We were a few dozen healthy 20-something women, all off on a grueling, month-long survival course.

This wasn’t the military. We were training to work for a hands-on Third World relief agency, where we would face all sorts of struggles and rough circumstances. The training, which consisted of lots of wilderness exercises, was meant to winnow out the women who weren’t serious enough for the commitment. Better they find out ahead of time that they didn’t have the stuff than fail overseas.

Away in the mountains, in a crude camp where we had to pump our own water, cook over wood fires and endure hours of drills, the little cabins where we slept were like oases. There were ten of us in each of the small, framed structures. We would stagger in at dusk, strip and collapse onto our cots.

I had... Read More