The Mountains Called… and I Didn’t Have Service to Answer

This summer, we were invited to spend a few nights with friends at their cabin tucked deep in the mountains, completely off-grid. No running water, no bathroom—just an outdoor shower. Heat came from a wood-burning fireplace, and solar panels powered the lights. To some, that might sound like a nightmare, but to us, it was pure heaven.

With no light pollution and no background noise beyond voices in earnest conversation, life felt beautifully simple. We walked, talked, cooked meals together, played games, and slept soundly in the cool mountain air. (There was a real mattress, and the cabin had a solid roof and walls—which made it feel luxurious!)

Four days without internet or cell service (though we did keep a satellite phone on hand for emergencies—we weren’t completely reckless!) only made the time feel more precious. I already spend very little time on social media, so the transition wasn’t difficult—even not responding to WhatsApp, texts, and emails, was freeing and to have the perfect excuse not to respond right away.

By the time we returned to “real life,” my heart felt lighter and my body more rested—helped, no doubt, by a few long naps. The real challenge, of course, is holding onto that calm once daily demands start pulling us back in.

One of the most unforgettable parts of the trip was the night sky. I always love the wide-open skies, but seeing them without pollution was breathtaking. So. Many. Stars. I can barely spell astrology, let alone know what it all means but I can spot the Big and Little Dippers. Beyond that I’m lost—I had to look up the rest when we got home.

Using night mode on a phone camera, we even captured the Milky Way—the glowing heart of our galaxy. It was my first time seeing it so clearly, and it was absolutely awe-inspiring.

We learned that Ursa Major, or the “Big Bear,” is the third-largest constellation, home to the Dippers, while Ursa Minor—the “Little Bear”—holds Polaris, the North Star. Not only is Polaris the brightest star in our galaxy, it has been used to tell direction and time, guiding people for thousands of years! Next time, I’m bringing my own camera and tripod to see what other constellations I can capture.

It’s humbling to think about all the history these stars have witnessed: countless days and nights, generations of people, the destruction and renewal of forests, lands, and homes. Under that vastness, I feel small—but never insignificant. I believe our roles here on this earth at this time, in this place, is not by accident. 

The question is: what will I do with mine? And what will you do with yours?