All Together, Now

All Together, Now

"Hail! Hail! The gang's all here!"

So sang the twelve, twenty-eight year-old celebrants on the Seattle beach. Years ago, as high school Seniors, they were known as The Dirty Dozen. Like other groups, they vowed ever to keep in touch and meet at every anniversary. And they did: through e-mail, snail mail, phone calls, visits, exchanging birthday and Christmas cards, and now their Tenth.

At Franklin High they earned a reputation as daredevils: they climbed Mt. Rainier, rented swimming gear and circumnavigated Mercer Island, kayaked Deception Pass in the San Juan Islands, and, dare of dares, roller skated down much of Hurricane Ridge south of Port Angeles.

Now, ten years later, everyone anticipated Something Big.

"Stand by, guys," said John Silverton, nicknamed Little John because he was six-foot seven. "The roll call will be by our nicknames: Hot Hanna."

"Thrifty Teresa."

"Smooth Sarah."

"I'm always here."

"Tall Terence."

"You know it."

"Shapely Louise."

"Dirty Hairy."

"Miss Congeniality Amanda."

"How nice of you to call my name."

"Gross Cal."

"Whatever."

"Barnacle Barney."

"At your service."

"Bashful Bette."

Schwartzenagger Arnold."

"All right, the old gang really is here. We made it: ten years and still hanging tough!"

The morning after the all-nighter on the beach, Little John asked, "Now what?"

"I don't know," said Louise, still very shapely, "but I didn't want it to end at Graduation and I don't want to now. I say that whatever we do, we do it for a whole year."

"Wild!" yelled Cal. "I'm game."

So echoed the entire crew, and that was the birth of all twelve taking year-long leaves of absence simultaneously.

"I say we take a trip," said Teresa.Dosomething. But what?"

"All right," said Sarah, "I got it. We go from Seattle to San Diego by boat."

"Big deal," said Arnold. "Everyone does that."

"I don't mean a cruise where we play shuffleboard and watch the tourists. I mean each in a separate vessel."

"Like I have that kind of loose change."

"Same here. But Barney told me something last night that piqued my curiosity. Remind them where you work, Barnacle."

"Albatross Aircraft."

"So we all charter our own plane and in a few hours meet in Dego? I thought this was going to be a water thing, and for a whole year."

"Albatros makes more than planes, Hanna. We make canoes, too."

"Canoes? That'swild. We get in our own canoe andpaddlefrom Seattle to San Diego. Now that's worthy of a ten-year anniversary celebration for the Dirty Dozen any day!"

"And you can be sure we'll be the only class ever to have done it," said Bashful Bette."But let's not make it a race. I mean, how about one year from the day we leave, we all meet at the Naval Base, no one having traveled a foot on land. Then we conclude this party"

"Bette, you're all right," said Terence. "So what's the deal, Barney. Can get twelve canoes?"

"It'll be a breeze: Albatross loves to promote."

The group looked at one another cementing their bonds. Naturally they didn't know all that would happen in the next three hundred sixty-five days, but they sensed that they were in store for a great time. Excitement

One week later, twelve, thirteen-foot Albatross, lightweight, aluminum canoes arrived complete with life jackets and double-bladed paddles. But when it came down to wade or get out of the water, Hanna got cold feet.

"We're going to go the length of the West Coast in metal banana peels?" After she caught herself, she added, "Frankly I think this is the craziest, wildest, most moronic thing I've ever wanted to do in my entire life!"

"Yeah for Hanna! We didn't nickname you Hot for nothing!"

And so the flotilla headed west across Puget Sound, through the San Juan Straits that many think is narrow but when you're in a thirteen-foot canoe is very wide. Then they faced ocean swells, currents, winds, and thick mists, and a very long coast line.

"This is what I get for pushing a pencil for ten years," said Miss Congeniality. "Oh, my broken nails. I'll never be the same after this!"

No one wanted to get mathematical, but just by measuring with a ruler they estimated the distance to be at least two thousand nautical miles from beginning to end. They would have to pace themselves. No one wanted to arrive at the destination too soon, each wanted to take the full year. By noon of the first day no one worried about any of that. They echoed Amanda's thought: if we get there at all. They found it took seamanship, courage, and considerable foolhardiness to tackle the Pacific Ocean in a thirteen-foot canoe.

Each kept his own log. Evenings, when they didn't collapse in their tents immediately after supper, they shared experiences. Sometimes several voyagers lashed together for moral support. Occasionally two girls got in one canoe and towed the second. But for the most part, each participant adhered to the saying by paddling his own canoe.

Many times individuals were tempted to hop on a train, plane, bus, motorcycle -- any land vehicle -- and say, "See you in San Diego." Some were even invited by admiring muscle-beachers. But no one violated his commitment; everyone went the full distance by water.

Why did it take twelve months to go only two thousand miles? Anyone who's been on the ocean knows that it's not possible to travel every day. Also, paddling can exhaust even the most fit.More than once the entire group bivouacked on a remote beach for as long as a week.

Exactly one year after that decisive beach party in Seattle, twelve paint-faded, thirteen-foot canoes slowly gathered off the shore of San Diego, California. A few had rigged home-made sails -- Teresa and

Bette who had tired of paddling months before -- and they lowered them as cameramen crowded the beach. The twelve had agreed that each canoe would land at exactly the same moment. Since Bette had suggestedthis is not a race, the twelve canoes gathered together like a flock of resting geese. Buzzing, laughing, giggling, all happy and full-hearted. Only when they were bow to bow did they approach the shore. Like a twelve-sectioned caterpillar, the flotilla eased forward. Arnold and Cal deliberately capsized for effect, but they caught themselves and waded ashore in step.

Such hugging was unheard of even in California. It was sincere, deep-felt, real, the kind without any falseness or pretension. For the sojourners had reached their goal: not only to hit the beach simultaneously but to remain a whole in spirit.

"Hail!" came their call. Not raucous or boisterous, but quiet and euphemistic. Because of the tender greeting, the onlookers kept their distance, for the moment. The entire nation had heard about the unique adventure: it was in the international headlines and had been for the previous six months. Complete biographies had been circulated, bets made against everyone completing the trip. News helicopters and reporter-filled launches had circled the entire last week. Bashful Bette was forced to hide under her umbrella from the ever-flashing camera lights. Friends of the twelve, those with clout, had asked that the landing party be low key and personal. But you can hold off the media only so long, so once the hugging was over they stamped like the four horses of the Apocalypse.

Within the week all the stories surfaced. The ones the participants released, that is. Twelve friends, a full year, two thousand miles in canoes, all that camping, there were so many unpublishable experiences! No one would know the depression, anxiety, fear, exhaustion, and terror of the sea any more than they could fully grasp the euphoria of spending a year full of excitement together. For the brave dozen had, collectively, seen and felt it all: whales, sharks, dolphins, squids, snakes, dive-bombing birds, mercenaries, oil tankers that looked like water-borne sky scrapers, hurricanes, becalming, galloping surfs, tortuous sun, flashing rains, capsizing, broken paddles, the endless emptiness of the ocean, the unknown in the bottomless sea, running out of food and water and strength and hope. They had lived through twelve Kon-Tiki's, twelve Mayflowers, twelve Magellans, twelve Captain Cooks, twelve of everything, but each one separately, each facing himself individually

during those three hundred sixty-five days. And, as one might expect, each had changed in his own way.

"Okay, gang, roll call. Hot Hanna."

"Here, though somewhat cooler than when I embarked."

"Thrifty Teresa."

"Here, and I thank Barney for the free canoes from Albatross."

"Smooth Sarah."

"I'm here, though I went through some rough spots."

"Tall Terence."

"Yes, though I feel a bit shorter from that humbling experience."

"Shapely Louise."

"Even more so, because paddling sure beats a workout at a gym!"

"Dirty Hairy."

"Here Sir, though not so dirty after all that ocean spray."

"Miss Congeniality Amanda."

"How nice of you to call my name, but aren't we all congenial now?"

"Gross Cal."

"Whatever, though I must admit, the trip did smooth things out a bit."

"Barnacle Barney."

"At your service, though my hands aren't quite healed yet."

"Bashful Bette."

"Here, John, and thank you for helping bring me out of my shell."

Schwartzenagger Arnold."

"Ya, and I think you're all one tough bunch."

"And me, I'm Little John, though I feel even littler after seeing how big all of you are inside. But hey, we made it, gang. Eleven years to the day after high school graduation, one year after our take-off from Seattle, and we're still hanging tough."

"And no class will ever do better, either,"said Bette.