Small world

In the summer of 2002, I finally took a break from 18-hour days reporting on the aftermath of 9/11 and jetted to Salt Lake City. From there, it was a few hours in a minivan to the next day finding myself carrying a 60-pound backpack, exhausted, and barely able to walk.

It was the first day of a National Outdoor Leadership School rock climbing program in Wyoming’s Wind River mountains, and it was utterly transformative. At 29, I was the oldest in the group aside from two of the three instructors. But I quickly learned that while I was wildly out of shape—apparently, a few walks around Central Park hadn’t adequately prepared me—I was stronger and more capable than I realized, and I relished being immersed in a team of strangers discovering the joy of camaraderie and collective capability.

When we hiked out to return to NOLS’ headquarters three weeks later, I learned a few more things. I stunk like absolute polecat, but no one noticed or cared since none of us had been able to bathe. After…