation

Humans are able to maintain an almost constant body temperature in spite of wide swings in the temperature of the environment. This control is achieved in two ways: through physiologic responses that increase or decrease heat loss and cannot be voluntarily controlled (such as shivering) and by deliberate actions to obtain greater protection from cold or to produce heat (such as putting on clothing or eating).

Mechanisms of Heat Loss

Heat is lost from the skin in four ways: convection, conduction, evaporation, and radiation. We stay comfortable when the heat we produce by metabolizing food and water equals the heat we lose to the environment.

Tips for Minimizing Heat Loss

Use a layering system for clothing, and choose synthetic clothing over cotton because it wicks water away from the skin, preventing conductive and evaporative cooling.

• Avoid excessive sweating by removing layers as you begin to warm up. Take off insulating and/or windproof layers before you begin vigorous activity and put them back on when you stop exercising (before you get cold). When working hard, take off your hat and mittens, unzip your jacket, and roll up your sleeves.
• Keep clothes dry by avoiding contact with snow. Never sit or lie directly on the snow and wear wind- or waterproof layers to protect your insulating clothes.
• Use vapor barrier liners (plastic bags) between layers of socks or felt liners, so that they don’t become wet from sweat.
• Use gloves when handling metal or fuel. If gloves or mittens become wet change into a dry pair and dry the wet pair.
• Rest and camp out of the wind to avoid convective heat loss: use tarps, tick stands of trees or snow banks for shelter.
• Keep warm air trapped inside your sleeping bag – keep it zipped up all the way, tighten the collar over your shoulders, and the hood snug around your face. Avoid breathing into the bag, so that moisture doesn’t accumulate.
• If your sleeping bag is too roomy, fill air spaces with extra clothing or tie up the foot end with a bandana.

Understanding and minimizing heat loss is only part of keeping warm in winter. Next post, I will share tips for maximizing heat production. I hope this gives you some good ideas for your next outdoor adventure. Stay warm!

Instructing Dogs to Dolphins was a significant highlight of my seven years working for Outward Bound’s Florida Sea Program. There are so many reasons why this course is unique and special. The students arrived, in Florida, already a cohesive and well-seasoned watch and continued to rise up to the challenges thrown at them. We sailed over 500 miles, exploring parts of the coast and islands that have never been visited by a sea program vessel before.

Rowing through the locks out of Lake Okeechobee waterway.

As the students learned to perfect their sailing skills, they also learned about the history of the Everglades and southwest Florida development. Our course track took us from the heart of Lake Okeechobee, through sugar plantations, down the developed Gulf Coast and back into the Everglades. A desire to read and learn about the history of the area and its effects on present day life were strengthened by the actual places we passed and the service projects we participated in along the way. The scenery was beautiful, and enhanced by a tremendous amount of wildlife. We saw alligators in the lake, manatees snuggling with our boat at anchor, dolphins glowing in our bow wake during night sails, and of course lovely pink birds.

There are two memories I will always treasure from the course. The first, our trip up the Chatham River in the Ten Thousand Islands. We short tacked up and down a river barely wide enough for a boat; the students executing all maneuvers with confidence and grace. A passing canoe stopped to shout, “weʼve never seen a sail boat in here before.” The second was our final day on the water. After a six-day autonomous final, the boys reached Largo Sound and swam a mile for the final challenge. All students finished exhausted, yet found the strength to cheer until everyone was back aboard. They then sailed the sharpie back to the wall at Pennekamp exhibiting great pride in their accomplishments. The length of time spent together, the number of challenges faced and conquered, the confidence gained and the memories created were all evident in the six smiling faces.

We have a variety of semester courses to choose from and they may be eligible for academic credit. If you are interested in experiencing Dogs to Dolphins this spring, there’s still time to enroll. Read more about the course by clicking here or call us at 866-467-7651.

Click on the image above for the the full-size infographic.

Holiday Parties

Unless you will be out on our Colorado skiing and snowboarding course next week, you probably still have some family gatherings or maybe a New Year’s party to plan? If so, make sure to use metal flatware and real glasses and plates. The disposable stuff is easy, but it is more expensive and wastes resources. Plus, using real plates and glasses is way classier and does more justice to your delicious food and holiday drinks. For cans and glass bottles, make sure to set up a recycling bin for your guests. We do this at Outward Bound gatherings – every little bit counts.

Holiday Travel

If you are not going to be sailing the Florida Keys with us, and you are traveling over the holidays, try renting a hybrid car. Budget can hook you up with a hybrid through their website. There are several websites that help you find hybrids from a variety of companies including Enterprise and Hertz. Take a look at Rent A Hybrid Car’s site.

If your holiday travels are simply day trips to the in-laws or maybe the local ski area, try carpooling. This will save you gas money and the added stress of having to drive, with only one driver for a whole car-ful of people.

Make a few changes to help out the environment this holiday season. Believe it or not, your efforts do make a difference in the fight to preserve our environment and the natural spaces that Outward Bound uses everyday.

I hope you have a happy, safe and green holiday season!

two-day solo

I’d had a wonderful time by myself for four September days on a tiny island off the coast of Maine, daydreaming; gathering rose hips, sea- urchin roe, and mussels; sleeping on a bed of leaves and pine needles; and watching herons. This is to be a shorter solo, but the question of shelter is more pressing. Chris mentions that there’s a snowstorm coming, probably by evening. I’m only a mile or so from camp, but the feeling is— and is meant to be— one of isolation.

I stand still for a while, looking around. There’s no wind, no movement, just a gray day. After a moment I notice there’s a touch of rose in the young birch trees. I startle myself when I clear my throat.

I ski around, looking for a place to rest. I get lucky— there’s a large fallen tree; the thick base of the trunk is propped up by the roots. I clear the snow away, using a snowshoe as a shovel. I find enough long sticks to make a lean- to, tile the roof with blocks of snow. I serve them onto the roof with the tail of a ski. It takes more time and energy than I’d thought. It’s midafternoon. I eat a carrot and saltines, save the raisins. I climb inside to check the roof— still some gaps. My leather mittens are oozing yellow water again, but this is a help— when I slap more snow on top, it’ll be wet, and then it’ll freeze, making a more stable roof.

I move my pack inside. My stove is a #10 can with holes in the side, my pot a #10 can without holes. I gather twigs and light a fire. Fill the pot with snow. I lay the snowshoes down as bedsprings, some spare clothes as the mattress. I turn around when I hear a plop. My stove is too near the mouth of my shelter, and the roof is melting. I manage to get my mittens on and move both cans. Didn’t the guy in the Jack London story make the same mistake? Built his fire under a tree, and the snow on the branches fell and put it out. I should have known better.

It’s dark. I make soup by throwing in a bouillon cube, a carrot, half an onion, and half a potato. I have to keep feeding twigs in through the holes. It takes forever until the vegetables are soft. Worth the wait. I open the one tin— it’s olive drab, Army surplus, stenciled “Chocolate Nut Roll.” With an effort of will, I eat only half.

It begins to snow. This is a good thing. It’ll insulate the roof even more. I’m feeling snug, even smug, as I crawl into my sleeping bag.

Just as I’m falling asleep I feel a warm breath on my cheek. I lie very still. This fallen tree makes such a good den, something else might be holed up here. A bear? The space is too small, but a porcupine . . . I arm myself with a ski pole. My flashlight is dim from the cold— I should have kept it in my sleeping bag, along with my boots. Nothing under the tree trunk, but I feel warm air. At last I realize that it’s warmth from the decomposing bits of leaves and twigs under the armpit, so to speak, of the uprooted tree. I curl up peacefully.

The next day passes in a lovely waking dreaminess. It has snowed six inches of several varieties of flakes. The weather was changing through the night and keeps changing all day. From placid white to a gusty blue- and- gray afternoon to a quiet gray twilight. I haven’t done much during the day except stroll around. I did whittle a wooden spoon, but otherwise just looked. I considered trees. I watched the moon rise. Behind a moving curtain of clouds I found the Big Dipper, the only constellation I know except for Orion.

I wake up at first light. I hear a noise. A crackling or even crunching. Someone, something, walking in the snow? I hold still, not breathing. The noise stops. Maybe nothing. When I breathe again I hear it. After a few cycles of holding my breath and then breathing again, it becomes clear that the noise is my own breath soughing across the edge of my sleeping-bag hood. Okay, two embarrassing false alarms. I laugh at myself once, stretch, and then curl up peacefully.

When I wake up again the day is undecided between high blue sky and low gray clouds. I decide to sleep until this question of color is resolved, but Alex arrives on skis to roust me. “Just follow my tracks.” When I get to the logging trail, I catch up to the rest of the clan. We are happy to see one another. It seems a long time. We would have hugged, but we were on skis.

When we glided into camp, Chris had a fire going. He’d been all the way back to the lodge and brought an orange for each of us. We’d had almost the same experience, hour for hour. Lisa and I had heard the same owls. When the sun was out we’d all worshipped it. Marcy actually washed her hair. Lon washed a shirt. We’d all tensed up at noises that turned out to be nothing. We’d been sown like seeds the length of the valley, all sprouting similar thoughts. For the rest of the trip there was a marked increase in energetic tenderness for one another.

Author and Outward Bound Alum, John Casey.

Excerpted from ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT by John Casey. Copyright © 2011 by John Casey. Excerpted by permission of Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

I was a student on a semester course. We were in the Canyonlands of Southeast Utah; pretty much spending most of our days looking for water. Just a few days before Thanksgiving we were set to divide into separate travel groups. The night before we decided to have a big group Thanksgiving dinner. Included in our last re-ration supplies were all the ingredients we needed: instant potatoes, powdered gravy packets, instant stuffing, packets of turkey, and even a few cans of pumpkin. We had been lugging around this extra feast weight for a week and were more than ready to eat it all!

At the end of a riotously fun group bake off, we all were sitting around a fire with our bowls of turkey, mashed potatoes, and stuffing. We even managed a pumpkin cake that turned out to be super delicious! As we settled in around the fire the question was asked by one of our group, “what are you most thankful for right now?”

Now, I’ve been asked that question, and answered it, many times in my life on Thanksgiving. Being out on course, whether it’s backpacking in the mountains, white water canoeing, canyoneering in Utah, or any of the other places courses are run, really puts you in a place of consideration and reflection. I thought of my family. I thought of how it felt that I had won the cosmic lottery to even be in the position to do what I was doing, in the amazing land we were traveling in, with a great group of people that I was forming strong bonds with.

Our group separated into three travel groups the next day and went different ways for the next week. On Thanksgiving day some of us were crossing the Dirty Devil multiple times, some were settled in camp fasting, and some were on solo. We were separated by distance, but our shared geography and shared experience of being out on course, with the normal trappings of Thanksgiving in the front country stripped away, allowed us so much more space and time and perspective. Because of that, and many more things, I would hazard a guess that all of us were thankful for so much.

Have you been out on course around Thanksgiving? Share your own backcountry Thanksgiving memories…

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Dylan Kilfoil.

Earlier this year, I was like many people I know and probably a lot like many people you know. I was your typical kid. I had my share of miserable chores at home. I had my material things too, like my phone and my TV.

It was my life.

But I knew it wasn’t me. It wasn’t everything I could do, wasn’t everything I wanted, wasn’t everything I needed.

I knew I could be more. I didn’t want to be just another kid wasting their life in front of a TV screen.

But my problem wasn’t simply time management. There were real issues and questions in my life. And most of all, I struggled with simply knowing who I was.

Like most of you, I also struggled and still struggle with the impacts of 9/11. My Father, a firefighter at the time, was one of the first-responders to the tragedy.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was just like any other day, until classmate after classmate was being taken out of class.

The first student leaving wasn’t anything unusual. Then another classmate left, and another. When my best friend left, I was worried and scared.

Before I knew it, I was being picked up by my brother. When I got home I saw my mom crying with the phone in her hand. The TV was showing the two planes crashing into the Towers.

It gave me the chills; it made me scared; it made me cry. So I ran into my dad’s room. But he wasn’t there. He had gone to work at the firehouse that day, and I immediately knew where he was.

Three days later my dad finally came home. Exhausted, with a bandaged hand, sore back and coughing up black mucus.

I asked him not to go back. He told me he had to, that he wanted to, and that people needed him. He took a shower, grabbed some tools, gave us all a big hug and kiss, then left.

My father showed me what it looks like to face challenge and adversity and to find the courage to “be more”.

He was my inspiration. He was my teacher.

But Outward Bound was my classroom.

I decided early in the year that I wanted to go on the 22-day rafting trip and mountain expedition in beautiful central Oregon.

My course took me places I never dreamed of! We hiked for miles every day. We got up early, REALLY EARLY. I didn’t even know 4:30 in the morning existed.

When I wasn’t battling 8-foot high freezing cold swells on the Deschutes River, I was learning to hydrate and prepare dinner over a small camp stove.

We climbed a mountain and took in views from 10,000 feet. At the summit, the whole group celebrated with one big hug. And when I signed the summit book, I wrote “life is about moments like this, being with a group of strangers accomplishing a task that is solely in the hands of these strangers.”

Sixteen hours later, when we returned to camp, I was not the same person.

Climbing that mountain forced me to dig deep. I can’t say I just “found” courage or motivation. I didn’t just find it there lying on the ground next to my sleeping bag. I formed it. I crafted it.

Late every night after dinner and camp was set, I made time to think back on what I had accomplished that day. I would be covered in dirt, sitting up in my tent that was usually half falling over and would write for hours in my journal.

I wrote goals for myself and outlined what is important to me. I discovered my desire to be a better son, a student with a GPA higher than just average, a traveler studying abroad in Italy.

After my course, the issues I struggled to face before no longer held me back. I had answers, real answers. Not just the ones you read in a book or hear from your parents.

Without the 9/11 Scholarship, my course would have not been possible. I will never forget the people I met, the breathtaking views and the amazing challenges I faced.

If you find yourself wondering where your contributions go and what they do, I ask that you look at me. The gifts that people made, the 9/11 Sholarship and scholarships like it, have a real impact on the lives of real kids.

I would now like to take a moment to ask my father Roger Kilfoil to stand so I can thank him for inspiring me to get out there on my course and so we can all thank him for his service on 9/11.

I am currently enrolled in Suffolk Community College studying Business Administration and have plans for this degree and beyond.

Without the 9/11 Scholarship and all of your support, I don’t what direction I’d be headed in today. But I’m certain of the direction I’m headed in now.

Thank you.

He was in the field at the time – once again proving how truly deserving of this award he is.

“Duba has an amazing intuition about what a group or individual needs at any given moment. He’s able to assess a group or individual and then tailor the next activity to match their needs. And he does it with total grace and Jedi mastery,” Nicole Parentice, who has worked with Duba in the Southwest Program, said.

Annually bestowed to one who exemplifies the qualities and character of our Founding Trustee, Joshua L. Miner III, and whose commitment and contributions to Outward Bound have improved the lives of students and staff, the Miner award couldn’t be awarded to a more appropriate person.

With 26 years of field experience, Paul started with Outward Bound in the 1980s, and his journey has taken him many, many miles and on numerous outdoor trips. Through canyons and rivers where he’s led rafting trips, worked as an instructor, a course director and staff trainer to mountains where he’s assisted with mountaineering and backpacking adventures, he has worked with all manner of people and course types, and he embodies the tenacity, compassion, self-sacrifice, curiosity, and undefeatable spirit that are the core of Outward Bound and exemplified by Josh Miner – right down to the mischievous glint in his sparkling, blue eyes, just like Josh’s.

Gracefully balancing the big picture from mission to safety, from staff to students, from self-awareness to mindfulness of others, Paul is a nuanced professional. He brings both heart and head to the job. His colleagues and students describe him as selfless, supportive above the call of duty, quietly inspiring, tireless, and full of grace and humility. Our students can be in no better hands and our staff mentored by few of par. Paul personifies Outward Bound.

In his personal life Paul is a devoted partner to Karen, an actively involved uncle and a high-altitude gardener. He completed a Master’s in Public Administration, served two years on Gunnison City Council and eight years as a Director of ESL with local immigrants in his own community. As a tri-lingual person himself, he worked a course run completely in Spanish with Teachers from Puerto Rico.

Any conversation with Paul about Outward Bound reveals his deep belief in its potential gifts and positive impacts for individuals and groups in our world.  Ever at the center of our organization, the mission – and the students with whom it is shared – is ever at the center of Paul’s.  Paul’s most recent passion has been course directing and instructing Outward Bound Veterans Courses, demonstrating his ever-strong commitment to Vets from Iraq and Afghanistan.

So again, congratulations, Paul – wherever you may be…