Believe It Or Not, You're Allowed to Dodge Social Media on Your Birthday
Everything will work again if you unplug it for a while. Including YOU.
Something I’ve never understood is when people post a Facebook selfie with a caption like, “So…this is 40.” Insert 30, 50, or 60 if you like, but I’ve always wondered what kind of responses or validation stamps they’re expecting.
Since when does a birthday selfie or any selfie require the approval of the internet? Selfies in general are just weird. We already know what you looked like at 39. Trust me, it doesn’t change the morning you turn 40.
In the true spirit of searching for Wildhood, you know what’s really wild? Going missing on your birthday. Signing off the almighty internet and finding yourself somewhere where the word ‘approval’ doesn’t exist.
On my 50th birthday, I staged a photo shoot all by myself in front of nobody but my dog and a tripod. I was in the middle of the woods in the Canadian Rockies with no internet service, no phone signal, and no notion of who I could share my personal moment with.
The photo shoot ended up producing one of the most delightful pictures I’ve ever taken of myself and to this day, it has never seen the light of social media.
Right here, right now is the first time I’m posting it anywhere. Talk about bathtub goals, right?
Congratulations on being one of the very first humans to witness this old broad marinating in a vat full of Lush bubbles. 😂
I’d seen at least a hundred versions of this photo on Instagram and so, I booked the same cabin specifically for the bathtub. I had already planned my escape to this spot so why not choose the cabin with the best tub?
I didn’t know at the time of booking but the days I had planned to spend there turned out to be the coldest week of 2022. Temperatures hovered in the -25 to -30 range for my entire stay. Elsa was not playing around that week. ❄❄
I guess that’s what you get when you're Canadian and your birthday falls on November 30th.
If any of my old social followers from my former life as a Jamaica destination writer had known where I spent my 50th, surely they’d have thought this journey came straight out of a movie called, “You’re Going the Wrong Way, Lady!”
They may have wondered if I was experiencing a massive identity crisis. After all, I’ve spent at least ten birthdays in the Caribbean and every single one of them was broadcasted online.
Back to the woods…
This cluster of cabins at Baker Creek calls itself a resort. Bougie people might call it a last resort. Out here they actually boast about the fact that there’s no internet or phone service.
That’s their whole point. Disconnecting.
The funny thing is, they charge more than ANY Caribbean resort I’ve ever reviewed…and believe me, I’ve reviewed some doozies.
It’ll cost you upwards of a thousand dollars per night to run away from your life out here. If not for all the online shopping points my mother and I had accumulated during Covid, I could have never paid to stay here. Thankfully, I had enough points to stay for free.
I had no intention of digitally entertaining myself on this trip but monitoring the weather forecast as my travel dates approached, I thought it best to download a few Netflix movies. Streaming on the fly would not be an option, and with mind-numbing temperatures, neither would going outside.
Surprisingly, my dog Dezi and I spent way more time outdoors than I thought we would. We’re Canadian…we should know how to do this.
We executed our frigid outings in short bursts because even though I had rugged winter boots, Dezi didn’t. Sure, she might behave like she’s part wolverine but no domestic dog’s feet can withstand more than about fifteen minutes of knee-deep snow at -30 degrees.
She LOVES winter though. She was born for it. I don’t know what breeds she’s mixed with but I’m certain there are traces of snow leopard in her genes. I got so much joy out of opening our cabin door each morning and watching her unleash her inner mad dog in pristine, white mounds of sugar-coated terrain.
Immediately following her zoomie time was my coffee time.
Can someone please tell me what makes coffee taste richer, bolder, and so much more caffeinated in the wild? The coffee bag in my cabin was labelled Devil’s Head and I can assure you it was all devil, there were no angels in my mug.
What the hell does one do in a place like this?
You might wonder what a person does out here alone, with no internet, no TV, and weather too cold to fully enjoy outdoor activities.
For starters, you revel in the fact that there’s a bathtub big enough to kayak in. And of course, since you came solely for the tub it’s only logical that you brought every smelly bath bomb you own.
Next, you eat like a queen without having to cook because you toted enough fully prepared takeout for four days. There are no butlers and no room service in the wild and I refuse to cook on retreats. Who are we kidding? I refuse to cook in civilization, too.
You might bundle up at night and go outside to watch 8 trillion stars in the darkest sky you’ve ever seen. That’s roughly 7.999 trillion more than you’d see from your balcony in the city. It is absolutely stunning how black the wilderness is at night.
You definitely take advantage of the free firewood and brave a couple of evenings beside an outdoor fire pit. Somehow, -25 doesn’t feel like such a death trap when you’re snuggled up beside a campfire with your dog intently gnawing on sticks beside you.
When you’re out there in Siberia and manage to build a raging fire all by yourself, you feel a genuine sense of triumph. Sort of like being on those reality survival shows in the wilderness, except I didn’t have to kill any rabbits for dinner and I could have hot cocoa next to my indoor fireplace later.
Once my fire was fully ablaze I felt like I owed it to the fire gods to sit out there as long as possible, enjoying the gift nature had given me. So, I popped off my boots, put my stocking feet up on the rim of the pit, and let the flames live out their destiny of keeping a grateful human toasty warm until darkness set in.
I’m not sure what I expected in the way of fellow wild ones at this property in late November. There are 19 cabins and surprisingly, I met a total of zero winter warlords during my stay. Either the rest of the world got the memo about the forecast or nobody else was dumb enough to come play outside with me.
Regardless, I did manage to accomplish early bedtimes and late, lingering mornings. At this time of year, the sun sets around 4:30 and doesn’t rise again until 8:30. I finally understood perfectly why bears hibernate because I was doing it, too.
Each day, I leashed up Dezi several times for walkies through the maze of pathways around the tiny cabin community. At night, I could peep through lit windows of the other cabins.
Some were laid out differently than mine. Some had ladders ascending to their lofts, mine had a log staircase. Some didn’t have lofts at all…just main-floor little bachelor pads, perfectly suited for one person.
I spent a lot of time wondering what it would be like to live out there and wishing communities like this actually existed. Somebody needs to plan and build small, year-round hubs like this, precisely for antisocial people with dogs. We could all be reclusive in winter and come together in summer to plant community gardens. We’d live off the land as much as possible and let our dogs run wild and free.
Nobody would ever get fat because we’d have actual physical work to do. I’d volunteer to be the woodchopper since I’m not a fan of gardening. And I’d be lauded for my community contribution each night when we congregate around the bonfire.
Our bodies would earn and burn the food we eat.
We would only turn on the internet in the evenings (you know, for blogging and newslettering).
And the person with the biggest truck would hit up Costco in the city once a week for the good of the community. We’d need toilet paper.
Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a while…including YOU.
The truth about this little heaven on Earth is that it’s only a 90-minute drive from where I live and yes, I do consider myself fortunate to live so near to the Rockies. It’s sort of magical knowing that I can leave home right now and be there by lunchtime if I want to.
During the pandemic, I adopted my mutt and then made the silent commitment to trade in air travel for road-tripping. So far, Canada has not let me down and I’ve barely even left my province yet. If I can find places like this in my own backyard, imagine what I’ll find when I really leave home on four wheels.
**Considers taking out a mortgage on an RV**
🌲🌲
Here’s a little slideshow I put together of just how perfect and lovely this getaway was. I really hope it displays properly on all screen sizes. I’m not a techno-geek, I’m a writer. 😁
Now I’d like to hear from you beautiful readers. When was the last time you cut your tethers to the internet and just disappeared…WITHOUT wondering what your followers will think?
You don’t need to answer this question. Your wild African quest trumps my forest frolics any day!
Last month, I deactivated my FB account and author page. It was depressing me to look at it, but I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted to full out delete. There are a couple family and friends I kept up with through it. I'd have to get some emails and numbers if I eventually opt to delete. I definitely haven't missed it and was glad to miss out on my birthday there as this year was an emotionally hard one due to me now being the same age my brother was when he died of cancer.
Ah, but we were ridiculously coddled in all of our digs in Kenya — you built your own fires! It was amazing, however, to be away from my laptop for two whole weeks. I thought I'd miss it. Turned out that writing in a journal was perfectly satisfying. BUT -- your birthday sojourn looks absolutely heavenly. As a hearth-hugger myself, the idea of cozying up in a cabin (with a perfect bathtub, a perfect bed, and a perfect dog like Dezi) while snow blankets the world outside -- add coffee and wine, and I'm all about it. Thank you for sharing! I feel like I've been on retreat.