Hacking Outward Bound as an autistic person

Completing a course at Outward Bound as a late diagnosed autistic person was exhilarating, but took some hacking to make it work. 

Outward Bound is a residential outdoor adventure school that uses physical, mental, group, and solitary activities to push students out of our comfort zones. The best part is the location. Anakiwa is a unique setting where mountains stretch like fingers into the dolphin encrusted ocean and every conceivable element, rivers, rockface, bush, and shoreline, coalesce into the picture-perfect stationing. Yet, the trip was not all fantastic. Neurodiversity is not accounted for in the range of adapted courses offered in Aotearoa New Zealand, and there were plenty of challenges outside of those engineered by the school. 

Preparing for the trip to Outward Bound (I did the five-day professional course) caused me a lot of anxiety, primarily because of the enrolment process. For example, I was forced to describe autism as a mental health condition and was not allowed to have my pre-enrolment interview on Zoom to include my support person. Some of my normal strategies were also supposedly prohibited at Outward Bound, for example using white noise earbuds at night. I understood they were hesitating to admit me onto a mainstream course. I had aspired to go on Outward Bound since I was a child, and now, with the realisation of my goal imminent, I was not going to let this adventure pass me by. I had the opportunity to participate due to funding for my autism, but then, ironically, was effectively restricted from going because of my autistic needs. After speaking with Aotearoa Disability Law and getting some advice, it was enough for me to know my rights and get my enrolment progressing again. 

Once committed, I started preparing in every way possible so I could reserve my adaptive stress response for the unknown. I trained at the level of fitness I would need to comfortably complete the physical challenges by running three kilometres in 25 minutes several times a week, reacquainting my legs with full days of tramping and spending time in cold water to familiarise myself with that sensation. Like many highly prepared autistic people, I had an escape plan. I was ready to walk to the adjacent Queen Charlotte Track by myself and stay there until my planned travel home. As in, I was more worried about going on Outward Bound than I was about being in the bush left to my own devices. 

While many people consider Outward Bound to be physically challenging, my main concern was social. Tears streamed down my face as I waited for my course to start. I was terrified about spending the next 99.5 hours with my watchmates (the term at Outward Bound for other students in the same group) who would, as far as I was aware, be neurotypical. Prior experience warned me that we might face difficulties forming connections. My fear was that they would not like me, and I would not like them. The rain and clouds outside felt like an extension of my inner tension and unease. Our course embarked from the small seaside town of Picton with a sailing lesson. 

Our team efforts at pulling ropes and tying knots culminated in our arrival at the remote Te Kainga Bay, which is only accessible via boat. The sheer beauty and otherworldliness of our location distracted me from any negative feelings. That evening, we were asked to sit in a circle and say one thing we were proud of and one thing that was hard for us in our childhoods. I said I was proud of being autistic. It was good to get that information out there and not have to find ways to bring it up in conversation with each person. I feel more at ease socially once I know people know I am autistic. Seeing phosphorescence in the water was a highlight of our first night and I felt like it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I needed to stay up later than anticipated to have this encounter. My scheduling flexibility was rewarded.

Outward Bound has a focus on ensuring everyone does the same thing at the same time under the same conditions as everyone else. This approach contrasts my everyday life in the disabled community, where differences and accommodations are both normal and expected. An example of uniformity at Outward Bound is the rule that everyone sleeps in a shared dorm. I knew I would have problems sleeping in that unpredictable environment. My request to bring a tent and sleep outside was declined, so I sneaked in a single-skin bivvy bag shelter that has no poles and no ties. Technically, it was not a tent. I spent most nights alone under the southern sky, sleeping in my bivvy bag. Each morning, I packed up and returned to my bunk bed, pretending I had slept there.

One of the teaching strategies at Outward Bound is that instructors tell you what (they think) you need to know when (they think) you need to know it, from their neurotypical perspectives. While autistic people often need more time to process what is going to happen, the Outward Bound way appeared to involve keeping activities a secret until ‘go’ time. For example, we unknowingly approached the high ropes course consisting of various obstacles suspended between Kahikatea trees by listening to an instructor clapping and following her with our eyes closed, opening our eyes when we arrived. 

The high ropes were ridiculously high. I resolved to get through them quickly and not look down. There were two ostensibly equal courses. The first one was fractionally lower in my view, but it made no real difference considering how high they both were. I lined up for the first course but was asked to move to the second course. Even though I was unsettled by the change of plans, I decided to try anyway. After climbing the ladder, I froze on the tree in a static embrace. I could not make myself reattach my carabiners from the ladder onto the first element. I descended after some time, knowing I could do the first course because that was my initial plan. Then, I did it! Finishing the high ropes was an excellent effort considering my aversion to hydroslides, theme park rides, gondolas, and all things supra-ground level. This was one example of having a challenge in common with everyone else. 

A highlight of my Outward Bound experience was spending 24 hours alone in the bush, without devices or even a watch. We each took a sleeping bag, ground mat, and tarpaulin, with a meagre ration comprising a biscuit, apple, and handful of peanuts. Everyone was supposed to take a sleeping bag supplied by Outward Bound, but I insisted on taking my own because I knew the texture of it. I did get a bit cold and tried to remedy this by stuffing my sleeping bag into the plastic pack liner, but got soaked with sweat instead, while reflecting on my decision not to take the Outward Bound sleeping bag. The alone night was a milestone for me, being able to do more on my own has been a long-term goal, and this was an undeniable demonstration of my progress. 

The best thing I gained from the trip was learning to love cold water exposure. Everyone has to go in the ocean for at least two minutes every day while on their courses. While I initially conflated the two separate instructions: that we fully submerge, and be in the water for two minutes, concerned that I would not be able to fully submerge for two minutes without drowning, I found this to be a most exhilarating experience. It is something I never would have tried without being made to do it. The key to success is staying in for two minutes, after which time our thermoregulation mechanisms, like changes in blood pressure and skin blood perfusion, become more noticeable and we can relax as our endorphins kick in and a sense of wellbeing takes over. Having to do this every day gave us a chance to habituate to the experience, and I now incorporate cold plunges as a regular and important part of my self-care.

Outward Bound appears to be designed for the average New Zealander to explore themselves while doing exciting activities in a beautiful location. The school was founded on a Neo-Hahnian ethics of character training and reforming delinquents, so things like disability pride fall far outside that scope. While language at Outward Bound has evolved over the decades - they now talk about ‘self-discovery’ and ‘personal growth’ -my experience was that the organisation does not fully consider the layering of planned challenges, like sailing and high ropes, with additional challenges that disabled people may experience. To use my own examples, like the sensory impacts of eating unfamiliar foods in a noisy dining hall with about 100 other people. I enjoyed and benefited from going on Outward Bound, but was responsible for managing my own adaptations, some of which needed to be forced or hidden to achieve. At one day longer than the global average for Outward Bound courses, five days was enough social connection for me, and I was pleased to go home at the end. 

This article is an edited excerpt from Navigating Outward Bound: A first-person exploration of situational exposure through an autistic lens by Nicolina Newcombe and Gretchen Good, originally published in the Journal of Outdoor and Environmental Education. Nicolina received a Consumer Leadership Development Grant from Te Pou to cover her Outward Bound course fees. 

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