Unexpectedly Disconnected

Somewhere in Washington

Last weekend-ish, we went camping in one of those tiny box structures with one giant window for a wall, somewhere in Washington and unbeknownst to us, there was absolutely zero internet service. We had to drive into a small town (if a town you could call it-- there wasn't even a stoplight) to access the Wi-Fi at the general store/fried chicken house/burger food truck/wine shop/DVD rental building. I cannot remember the name of this tiny speck of a town, but in seared into my brain the name of the town is Gladwell. 

Initially, I felt bored and a little "Oh, my God, what are we going to do for three days in the middle of nowhere?" Naively we assumed this place had Wi-fi. I mean, we found out about it through social media! So, we didn't look up things to do in the area because we figured we would sort it out once we got there and settled in. 

We arrived at the campsite a little after 4:30 PM. in which we quickly found there was no wi-fi and our phones couldn't get a signal. We drove into the small little town, got access to Wi-fi to at least get an idea of what was around, then drove back to the campsite and I made dinner. Ate by 6, and because there was literally nothing to do (there was also a burn ban, so we couldn't even make a campfire), we decided to just go to bed (it was just after 8PM). 

I don't know when the last time was that I went to bed THAT early, and I am someone that goes to bed at a fairly decent time every night. I slept thoroughly for 12 whole hours. What bliss! The next morning, I remembered immediately we didn't have internet; therefore our phones were rendered pretty useless. We couldn't even check the weather. I started thinking about my life before the internet. What did I do with my time? I realized fairly quickly, the relief I felt that I couldn't "get connected" and in some odd, weird way I felt untethered and free from the world. I watched the trees sway, I watched a dragonfly nestle on a reed over and over again. Its weight would eventually tip the reed too far over so it would flutter around in a circle, then settle on it again. It was like it was playing See-Saw my itself. I watched chipmunks. I listened to woodpeckers. 

We drove into town and asked what things were around to do and the woman there said, "Nothing much, but about half an hour away there are some ice caves." So, guess where we headed. I am not at all a fan of caves, especially pitch-black ones that feel like you're walking into a freezer. I descended down the wooden rickety-creaky-highly suspect ladder, and pretty much just hovered near it while my husband explored. Again, woefully unprepared, we had neither the right clothing, headlamps, hard hats, or proper footwear to traverse rough rocks with small sheets of ice. There were ZERO warning signs this place was potentially dangerous. I mean, it clearly was, but maybe out rural areas, this wasn't as regulated? I climbed back up to the top and saw a young Gen-Z couple wearing workout clothes (shorts, t-shirt, pastel leggings, crop top) and I told them "If you guys have sweaters or a headlamp, I suggest getting them. It's cold, dark, and very slippery." They were even less prepared than we were.

On the drive back to town, we came across a small a-frame painted in dark charcoal grey with an aesthetically pleasing typeface that read "Post Office Coffee." It lead to a tiny road off of the country road we were already on.

And wow, what a surprise this find was! I cannot even remember the last time I truly felt like I randomly discovered anything that delighted me so much! Usually, I come across something online/social media then go seek it out, but this we came across. 

It once was an inn that started in the 1920s and it had an absolutely breathtaking view of Mt. Scott. It was also a bar, music hall, coffee shop/bakery and what an absolute lovely thing to come across. I don't want to share the name because a part of me wants to keep it to myself. It feels weird to not want to share it, but, also it makes it a bit more special. I can't really describe it, but it made me realize, maybe our world overshares too much and we have unrealistic expectations of places and the experience is tainted in a way. Does that make sense? 

Unfortunately, our trip ended on a slightly bittersweet note. While we were disconnected, an elderly friend of ours sent a message around midnight with just the words "Hospital" and we didn't get the message until the next morning. My husband went into town to try and reach him, but there was no answer and made calls to mutual friends and most of them also got single word messages and no one could get a hold of him. I made a quick breakfast, and we packed up and left several hours earlier than planned. Through several phone calls, we were able to deduce he had been taken to a hospital close to our home after suffering something similar to a stroke. My husband went to the hospital immediately and yesterday evening we visited him together and he was quite emotional and just talked about life, the importance of it, things he still wanted to do. He shared stories from his past, his youth, his mother. He calls us "his Folk" and to our friend if you're Folk, you're family, you're not just a friend. It was a sobering reminder how finite all of our time is here. He'll be released soon, we hope, but the trajectory of his life has forever been changed.

I made up my mind to live a more analog tactile life moving forward. To work on building community and relationships in real life and if it's through social media, it would be purposeful and genuine. If it feels shallow, if it feels performative, if I don't feel convicted, then I'm not doing it. I don't know how that will shake out as a small business owner starting a very new brand. I don't know, but all I can do is try. I don't want to have regrets, I don't want to be wishing "what if I had..." 

I crave real connection with a community that is tangible in this modern age. I don't know what that looks like yet, but I am so grateful I had the unexpected disconnect to remind me what kind of connection I desire in my own life.