Bound to be a good time

THOMPSON ISLAND - A boatful of kids on a bright, windy day, sails billowing among the verdant Boston Harbor islands - the very picture of a New England summer.

But it's not all fun, and it's certainly not a game when groups of 10 teenagers set sail on 30-foot open boats for two-week sessions, day and night, through all the weather the northern Atlantic can throw at mariners, even new ones.

There was the day two weeks ago, for instance, that fog had descended. Wet and sticky, not enough wind to fill the sails, what to do? Break out the oars, of course, for six hours of rowing to their destination in Gloucester, hauling the oars like galley slaves as the helmsman peers through the fog looking for landfall.

From constant exposure to the weather to various physical deprivations and challenges - not the least of which are powdered milk ("Yuk!" say the kids) and an open-air toilet (a glorified bucket, say the kids) - minimalist ocean cruising has been the centerpiece of the Outward Bound program on Thompson Island for more than 20 years.

Each summer, a mix of kids from the suburbs and inner-city neighborhoods - from as near as Dorchester and far as Los Angeles - land on Thompson Island for high adventure that, love it or hate it, results in unforgettable experiences.

"It was really hard and a little scary," says Alyssa Mahoney, 15, from Hingham. "The whole thing was just hard. I'm a really shy person, and I didn't know how it would be spending time like that with 10 other people I didn't know - and we're all different - for two weeks. I really didn't want to go."

The program begins on land - 200 bucolic acres. In one mid-August session, day one of the program was fairly typical. Two groups of teens are gathered in the deep woods of the island, which, though just a little more than a mile from the shimmering skyline of downtown Boston, might be anywhere in Vermont or Maine.

Asarel Price, a 13-year-old from Dorchester, creeps slowly up a 35-foot telephone pole. Though he is connected by a climbing rope held by several boys, Asarel is clearly scared.

"I want to come down now," he says, his voice quaking.

"No," says an instructor below. "You can do it. Keep going. You only have a few more feet."

Asarel works his legs until his foot finds the next stapled cleat in the pole. As he achieves the new height, the kids and instructors cheer.

"Can I come down now?" he asks again in the tremulous voice. But he is encouraged to keep going until finally Asarel, amid a chorus of cheers, achieves the ultimate goal of standing atop the pole.

The next step is to declare something in life one wants to leave behind, and a positive to be achieved before the climber jumps off the pole to grab a tether ball as his mates lower him to the ground.

"Now Asarel," says Josh, an instructor, once the boy is back on terra firma, "do you know how many times you asked to come down?"

"About three," he says.

"More like six," he is told. "But see, you did it. You just kept going and you got there. How do you feel about that?"

"Good," says Asarel, who vowed to leave his spotty school record, including six suspensions, behind and work at changing his attitude toward teachers and school administrators.

This is exactly the point where the physical challenge and exertion work to focus students on achievement beyond all expectations.

Says program director Bashir Kayou: "One of the beacons we stress is courage, and that means the courage to make positive changes in your life, and to talk about things that are difficult in your life. One thing Outward Bound does is bring together youth from all cultural and economic backgrounds so we can break down some of those barriers that come between people."

Wailing and sailing

Nowhere are such barriers broken down quite as quickly as in an open boat, which begins after the land session. Many of the kids have never sailed and don't quite know what to expect. Others trust such a well-established program as Outward Bound, but still have misgivings as they look down from the wharf at the vulnerable-looking 30-footer rocking in the chop of the busy harbor passage between the island and the South Boston waterfront.

"Those first days were really tough," says Mahoney.

But little by little the sailors begin working out their differences and learn to get along. During a rowing session in a long circumnavigation of Graves Light, Little Brewster, Grape and Bumpkin islands, a symphony breaks out with the rowers each singing different parts, and the helmsman directing the show.

But then the real magic happens. Tired of rowing and eager to get the boats sailing, Bill Dowd, one of two instructors, has an idea. In unison, the 10 student sailors and two instructors stand and break into primal screaming, letting out frustration with the weather and the miserable feeling.

"Within five minutes the fog cleared," says Dowd. "We literally screamed the fog away."

With similar interventions with nature the crew got the sun to shine, and eventually the breeze did fill the sails and the two-masted shallop was off under wind power.

"We only got to sail three days," says Mahoney, who at graduation received special commendation for her ability to get along with everybody on the boat. "But definitely when we got the sails up everybody was in a better mood."

Experience of a lifetime

Max Jason, a 15-year-old from Los Angeles, comes to visit his aunt and uncle in Boston, participates in Outward Bound, and takes in a game featuring his favorite team, the Red Sox.

He is used to kayaking and hiking with his parents, and nothing prepared him for the intensity of the seafaring involved here.

"I never thought we'd be that long in the water," says Jason, who on the boat inspired many a discussion on international relations and politics. "We went six days without stepping on land, and we talked about a lot of that stuff. Once I got on land it was pretty hard to stand up. My legs were really wobbly."

A participant in many sports, Max had an idea what to expect from the Outward Bound course, but was still surprised.

"It got really rough out there, and at one point about half the people were seasick," says Jason. "One night a huge storm went through, and I was woken up at 2 in the morning by the waves and the tarp on our boat just crashing. It was huge."

But whenever things seemed tough, they could get tougher. At one point, each student had to solo, set off alone on an island for 12 hours.

"I got pretty worried," says Jason, who eventually found a companion sailor on another part of Brown Island. "By 11 at night we were worried and didn't know they were coming back to get us. It was raining and my solo spot was crawling with bugs. I just wanted to get out of there. We hunkered down on the beach in the rain."

Once back to Thompson Island for a graduation ceremony and reunion with family, the sailors were not ready to go back to sea, at least not right away. But all agreed their days together in the boats gave them lifetime memories.

"I'm glad I did it," says Mahoney. "I learned a lot of things that other people don't know. And not a lot of people get this kind of experience. And I really got over being shy. That's not a place you can be shy. The first day I didn't talk to anyone, but I really learned a lot about getting along with other people. That's something you'll always need to know."

Last summer, Alyssa's sister Meghan went through the program and remembers after two days on the boat plotting with a friend how they would jump off and swim to the nearest shore. But when it was over?

"She said she loved doing it," says the girls' mother, Leigh. "But that she'd never want to do it again. And I told her, 'You don't have to do it again. You've done it once and gotten through it.' "