Life Lessons From Our Off-Grid Honeymoon in the Woods
$h!ting in the woods for 3 days can really shift your perspective
Last week marked exactly one month being married to my partner of 9 years (yay!). Our wedding was a small and intimate affair with only two dozen people. Despite this, the costs still added up and life has just been too busy, so we opted for what I keep referring to as a “mini honeymoon,” while we wish and hope for a bigger trip next year. My fingers are crossed for Hawaii.
I had been absolutely itching for a quiet getaway amongst the trees, so that’s what we decided to do. That type of experience, and being more surrounded by nature in general, is a big part of why we moved to British Columbia in the first place. And let me tell you, for someone who never used to be an outdoorsy person, I quickly became hooked after settling in to our new province.
After discovering Hipcamp—which to me feels like a crunchy version of AirBnb—we stumbled upon a charming little yurt about a four hour drive away. It was pictured as a unique, off-grid, cozy stay with a king size bed and wood stove inside, a skylight in the roof, and a dry sauna on the property. We were sold. The lack of electricity was a slight inconvenience but we were up for the challenge!
As our mini honeymoon approached, we realized we were not adequately equipped for this type of adventure. “Glamping,” as it was referred to in the listing, is fairly new to us. So we went to MEC (Mountain Equipment Co-Op) and dropped a surprising amount of money, for a trip that revolves around the idea of surviving and thriving with less.
This spot was secluded enough that there was certainly the possibility of a bear encounter, so naturally, we had to buy bear spray and a horn. We also bought a hatchet for chopping wood, a compass just in case we city folk lost our way, and of course, a proper cooler due to the lack of refrigeration. We felt as prepared as we’d ever be.
We were away for almost three weeks for our wedding, which left our cat Sally home alone, other than twice a day visits from her sitter, so we decided to bring her along for some quality time and a change of scenery.
As a side note, I have big dreams of her becoming a full-blown adventure cat, but this trip confirmed once and for all that she is a content homebody, no matter how hard we try. We realized a couple hours into our time at the yurt that we all would have been better off had we left her at home. But on the other hand, we believe she appreciates the comforts of home way more after this experience.
So we loaded up our car with all our gear, Sally and her litter box. We were shocked at how fast the drive was flying by, thinking we were going to arrive ahead of schedule. Our host armed us with directions once we got to the point where we would lose cell service. The rest of the drive turned out to be one long, winding road with rough terrain and parts that scaled the side of the mountain overlooking the lake, a little closer than was comfortable.
This very rocky road—less delicious but just as exciting as the ice cream flavour—was about 24 kilometres (15 miles), and it took around two hours. Poor Sally threw up her breakfast and was very distressed, but overall handled it like a champ. It felt like that road was never ending, but it was also one of the most awe-inducing and memorable drives we’ll probably ever take.
My belief that I’m not afraid of heights wasn’t totally correct, but now I can truly say I’ve lived life on the edge, and survived.
Not pictured: The steep drop into the lake if you lose control of your vehicle.
My husband made the drive in to the yurt, and I drove back out. After we arrived the first day, we realized there would be no “popping into town” for anything we may have forgotten. We would just have to make do.
Sally the non-adventure cat.
After carefully and slowly driving down the steep, bumpy driveway, we finally arrived at the yurt. Sort of. It turned out that we could only park so close to the yurt, and beyond that it was a steep dirt path down that we would have to take by foot. This was the moment we realized we had overpacked, only to be confirmed by the 4+ trips required to get all our stuff into the yurt, with my pounding heart and sore thighs.
Our home for 3 nights, nestled in the woods overlooking the lake.
Our listing mentioned that there was a composting toilet onsite, yet it wasn’t shown in any of the photos. This was slightly unsettling, but I have a friend with an AirBnb bunkie on her property, with a very nice composting toilet in a separate, enclosed structure. I reassured both of us that it would be a similar setup at this glamping yurt.
A day or two before our arrival, we reached out to our host with a few last minute questions, including more details about the toilet situation. We were quick to notice that the other questions were answered and that one was skipped over.
Once there in person we spotted the toilet… which upon closer inspection we realized was a wood box, backed into the bushes, with a toilet seat and lid. Inside was a bucket with some fresh sawdust at the bottom, and a separate bucket with more sawdust. Not being avid campers, the crappy (pun intended) reality of our bathroom situation quickly flashed before us as we imagined what it was going to be like to use this “toilet” for three days.
We were told we could at least pee anywhere in the woods, so naturally I chose a spot as close to the yurt as possible to avoid trekking into bear territory, putting myself in one of the most vulnerable positions possible in the pitch black darkness. I desperately hoped to not need the composting toilet after dark, and luckily, I didn’t.
On the bright side, it turns out that sawdust is really good as masking odours, and doing your morning business with a mountain and lake view is quite magical.
The view from our toilet.
Our toilet.
On this trip one thing I learned about myself was how afraid I am of wild animals. There is a large bear population in BC, amongst other predatory creatures. On our walk to the sauna, we spotted a carcass from something (hopefully an animal), which gave me the creeps and reminded me that yes, there were indeed flesh-eating animals amongst us.
After dark, I brushed my teeth at the outdoor sink as quickly as possible, nervously scanning the pitch black woods with my flashlight. Any time I had to pee after dark, my husband had to tag along as a security blanket.
One of the days was a perfect, sunny fall day and we had just sat outside and talked for a while as we looked out at the lake. My husband went in to have a nap, and I decided I’d stay outside and journal. Being alone, my ears perked up at any little sound. I heard something rustling through the bushes up the hill, and when I turned around to see the movement of greyish-brown legs, I quickly leapt up to run inside, thinking it was perhaps a mountain lion.
After a few moments, I saw large ears and big round eyes pop up and look right at me, and I realized it was a couple of deer calmly making their way through the woods and snacking on the roughage as they went. I quietly went to the yurt door and woke up my husband to come and see. They looked right at us and moved a bit closer as they continued on their path, completely unfazed by our presence. It was a really magical few minutes.
A little hard to see in the picture, but here are our two deer friends.
On the third morning as we packed up and got ready to leave, it hit me that I hadn’t looked in a mirror for three days, on account of the lack of a mirror. I then quickly realized how freeing that was. I could have had the biggest zit on my face and would have been blissfully unaware. This wasn’t the case though, since the combination of unpolluted air, sauna, lake water, rest, and a temporarily simpler life worked wonders for my skin.
All in all, I was sad to say goodbye. And I was absolutely dreading the moment our phones would regain service and the notifications would start to filter in. I knew that from that point forward we really needed more adventures like this, to take a break from the hustle and bustle of modern life.
Here are all the life lessons I took away from our mini honeymoon in the woods:
My definition of packing light was wrong.
I’m even less in shape than I thought I was.
A flushing toilet surrounded by four walls and a door is a luxury I will never take for granted again. But so is a toilet with a mountain and lake view.
Our cat is not destined to be an “adventure cat” and that’s okay.
As an adult, I’m still afraid of the dark—and the possibility of flesh-eating predators is way scarier than ghosts.
In moments of fear, I should keep my mind open to the possibility of finding beauty.
We should always bring an abundance of non-electrical light sources on a camping or glamping trip. And on the other hand, living by a bit of candlelight after sundown feels really nice.
Not looking at myself in the mirror for several days is incredibly freeing.
Device- and distraction-free quality time is so underrated and needs to happen more often.
My new husband and I can conquer anything. Even sharing a bucket and some sawdust as a toilet for three days.