Wilderness Therapy

Wendy Greenberg hugged the rock face high in the Colorado Rockies and began to relive the lowest point of her life. Five months earlier, her neck had been broken in a savage rape and beating. After weeks in a hospital, she was physically well, but the emotional wounds remained raw. As she clung to the mountainside, she realized that the Colorado Outward Bound leader on the other end of her rope resembled the man who had raped her in his pickup truck. "I had to trust this guy with my life.

A 16-year-old Santa Rosa boy was killed in Oregon when a tree limb fell on his tent during a wilderness expedition near Waldo Lake. The boy, whose name was not released, was one of seven teens on a 21-day trip with Albany, Ore.-based Catherine Freer Wilderness Therapy Expeditions. The group was accompanied by four adult counselors, authorities said. Counselors awoke Wednesday and found the boy dead inside his tent.

Inspired by earlier programs such as Outward Bound, the wilderness therapy industry in the western United States grew largely out of academic experiments at Brigham Young University, in Provo, Utah, in the late 1960s. A young Idahoan, Larry Dean Olsen, was giving a course in wilderness living. When he took groups of troubled students into the desert to teach them survival skills, he noticed sharp improvements in their behavior and academic performance.

Eleven teens enrolled in a "wilderness therapy" program are in protective custody after social workers found them camping in cold, rainy weather with limited food and shelter, state officials said in Helena. The teens were part of a Utah-based program for troubled youths that state officials there shut down last week.

Eleven teens enrolled in a "wilderness therapy" program are in protective custody after social workers found them camping in cold, rainy weather with limited food and shelter, state officials said in Helena. The teens were part of a Utah-based program for troubled youths that state officials there shut down last week.

A 16-year-old Santa Rosa boy was killed in Oregon when a tree limb fell on his tent during a wilderness expedition near Waldo Lake. The boy, whose name was not released, was one of seven teens on a 21-day trip with Albany, Ore.-based Catherine Freer Wilderness Therapy Expeditions. The group was accompanied by four adult counselors, authorities said. Counselors awoke Wednesday and found the boy dead inside his tent.

The last two teenagers who allegedly assaulted their leaders and ran away from a wilderness therapy camp were captured after one of them flagged down a freight train about 30 miles northwest of Cedar City, Utah, authorities said. The boys, who were at large in a rugged area for four nights, were in reasonably good condition, officials said. The names of the teens, part of a group of eight boys who authorities said overpowered their counselors at the camp, were withheld.

On the day he died, Nicholaus Contreraz was awakened at 6:30 a.m. He had been sleeping on a mattress positioned halfway in the bathroom of Barracks 31. Staff at the Arizona Boys Ranch had placed the 16-year-old Sacramento youth on Yellow Shirt status for, among other reasons, persistently defecating and urinating on himself. They wanted him to be near the toilet.

Two Dayton-area therapists have turned to Mother Nature in search of an action-oriented strategy to build confidence and self-esteem in troubled teen-agers. Taking teen-agers on a long hike is part of the "wilderness therapy" often used by Dene Berman and his wife, Jenny Davis-Berman, who have a private practice called Lifespan Counseling Associates in suburban Beavercreek. "Our program started off based on our own personal experience," Berman said.

As the mother of a 15-year-old son, I cried after reading about Aaron Bacon ("A Death in the Desert," by Joe Morgenstern, Jan. 15). What disturbed me most was the conduct of North Star Expeditions' "counselors." Why no one, including fellow students, risked standing up for Aaron or offered him any shred of help discouraged me greatly. Is that where "tough love" has taken us as a society? Jennifer Danielson Pacific Palisades Carefully supervised outdoor expeditions can appropriately challenge teen-agers.

The last two teenagers who allegedly assaulted their leaders and ran away from a wilderness therapy camp were captured after one of them flagged down a freight train about 30 miles northwest of Cedar City, Utah, authorities said. The boys, who were at large in a rugged area for four nights, were in reasonably good condition, officials said. The names of the teens, part of a group of eight boys who authorities said overpowered their counselors at the camp, were withheld.

How's this for a first taste of the college experience: Darkness is closing in. Mosquitoes are swarming. And bears lurk in the woods. A pair of teenagers manage to sling a rope over a high branch of a lodgepole pine. Others debate how to hang nylon sacks--stuffed with freeze-dried rice and beans, granola and gorp--high enough to be out of reach of the claws and jaws of a 350-pound black bear. How high is high enough? Will a slip knot hold up?

On the day he died, Nicholaus Contreraz was awakened at 6:30 a.m. He had been sleeping on a mattress positioned halfway in the bathroom of Barracks 31. Staff at the Arizona Boys Ranch had placed the 16-year-old Sacramento youth on Yellow Shirt status for, among other reasons, persistently defecating and urinating on himself. They wanted him to be near the toilet.

As the mother of a 15-year-old son, I cried after reading about Aaron Bacon ("A Death in the Desert," by Joe Morgenstern, Jan. 15). What disturbed me most was the conduct of North Star Expeditions' "counselors." Why no one, including fellow students, risked standing up for Aaron or offered him any shred of help discouraged me greatly. Is that where "tough love" has taken us as a society? Jennifer Danielson Pacific Palisades Carefully supervised outdoor expeditions can appropriately challenge teen-agers.

At this time last year, when Aaron Bacon was 16, his young life was in tumult, though it was still a life. A funny, endearing kid for most of his privileged childhood, Aaron had changed, within a matter of months, into a testy, withdrawn stranger. A gifted kid who had loved to write poetry in a lyrical mode, he was ditching school and lying about it. As his grades slipped, his writing lost its literary luster. More and more, his poems read like death-rock lyrics from the backs of old vinyl-album covers.

Inspired by earlier programs such as Outward Bound, the wilderness therapy industry in the western United States grew largely out of academic experiments at Brigham Young University, in Provo, Utah, in the late 1960s. A young Idahoan, Larry Dean Olsen, was giving a course in wilderness living. When he took groups of troubled students into the desert to teach them survival skills, he noticed sharp improvements in their behavior and academic performance.

How's this for a first taste of the college experience: Darkness is closing in. Mosquitoes are swarming. And bears lurk in the woods. A pair of teenagers manage to sling a rope over a high branch of a lodgepole pine. Others debate how to hang nylon sacks--stuffed with freeze-dried rice and beans, granola and gorp--high enough to be out of reach of the claws and jaws of a 350-pound black bear. How high is high enough? Will a slip knot hold up?

Two Dayton-area therapists have turned to Mother Nature in search of an action-oriented strategy to build confidence and self-esteem in troubled teen-agers. Taking teen-agers on a long hike is part of the "wilderness therapy" often used by Dene Berman and his wife, Jenny Davis-Berman, who have a private practice called Lifespan Counseling Associates in suburban Beavercreek. "Our program started off based on our own personal experience," Berman said.