Dear Diary,

I always hoped this day would come! The day I could truly help someone in need!

Normally I am stuck sitting in a stuffed backpack, up against a pile of stinky socks, all day and night, saving my energy and waiting for my chance to shine. I remind myself on the longest, dreariest days that I am there to keep people secure, for emergencies, and to check in with base about logistical needs. This is my mantra: “I am important, I am important, I am important.”

It was a day like any other–I was sleeping, saving my energy, while everyone was hiking the majestic crags of the High Sierras. For hours and hours, I had to wait as everyone pushed on, passing sparkling alpine lakes and admitting that this long day was nothing compared to their first few miles on course, when every move was new and their packs made their bodies creak.
We had a tiring 8 miles to cover and one member of the crew was already exhausted, his motivation to go on shrinking by the minute. The other students tried to distract him with songs and games but without luck. He wanted to go home. When he started quietly crying at dinner, one of the instructors took him aside to check in with him. She listened as he related how tired he was, how much he missed home and how he wasn’t sure he could keep pushing to complete the course. She reassured him that he had it in him to succeed and that the whole crew was there to support him. While I thought the instructor’s efforts were inspiring, the forlorn student shook his head and whispered that he just wanted to talk to his mom.*

That’s where I came in, Diary, brightly glowing; a beacon in the dark! I sprung to life, standing at attention! They dialed my lit buttons, and spoke to the right people at the Midpines base, more than 70 miles away, to reach the boy’s mother. As he clutched me with both hands, cheeks wet from tears, I could feel the love and support his mother sent him in the form of words. She knew that he could do it–he could finish what he started, no matter how hard it was. She was so proud of him.

Saying good night, I could feel his grip on me loosen, and a smile had replaced his tears. His crew mates came to envelop him in a group hug, with me, right in the middle of the support he had all along. He was going to stay and finish the course! We all slept well that night, exhausted, and looking forward to the next day’s adventures.

Thank you Iridium Communications for donating five Iridium Extreme Satellite Phones and one year of service per phone to Outward Bound California. Your product’s ability to keep students and instructors connected and safe on course is an invaluable gift to our organization. For more information on Iridium Communications or how your company can make an impact on the lives of Outward Bound California students, contact Emma Rapp, Marketing and Outreach Manager, at [email protected] Photo credits to Shane Stump (mountain shot) and Rikki Dunn (Satellite Phone shot).

*Disclaimer: This story is a fictionalized version of an instance that could happen while on course. Calls home are very rare and it is left to the professional discretion of the instructors whether a call is appropriate. Homesickness is dealt with in a variety of ways without technology. Please remember that no news is good news in regards to a student on course.