My recent interactions with various outdoor adventure facilitators and instructors brought up the topic of the prestigious and well known Outward Bound Singapore (OBS) that I had interviewed for back in 2018. It conjured up lousy memories of the 2-day "interview", and I tried to get my head around what they were doing as I summarised their programme to my camp peers - every activity was created for failure.
Failure: lack of success or fulfilment, leading to defeat and frustration.
Shah from Beyond Expedition mentioned that when he studied in Republic Polytechnic's Outdoor & Adventure Learning diploma, they covered on failure in the course and how to manage it. Though other guys simply said it was a very military-style training they made us go through in that programme (which was not what I'd signed up for anyway). Facilitator Bryan at Focus Adventure talked about how there were 3 layers to the Learning Zone Model - comfort, challenge and panic zones - and the optimal means of learning was to place people in challenging situations just outside the comfort zone. He quipped that the OBS facilitator "interview" seemed to have pushed many people into panic mode.
But I want to see what I can learn from this disappointing programme nonetheless.
It Starts
I should have figured something was amiss when I was given a No. 4 jersey that visibly had mould on it. It was left damp for a long time in a plastic bag that the administrator fished it out of, but she helped to wash it out before handing it back to me wet. We were passed a booklet on the vision and mission and other safety details of OBS to peruse... I hadn't expected the need to memorise it when they took it back, blindfolded us and shoved all 35 of us on a boat to Pulau Ubin, bombarding us with questions on what the booklet had said and politely calling us failures in as many ways as possible for the 25 minutes of the journey.
We jumped out of the boat (in lifejackets) and each swam for a rowboat with wooden oars. Night had fallen and we were instructed to coordinate all rowboats to move as one in a general direction down the coast. Sheena, my friend I signed up with, was ahead so she attempted to direct us together. I think I scared a lady labelled No. 5 in my boat when I shrieked at Sheena to repeat herself (she was really far off). After 20 or so minutes, the instructors made us all turn 180-degrees in the opposite direction towards the landing site near OBS camp (they made it feel like our 1st failed activity). Our bags were dumped in a pile near where the boat docked, which we then had to carry and run after the instructors leading us.
Now I'm unsure on the sequence of events as I recollect, since this was 5 years ago, but I know 2 hours in I had determined I was not going to sign on (I use this military term because it was essentially National Service training). We were barked at to unload hiking bags, jerry cans and various inventory from the store room that fit only 5 people while the rest of us did a human chain outside. In full "tekan (bully)" mode, they made us stand at attention, put everything back and take everything out again 5 or more times because we were too slow for their liking. We were told to repack our bags and take only the essentials (I missed my additional set of wet attire as a result of the 5-time resets) and split into small groups to do different activities. Ours was 8 laps of swimming first.
I had spent 3 months training in swimming to get used to water and to swim faster, but even with Sheena's help (she's a qualified lifeguard), I tired quickly and couldn't coordinate my breathing and flapping effectively. The time to beat was 12 minutes but I took an additional 10 I think. By the time I got out, everyone had changed out so I had to do so without towelling down. We then got a CPR lecture and beatdown session (where my soul left my body), and then learned to navigate with a map and compass; and I taught my group knots and lashings. When we fell in, I noticed No. 5 was not with us and tried to raise it with an instructor, but another girl No. 3 said she left. I felt it was partly my fault she might have been affected by my screeching back on the boat.
Night Falls
Split into teams, some instructors followed us as we spent a couple of hours trekking in the dark forest with our headlamps, looking for ridiculous positions on the map that was off the beaten track and that the instructors insisted we hike to. When we assumed to have found the spot, they changed the place or made us turn back without explanation, leaving us unsure if we had gotten it right or did something wrong. We spent a few more hours playing supposedly team building activities around the fields, like Spider's Web but the gaps are impossible for anyone to fit through so they forced us to restart every time the 2nd person attempted and touched the web; or making everyone sit on rusty metal barrels but instructing us to move them 10m while seated. Through each game, a new leader was appointed or volunteered each time, and they'd grill that person for the risks or safety concerns and what he might do to circumnavigate potential hazards. I was tired so I mumbled to the leader a potential answer: tetanus.
It was only then that I finally saw the pattern of all the failed activities. We had not achieved a single goal. In a brief 1-minute downtime, another guy said this was how they break our spirit, to see who could still maintain their positivity and push on despite failures. We finally caught the drift. Hence if the objective was to fail, at least we knew what to aim for and not feel so bad about it after all.
They assembled all the groups in a forest clearing with a wooden low obstacle course structure in front of us. The new mission was something like making everyone hold onto or at least touch the makeshift stretcher with dummy weight, and walk together across 2 parallel logs. Balancing was tough to synchronise and there was not enough space on the next platform for everyone to safely fit, so of course someone was constantly falling off and we never got it past the 1st balancing beam obstacle of the entire course.
We all gathered and sat in an open square near the pool for a reprieve and to refuel - biscuits and snacks and powdered sports drink which I poured straight into my shared water bottle. I call it shared because we were provided identical canisters, and we exchanged bottles so many times when we hastily grabbed whatever was in front of us to scramble for the next activity. At least someone else would be surprised they got a sweet drink. And I forgot to mention the two 5-gallon jerry cans we all took turns lugging around from the start, running uphill and downhill after the lead instructors. After a while, we tried to spill as much of it out while refilling our bottles so we didn't have to carry so much.
I was rather inspired by the tenacity and encouragements from some of the male participants, who hollered at us to press on and took the burden of the jerry can and volunteered themselves to take the beatdowns from the instructors. I was initially so overwhelmed and controlling myself from beating somebody up that I hadn't thought about the others. The guys demonstrated that it was possible to remain sane and still thrive and show care despite the extreme stress and risk of our wellbeing. So when some of their strength started waning through the night and they couldn't keep up the pace, I took over that role of cheering them on and running ahead with the water can to provide them some relief so they could focus on catching up (not closing the gap meant the instructor would chase us back to the starting point and start over). It was my small way of contributing to their success in hopefully getting a job at OBS and supporting them physically.
Now that we were sat and eating, we each had to give a stirring speech about our motivation for coming into OBS. Among the participants were a journalist, a geography teacher over 50 years old and No. 24 who had attempted OBS selection last time and was trying out again in hopes of getting on board. He had won the respect of everyone because he volunteered himself like tribute the most number times through all the activities we did (I hoped the best for him but felt he could do better by not joining). I would have liked to talk to each candidate personally and made their acquaintances as these were interesting people... But we were given none of that since we were loudly shamed when we talked even during down time, like Nazi officers preventing concentration camp prisoners from plotting their escape. The abuse of power was so blatant, and there were at least 15 instructors watching over us each time so we were quite closely monitored.
Anyway, the standard answer everyone gave in their speech was to impart the values of outdoor adventure education and to inspire students to love Mother Nature (which we sadly saw none of that for ourselves thus far). Sheena was her bubbly and joyful self; having taught arts and coached swimming to children and adults both, she was more in her element and did not at all seem fazed by the sheer stupidity of everything. She even made friends with 1 of the instructors, to my chagrin. I only stuck around so to support her and give her a fighting chance at joining the company, since she enjoyed herself way more than I did. I didn't want to spoil her mood by quitting.
We had started with about 30-35 people and a handful had left as the night wore on. So the sharing still took over an hour. Nonetheless, it made the programme a bit more bearable to know the fellow candidates I was suffering with.
After this, as some began to nod off, we were blindfolded again and made to walk in a Congo line into the forest, through some wooden structures of supposedly a fitness corner (it was too dark to tell even without the blindfold). This was meant to simulate claustrophobia apparently, and prepare us for the underground tunnel we were to crawl into. The mouth of the tunnel came up to my ribs. With helmets on, the 5 or so ladies were the last to enter it, but we found ourselves unable to go more than 2m in as it was already full. One of the ladies moved up a small slope of about 5% incline and 1m up and settled down on the ledge above, leaving me on the incline. We were told to sit down and wait for further instructions, so I did on that slope... for about an hour. My neck hurt and I couldn't get into a more comfortable position as No. 3 was immediately beside me. Sheena was thankfully at the exit and made her escape once on account of claustrophobia, but she was promptly thrown back in when she calmed down. I envied the guy who was happily snoring somewhere at the other end.
Dawn Breaks
When we came out, the sky was getting light. We trod back to the camp and grabbed our bottles and made our way to the high elements, by which time it was fully daylight. I had not slept but the morning recharged me for a bit, so I could hold a conversation with the instructor we were to interview with first. This was a round robin of interview and various high element challenges, so I was called for the chat first. I was given a piece of paper describing a bad situation in which an instructor was taking tired teenagers out to sea via kayak, a couple of them were lagging behind and a lightning storm had begun. I memorised it and had to explain how I would deal with the problem of the kayakers drifting off to sea while ensuring the safety of the group. I would not have started the expedition in the 1st place if they were not all fit for it, and a check on the weather forecast might better inform the decision not to launch. But the instructor insisted this was the inevitable situation now... So I said I would have all the teens beach on shore and go after the straying kayakers to encourage and pull them back. He said there was lightning and choppy waves and I had just become an additional unnecessary casualty, and he left it at that. I think if I had left the fictional teens lost at sea, that answer would also not be the correct one either way.
He then asked how the programme was so far and how I could improve. I got infuriated that he asked how I could improve, rather than how they should. I said it could go better, if I had gotten the chance to talk a bit more with the participants. I looked away so he couldn't see me tear up: "It encourages me when I can spur the team and cheer them on, and they get to be their best, and that we help each other be better together..." I had more to say but I was choking back tears, but there was nowhere to hide as I was sat face-to-face with this random instructor. I felt I was channeling a bit of Gandalf as I said that, recalling from The Hobbit movie when Galadriel asked, "Why the halfling?" and he confided, "Perhaps it is because I am afraid, and he gives me courage."
I stayed silent to indicate I was done, and then I got on with the elements of rock climbing, jumping for a pull-up bar at a height, and explaining what might be some risk assessments before we let students take part in each activity. I particularly felt like I had let No. 5 down when we waited by the rock wall and she asked what were some potential risks to prevent and overcome when leading students. I wasn't thinking and blurted, "Stay hydrated. Shade from the sun. And maybe the kids need to keep their nails short before they start climbing." But as I muttered there may not be time for nail-clipping, the instructor strode up and immediately questioned her on risk assessment. No. 5 said the students will need to keep their nails short and I wanted to interject, but he said that would be impractical, and gestured her to clip on the belay line. I made up for my idiocy by encouraging her on the wall and to use her legs to carry her weight. She reached the top of the 5m wall alright.
We trudged back to camp and prepped each of our bags at 10kg so we could complete a 1.6km walk with them on. We brisk walked the perimeter of a parade square for a few laps and I was shouted at not to jog (since it was a timed event I thought I'd go faster). The exercise was about speed walking with a weight I guess... none of the activities and their purposes were explained to us anyway.
We continued with some more inane team bonding activities at which we again couldn't accomplish anything. We did complete one if I remember: in our small group, each of us held the end of string that we tied to some moveable object, and I think the goal was to use it to nudge a ball from 1 end of the pavement to the other without touching a tight boundary made of rope. And we actually did it after multiple attempts, without much celebration at the end though. I was in a tired stupor here because this game contained less incessant talking from the instructors.
One other game was supposed to be about integrity I think, because they over-squeezed the group on a wooden pallet, in a kind of "Floor is Lava" game, and were told to use paper or hula hoops 2m away as the stepping stones. The only problem was keeping everyone balanced simultaneously on the short pallet without someone stepping off, and it took 15 minutes to fit everyone precariously on it. I was on the edge and to stay on as well as to hold us together, I had to hug a few people and grip their shoulders, we were packed much like peak period on the MRT pre-Covid. It was not an awkward position as the person in front of me was sideways, but an instructor asked aloud if I was uncomfortable or in a vulnerable position, and whether this was the best idea. He kept it up so long, I had a sudden urge to let go, step down and high kick him in the face. This game was poorly designed in the first place, and they had been forcing us to just do it quickly as they wanted. I said I was alright and comfortable and we could continue the game, trying to brush him off. But the instructor made the appointed leader have a good long look at me and everyone to step off to rethink our solution. We never got beyond the pallet.
High Noon
Everyone gathered for a lunch break of whatever snacks we had leftover from last night. I scarfed down something to upkeep my energy, in case they suddenly changed their mind and wanted us to start jogging on the spot (this we kept doing whenever we gathered en masse or during breaks, I believe to maintain our heart rate at a steady fat-burning stage). A young lady about my age came to brief us what would happen next, and somehow thought she would set the tone by shouting at us. Her pretty face was scrounged up like an angry cat snarling and hissing, her eyebrows and forehead furrowing furiously. I was in front with the jerry can so I had a front row seat to witnessing this up close, as well as being appointed the next leader.
Most of the team appeared to be in good spirits and still coherent, but it took a lot from me to talk and stand and see to their water refills. The next event was a hike into the forest for a rescue mission, and we were to be split into two. I was assigned 1 of 2 leaders and given a walkie-talkie. It was uneventful and I handled it in as boring and professional a manner as I could. As we received instructions over walkie on the 2 missing persons' last whereabouts and a potential hornet attack, we got closer to one exit of OBS' premises. An instructor was annoying me with persistent questions on risk assessment, safety of the team etc to distract and see if I could multi-task by still following orders over the walkie and communicate instructions with the team. Our missing person had run off the straight road and into the forest, though common sense would have been to take the easy path even if it led out the campsite (hornets don't care where you run). But on the instructor's command, we bushwhacked into the forest brush and found one of them hiding in a corner, being bitten by mosquitoes, pretending his arm was broken. My team was tired and pretended to administer first aid while I attended to the annoying instructor and questions about different levels of first aid and training. After escorting the missing person out, we now had to head over to the other group and help them with their injured person, a 100kg dummy on a stretcher which we had to lug back to camp. Our arms were numb holding onto the thin rope or poles on the sides of the stretcher, and we stopped every 5 minutes to switch people. By now even the buffer guys were not so helpful with the task. Additionally, the girl I crawled after into the dark tunnel last night began crying while we were hoisting the dummy, and she was pulled aside quickly. Sheena also lagged far behind us and the other leader was gently reminded to take care of his team and leave no man behind, so he went to encourage her.
The humidity in the forest was stifling, so when we emerged I noticed it was very hot and bright now. Back at camp, we immediately changed out into our wet attire again and were told to swim out into the sea for about 200m without life jackets. I protested, not being a strong swimmer, but they said we should just give it a go and yelled us into the water. I figured I'd ignore the instructors supervising us in their kayaks and decided to do a backstroke the entire way (the slowest ever because I was the last one to reach the buoy and return). I was going to be as chill as possible in this and take the opportunity to relax while I could, since I sucked at swimming anyway and no amount of frantic splashing would propel me faster. I was enjoying myself until I came back to the beach and it was shallow enough to put my feet down to waddle through. I stood up and slipped slightly on the smooth surface of a rock, going down on my hands and knees into the water, which came up to my biceps. The waves were lapping softly and the beach was inviting, but my clothes were soaked, making me even heavier than I expected. And coming out of the water, I was no longer buoyant and it felt like my limbs had lost all strength and could not carry my own weight anymore. I was too heavy and had no energy to even stand. In a split second, I don't know why fear swept over me and I burst out crying uncontrollably. Maybe I was afraid I might faint, or just straight up die here. Like this was how I was going to go, overworking myself to death. The seawater masked my tears and crying, and an instructor on a rocky outcrop 20m above the beach hastened me to get out as I was the slowest. I willed myself to get up again at his behest, but I could only put 1 hand in front of the other. I remained there another 10 seconds, head hung and dripping and crying and wavering, and looked up at him again for assistance. This time he was on the walkie - the kayakers must have seen me struggling - and promptly came down to grab my hand and pull me up. I tried to control my sobbing when he asked what happened. I gasped "Swimming sucks!" in between sobs.
I calmed myself enough to hose down and change out of my clothes (not that the dry attire was any less wet from sweat) and not look like I was freaking out in front of the rest of the participants. Again, the sequence of events may be muddled, but I think at this point we were allowed to eat our snacks by the sea, though in silence as usual. I realised that some of them others had sustained visible cuts and bruises on their body, and though they had been plastered or bandaged, nothing was not sticking but falling off by now. The journalist had lots of red scratches up his calf from the night hike as he had fallen in the forest, and others said they were blistering or getting abrasions from their underwear etc. I checked my own body and saw a large blue-yellow bruise from my armpit to my bicep, which was sore from carrying the jerry can all over. Otherwise there were no wounds and I was aching badly. We sat in grim silence and contemplated our fate.
After the break, we took large empty plastic drums, 12m wooden poles and rope out of a storage and set about building a raft. We were toasting in the sun for about 2 hours for this activity. The team was not able to focus even when I explained how to tie secure square lashings, so I did all the lashings on four corners and they tied the drums down to the raft. Probably because it took so much time moving the materials out, we didn't get to test it and had to dismantle everything and store them back exactly. Another bummer.
It was nearing evening and this was the final activity where which most would drop out: the 2.4km run. Most of the guys and even the 50-year old geography teacher were leading the run, but with the lack of calories and a sudden high-intensity jogging exercise, we could only endeavour our legs not to buckle. Those leading spoke words of encouragement to the rest whenever they passed a tight corner away from the instructors, because it was supposed to be a non-interactive and solemn occasion. The problem was the abrasions in the crotch, blisters on the feet and soreness in the legs became so apparent now that walking after that run became painful to do.
It Ends Now
As we were told to eat our dinner of Maggie noodles and sausage, cooked in our individual mess tins, the salt made me hungrier. And as I sat there feeling a bit more miserable about my aching body, I had not noticed that half of the runners were gone by now (we were sitting 1m away from each other and there were about ten of us). I was only able to hone in on my pain and figured I would have to call it quits because my legs were sore and blistering all over. While washing up the utensils, I told Sheena I may have to drop out and asked if she would still be carrying on. She wasn't ready to drop out, but said No. 5 was crying over her meal as she sat beside her. Another guy No. 15 or something heard us and quipped loudly that he guessed one of the participants was going to drop out too. I replied there was nothing wrong with that. We were told to fall in and march on the spot, a ploy I believe to force the few of us who couldn't walk to drop out. Sheena couldn't even lift her legs for the "hentak kaki", and was called out for it. Though she was visibly struggling to breathe now, I encouraged her to just lift her knees high.
They informed us the next segment was kayaking and then tonight the participants would be taught to pitch a tent so they could sleep well that night. I saw my chance when we broke off to change into wet attire again. I was going to abandon Sheena this time, so I hobbled over to the nearest instructor and said I wanted to fall out. The designated counsellor sat me down on the path a distance away and asked why I wanted to quit. I was angry he asked that and started to sob, more because I wanted to hit him and was trying not to. I didn't want to give up, I was forced to. By now I just hated everything about the company I had trained so hard for and realised my hopes and expectations were absolutely crushed by this nonsense. I didn't sign up for this, so essentially I hadn't joined and therefore was not quitting anything. I still had to give him an answer so I simply stated I was bruised and blistered and could not walk properly, hence I could not carry on the "interview". He tried persuading me a little more with the little EQ he could muster, that the night would be easy-going for us from now. I said no, I would hinder the rest of the group.
They let me use the toilet and said they'd see me for an "exit interview" in a few minutes. When I entered the toilet, I broke down again and couldn't stop myself for a good 10 minutes, so I holed myself up in a cubicle and thankfully the floor blow-dryer was so loud it muffled my crying. I tried to wash my face and cool down, but I was shaking either from lack of strength or from stifling my sobs. They called me in to the medic room for a general check; though my eyes were still red, I just went ahead. A supposed nurse looked me over and took my BP and repeated the same questions the instructor asked; I repeated my answer back. She was in a light-hearted mood, I was not. I figured she was the one who made the weak attempts at bandaging the wounds sustained by participants, using so much gauze and little tape that absorbed water and sweat and fell away from the skin instead of an elastic tubular bandage that wraps the whole appendage. And so I sought no solace from her.
I waited on a bench outside and who do I find but Sheena already sitting there, having seen the medic also, together with No. 15-or-something. I became snarky with both of them but approved their decision to fall out. We looked out at the remaining 7 participants grabbing their kayaks and paddles, heading towards the launch bay, silhouetting in the red of the setting sun. It was beautiful and serene for a moment. Then we were rallied by a couple of instructors ushering us to collect our personal bags at the bag storage unit and return the water bottles. As we grabbed our things, I understood now how things got mouldy and gross... no one had energy or care enough to clean out, rinse or wipe down what we used. I think an instructor was doing that but it didn't seem thorough. Still it was not as pertinent as getting off the island.
We made our way to the office near the jetty, where the manager who briefed us in the recruitment exercise spoke to each of us before we departed. He asked the same questions, adding that he'd like to have me on board with them, if I so choose. I gave him my RBF and said no (I'm usually cheerful when I talk with strangers, but at this Nazi camp, everyone was my enemy). I plainly told him I would not be able to work with any of these people, though he insisted they were good people (which was not what I'd seen in the 24 hours I was with them... despite multiple opportunities, all evidence pointed to the contrary). He said I should give them a chance, and because he was so nice and sincere about it, I didn't feel any anger well up, though I'm sure he was part of the problem with the way the camp was run. I therefore withdrew my application and he had nothing further. I recollect another participant who shared that his brother had also done this interview and rejected them, and that he was also going to do the same at the end, since he'd made up his mind halfway through not to be part of them. He said it would be sweet revenge. I don't think there was anything sweet about all this.
I sat with Sheena and No. 15-or-something waiting for the boat, feeding mosquitoes. An instructor got on the boat with us to go to mainland too, and I just gave him a deadpan stare the entire way. Sheena was quieter now cos she was flat. I was still alert and in panic mode, though subtly hiding it. She was alright when we got in a taxi, which we stank up, and feedback that the camp was ok and would have liked to give it another shot. She really wanted this, and was so chill about it, chiding herself for her poor stamina. I looked at her eyes wide and wanted to slap her. I told her it was harrowing and her people-tolerance level was out of this world, even with people who'd been bullying her for 24 hours non-stop. It took her a year after this to realise the work culture was not all that good there, and had decided not to pursue it, thankfully.
Recovery
When I dragged my feet to my home, I was so tired and it hurt to move anything, I thought my body would break. I had never felt so beaten up physically, like I had survived a labour camp and barely made it out alive. My guard dropped the moment I opened the front door and the tears flowed freely... I had no will left to stop it. I could barely get myself through the doors. I think my parents didn't know what to do either. I shuffled slowly to my room to get my clothes and shuffled painfully to the shower. I felt over my whole body and let the soap rinse the blisters and abrasions. Every fibre inside hurt, but not as much as my psyche and fear for my wellbeing. I had also visibly shrunken down and lost a lot of muscle mass within the 24 hours, but I wasn't hungry... I'd eat something but I couldn't chew if I was ugly crying constantly anyway. I eased myself into bed gingerly and had a blissfully deep sleep. I would spend the whole next day Sunday eating junk food to recover the calories lost, sauntering around the house like a broken creature, and weeping as I went to release my pent-up frustration and trauma.
I had some colleagues at work who held weekly prayer meetings in office, so I could let them know to pray for my healing emotionally and psychologically. I'm supposedly the most stoic and business-like among the office ladies, so for them to hear that I ended up crying the whole weekend instead of enjoying OBS was concerning (it was all I had talked about and looked forward to for a month). I'm glad for the family who will always be there to be my outlet and uphold me in love.
Looking back, obviously this kind of intense physical and mental training is only for the select few who have steeled themselves to overcome the odds (and also for sociopaths who have a dysfunctional emotional spectrum). I was upset with myself that I had not prayed as much as I would have liked. There was no time to think anything positive or pray a blessing on anyone; I only shot a few prayer arrows that Sheena would not be discouraged by this. I guess my prayers were answered well.
I wouldn't say OBS was a failure either, because the interview set out to do what it intended: whittle down the candidates to the cream of the crop. Even though all the activities were made to demoralise, the aim was to find those who persevered through the difficulties and prospered. The innate motivation and internal locus of control had to be so dominant that the toughest things didn't bring them down. Instead, they could lift themselves and others up and still perform at their utmost. Though I'm pretty sure a personality test and StrengthsFinder report can inform the hirers of their potential ideal candidates instead of this ill-gotten insanity.
My only take is if you can overcome and emerge victorious over difficulties such as these, when you next face immense challenges, you know you can keep your head and excel when it is called for. Maybe like No. 24, you can bravely face the demons head on, and this time defeat them. Or like Richard Wurmbrand, who survived 8.5 years in Communist prison for preaching the gospel, and prayed the craziest thing: that he could do it all again for God. And he did by going back to prison for another 5-6 years, accepting torture as part of the package. Nothing dampened his spirit as he preached to inmates and saved their souls all the more through 3 years of solitary confinement, to retain his sanity. Failure and strife are the worst teachers, but they can bring out the best in us when we allow them.
PS. I'm sure others had a more positive experience with OBS, though as with the many factors contributing to the unknowns of adventuring outdoors, there are more opportunities for things to go wrong. How did things going wrong for you helped build your faith?
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