Extreme Off-Site

The Put-In

The part of the team-building adventure in which the guide counts heads and asks one very important question: "Is everybody on board?''

Day One, the Red Lion Hotel, Lewiston, Idaho. At 7:30 on the evening of the launch, Carrick, energized and athletic looking, ushers us into a closet-size room off the lobby for the first of our daily briefings. Each leader gets a 28-page booklet that covers session goals and outlines the theory to come. Juxtaposed to the abstract is the reality -- namely, the five O.A.R.S. river guides, a pile of dry bags to house our camping gear, and metal "ammo'' boxes for stuff that we don't want squashed. David Geller, 36, Altrec's chief technology officer, takes one look at the intimate setting and moans: "Is this where we have the group hug?"

Anything touchy-feely raises everyone's guard. But a report on the river mitigates the threat that political correctness will take over. The lower Salmon is running abnormally high, says head guide Chris Quinn. The possibility that a boat will hit some big white water and flip is very, very real.

In an introductory exercise that follows Quinn's update, Carrick asks each of us to tell the team something about ourselves that everyone should know. Encouragingly, nobody holds back. Geller says he doesn't much care for outdoor recreation and isn't sure why they're here, given the hellish workload they've left behind. Raymond Calvert, the finance director, admits he can't swim. "I'm not proud of it, but there you go,'' he says.

Twelve hours later, we're heading into Roller-Coaster Rapids. Our boater's guide describes the Class-II turbulence as a "long string of big, fun waves.'' Quinn suggests that the team swim Roller-Coaster. Calvert looks dumbfounded, but he suddenly leaps overboard with his life jacket on and shoots the rapids with everyone else. As Calvert clambers back on board, the group whoops and raises its paddles in a river-style salute. But Calvert shushes them: "Did you notice that I never let go of the boat?''

Later, Carrick says she's not surprised that Calvert didn't have enough self-confidence to let go. Teams in a hurry confront a catch-22 dilemma: You can't build a team without trust, and you can't build trust without time -- or at least until you're confident that everyone will deliver in the clutch. Of course, none of the Altreckers has been around long enough to know who'll come through and who won't. On the upside, they are being pushed -- on the river and off -- and are apt to find out soon enough.

High Turbulence

The part of the adventure in which the question is raised: "If I'm doomed to work with teammates who don't know what they're doing, when do I save myself?"

Day Two, midmorning at Killer Goat Beach. Good news: Because of yesterday's high, fast water, we traveled 19 miles with just a half-day's work. Today, with eight hours of paddling ahead of us, we might double that time. Carrick, however, tosses up a deliberate speed bump. The guides are under new orders: Each Altrec team member will take longer, more independent turns as paddle captain. Each must read the river, chart a course, and instruct the crew as to when to paddle forward -- and when to hold on.

Carrick's exercise aims to get at the nub of Altrec's decision-making problems. A major issue is Morford, 29, the company's well-liked CEO. He asks for gobs of input and gives every indication of being a consensus builder. But he isn't. He tries to delegate but can't quite fully trust individuals to execute. The result? Confusion, frustration, and frequent delays. The company, like a poorly steered raft, is pinwheeling through a turbulent marketplace, in danger of dumping at any moment.

But now, as they take turns at the helm and attempt to steer these rafts through raging white water, Altreckers will have the chance to prove that they can lead. For the moment, Morford loses the reins: He's just another paddling grunt.

In large part, the exercise goes well. The day's designated leaders are ecstatic to be at the helm. The others get to see, in a larger-than-work situation, whether their teammates really can take charge. Calvert's turn, for example, is fairly typical. He has his good points: He's confident, enthusiastic, and eager to kick the other boat's ass. But he also has some weaknesses: He tends to overwork his crew, steer erratically, and miss the signals that his teammates are occasionally terrified.

But what strikes Carrick as the most telling take-away aren't the miscues. It's that Calvert, like the others, is unaware of how his leadership style affects the rest of the team. On the flip side, team members aren't doing the leaders any favors by withholding gloves-off feedback. Later, at the evening's campfire session (where the day's leaders are reviewed), the make-nice atmosphere prevails. In fact, Calvert's captaincy is regaled. But the stress of holding back is gnawing at people.

That night, Morford lies awake nearly until dawn; his heart is racing for reasons he only vaguely understands. Mostly, he's got this feeling that the team will sink or swim because of one person: him. He's the leader, but he's not letting others lead -- and nobody's calling him on it.

The bottom line, says Carrick: "Everyone thinks they need to build teams. Often, they need to build leaders."