Ode to FOP 20: Onwards We Go!

I began my first year at Harvard in peak physical condition: a bruised hip, aching legs, ten wasp stings, and—possibly—an incubating giardia infection (but thankfully not). I had just survived my first wilderness backpacking trip.

I attended Harvard’s First-Year Outdoor Program the week before setting foot in any college classroom. FOP is one of Harvard’s oldest, most popular, and largest pre-orientation programs. For five days, around 300 incoming freshmen strap on their backpacks, drive hundreds of miles off campus, and explore New England’s natural beauty. FOP introduces Harvard—the people, the scenery, the sentiments.

I do not consider myself outdoors-inclined, or even athletically inclined for that matter. Growing up, my outdoor experiences had been limited to California tide pools, hikes on well-serviced trails, and an occasional part-drive, part-hike to catch a sunset. My past adventures were never far from the heart of a city, never far from a telephone, a restroom, or, frequently, a restaurant to end the trip. Except for a sixth-grade week-long camping trip, I had yet to stay overnight in the middle of the woods—much less live out of a backpack for five days.

Despite my flagrant inexperience, I was determined that FOP was the one and only pre-orientation program for me.

After all, what could be more suitable for a new year and a new school than to try something crazy? Acceptance to FOP, though, was purely a lottery: applicants had an equal chance. In an attempt to game the system, I confidently rated my athleticism a generous seven out of ten, hoping to open myself up to all the trip options. A couple of weeks later, I was thrilled to learn I was placed on a medium-intensity backpacking FOP trip. The reality of this wilderness foray, however, only set in a week before the initiation date. With a long list in hand, I headed to a nearby REI store and walked out with a couple hundred dollars less in my pocket.

My FOP group (FOP 20!) consisted of three leaders and seven pre-frosh. Our trip was a hike on the Presidential Range along the Appalachian Trail, a path that contains some of the highest peaks of the White Mountains. Each day, we advanced a handful of miles through the mountains, then settled in an open clearing. Per FOP tradition, we left our phones and watches at home, relying solely on the break of dawn to start our day and the holler of a FOP leader to end it. We scrambled through rocks, balanced on logs, and passed stories, jokes, and riddles one by one down our hiking line. We broke bread—namely, peanut-butter-and-jelly-smothered pita—at the top of waterfalls, posed together on bridges, and gazed wistfully off a tall peak. At rest stops, we inhaled handfuls of GORP (a snack mix of pretzels, chocolate, Goldfish, and nuts) and rationed our fresh oranges and pears. We even bumped into Yale’s (inferior) equivalent of FOP. Through these milestones, we also endured swollen ankles, burst blisters, and legs scratched up by low foliage.

I felt so exhausted at the end of each day that I couldn’t imagine climbing any more the next day. Yet, I always seemed to make it through—climbing slowly, yes, but climbing upward. Over those five days, my FOP trip felt so difficult, so impossible to finish. Despite the occasional stumbles and never-ending days, FOP was a lesson in resilience, in never underestimating oneself, particularly when accompanied by nine other supporters who literally have your back(pack).

There’s no doubt my three amazing FOP leaders are extraordinary people. One was an army veteran, entertaining us with stories of his deployment, strict officers, and disgusting ready-to-eat rations. Another was always excited to carry anything we struggled to fit in our bags, or rather, anything we didn’t feel like hefting on our shoulders. And the third always knew the way, corralling us to get back up despite our pleas for longer water breaks and more rest stops.

Beyond their outdoor expertise, I will forever remember how comforted and safe I felt following their lead. I recall how one night—the only day we arrived at camp early—we gathered around, wrote down a fear, anxiety, or excitement about Harvard on a paper slip, and received answers from our FOP leaders: Find your people. Focus on your classes. Try crazy new things.

And my fellow FOPpers? Well, as I write this, I have just reunited with my full FOP group, and am in the midst of planning a surprise birthday for one of them—just as we did last year. It has been a full 365 days since we made that fateful journey to the mountains. Since then, we have remained close—uniquely so among FOP groups—and some even live next door to each other. We come from different backgrounds, different interests, different places. Just looking at how we arrived here: while one FOPper flies nearly twenty hours to Harvard, another drives just over twenty minutes. FOP not only broke the ice between us but also tied us together in intricate ways. For the five days of our trip, we unconsciously reached out an arm to steady each other whenever we stumbled, offered an extra bite of our snacks, and shared our backstories. It was no harder to reach out to each other on campus, to offer open arms as we each transitioned to our new home.

It would be an understatement to say that my first year was transformed by this pre-orientation program. The feeling that one is displaced from familiarity, from the comforts of home, childhood, and community is inherent to college. Frankly, I was unsure whether anyone would understand me as well as my high school friends, or that I could open up so quickly to someone else. But FOP—gathering people under the same roof, or tarp, for five days—showed me that intimacy is possible with vulnerability, often enhanced by a bit of shared sweat and a few tears.

Now a sophomore at Harvard, I am still surprised by the jolting experience of moving away from the rhythm of summer, away from my lovely hometown. Texting my FOP 20 group—which is still active with “anyone grabbing dinner soon?”—I know that I can always return to the comfort of these people when a bout of the lonelies hits.

It’s beautiful to see my FOP group moving forward. My leaders are in their final year, while my fellow FOPpers have just settled into their Houses, both along the river and in the Quad. At Harvard, we have yet to summit or to reach our end. But as we watch our FOP leaders guide us—always a couple of steps ahead—we can’t help but treasure the journey: the ups, downs, stumbles, stings, conversations, and slow but steady trek toward our destination.

Cloris Shi (clorisshi@college.harvard.edu) is the Associate Forum Editor of the “Harvard Independent.”