I have no memory of landing in Anchorage, of staying in a hotel, of meeting anyone from the Outward Bound group. There is only a blank space in my head between the plane taking off and me standing at the edge of the Little Nelchina River.
For three months, I did not know what it meant to be alone. I had prepared for crevasses, grizzlies, long days and hard nights. I had not prepared for the proximity of eight individuals pressed up against all of my faults, poking and prodding at my passive nature, my reserve, my desire to stay within my own walls.