The Place Where We Live: Bioregional Vacationing

Written by Karen

In wintertime, sometimes we begin thinking about an escape to another place. Whether because of the hectic nature of holidays or the shorter amounts of daylight, a vacation is welcome downtime. It can also be some of the only “unplugged” time families have with each other. These days, however, it can also be first on the chopping block of the family budget. But it doesn’t have to be.

In our family, we love to take our vacations right here. I call it the bioregional vacation. It can be an extended time of up to a week (or longer) or just a day or two (Unplugged Sunday). Taking the time to really see your own place the way a tourist might see it is so satisfying. It takes a little planning to take a vacation in your own area since the temptations of work, meetings and everyday tasks can beckon, but it can easily be done. 

Tips for the local vacation:

• Travel to a nearby town or even somewhere in your own, but pack as if you are traveling far away. Do not bring a computer. Do not schedule any day-to-day tasks or meetings during that time.

• Tell colleagues or clients you are going on vacation and not to call unless it is an emergency.

• Do not go home until the vacation is over.

• Consider a house trade with local friends or enjoying a bed and breakfast that you have actually stopped by to inspect ahead of time. 

• Make a list of the places in the area that you would like to experience.

• Notice the prominent natural landmarks of your area. Here, it is the river. Often, my husband and son take a boat out on the river for the afternoon, giving me a much-loved break of alone time, creative time, or tea-time with a friend.

• Call a friend for tea or lunch out. So often we see a friend, say we’ll connect soon, and then never do. Use this time to enjoy your friends along with your family!

• Spend time at a local farm; kids love this. Take a tour, wander around the farm, and stop for produce at the end. You could even volunteer on a work day.

Local vacations offer some special things that faraway vacations do not. 

• Friends can come along with you. One year, during my birthday, we rented an off-the-grid forest retreat cabin for a week. It was located 30 minutes from home. Then we invited a few friends to stay a couple of days with us and celebrate.

• When you enjoy a specific activity or place, the experience is repeatable. No need to say, “We’ll have to come here again” and then never make it back.

• When your vacation ends, it is a short trip home. You can enjoy the entire last day, head out in the evening, stop for a leisurely dinner and then be home.

• No airline or rental car costs means saved money and a longer or more involved vacation. Especially for families with children, this can be huge.

• Kids grow up knowing their local landscape.

The place where we live.

The more we explore our local native area, the more we find to appreciate and love. Making it a vacation gives us an excuse to enjoy it without feeling like we should be doing something else. 

What began out of financial necessity has become rich and sustaining. My husband and I are tuned in to our local issues, largely because of our focused interactions with the landscape. We love and feel supported by our community.

We have stayed in: a yurt; a solar-powered mountaintop estate; an off-grid forest cabin and cottages near the beach to name a few. We enjoy a variety of parks and farms and even finally walked across the Golden Gate Bridge! 

Going deeper, finding more layers, and developing relationships, the place where we live becomes more than just a location; it feels like we really live here. And when winter comes, there is less restlessness, and a growing sense of anticipation for our area’s seasonal treasures and what else we might discover here. 

Where would you go if you were to vacation in your own place? 


With whom would you spend the time?

Alpaca Medicine

Written by Nicole

We’re moving to the mountains, but we’re taking the public with us. 

That is what David, the owner of Paca Pride Guest Ranch, said to us as he led us around the grounds of his permaculture-style Alpaca farm. On the outside, David and his partner were living in the heart of a vibrant city, both with successful corporate jobs yet on the inside felt a sense of disconnect.

So they made a huge decision to leave the city life and head to the mountains where their hearts already lived. And it would have been easy for David and his partner to buy a small cabin in the woods and live a simple life “away from it all.” It would have been easy to try and remedy their sense of disconnect by doing their own thing entirely. 

Lucky for us they didn’t do that. Instead they followed their hearts and opened their home to the public. They healed that sense of disconnect by engaging with their surroundings, providing a home to a growing pack of rescued Alpacas, and by literally reviving the land they purchased using mindful permaculture techniques. Every square inch of the property has a purpose and function beyond its natural beauty.

Our family decided to spend one of last month’s unplugged days visiting this Alpaca farm, and I couldn’t help but notice this underlying theme: that we disconnect from our computers and devices not as a way to disconnect from life. No. We disconnect from technology so that we can connect with the living, breathing, beating pulse of life. We unplug to connect in-the-flesh with beautiful, creative souls. To learn. To grow. To flourish. That is what David did when they moved to the mountains and invited everyone else to visit them too—he unplugged from his disconnect in order to connect and engage in a deeper way with life. 

Aside from leaving Paca Pride Guest Ranch feeling refreshed by my surroundings, I felt inspired by the commitment to sustainability that the owners have there.  And beyond that, I left feeling more hopeful about the direction of our collective values for the future. 

This unplugging thing is really something.

Thoughts on Simplicity

Written by Damien

Slowing down. Simplifying. Minimizing. Unplugging. These are the mantras many of us hear echoing throughout our Internet worlds.

Life can be busy, complicated, and stressful. We all know this and we don't like it. We don't want to be trapped in a flow that is heading straight for a cliff. We see scaling back and simplifying as a way to push back against the tide of "too much". Unplugging with family one day a week is just one of the many ways we reclaim some of what we feel is missing in our lives.

What do you reclaim by simplifying your life?

If you think that you are reclaiming "time", then you might be surprised to discover - as we did - that it doesn't quite work the way you think. You no doubt have heard the saying: "Good food takes time to prepare". That sentiment goes for pretty much anything in life; quality living takes time and effort. A simpler life doesn't give you more time, it just distributes the time differently. You spend more time doing fewer things, hopefully the things that really matter. For us this equates to more time spent together as a family in the outdoors.

If you think that you are reclaiming "money", again you may be surprised. Simplifying your life ultimately means being contented with less. For some this will equate to a shift away from debt - a very good thing. It may also mean a shift towards quality. If you have fewer things, one tends to hold quality and aesthetic in higher regard - both of which tend to cost more. A simpler life doesn't give you more money, it just distributes it differently. It gives you more financial and personal freedom. For us this equates to spending less money in other areas so we can afford the clothing and gear we need for spending time in the outdoors.

What we have begun to reclaim is quality. Quality time, quality relationships, quality food... Instead of rushing to meet all of our obligations in a half-assed fashion and winding up completely spent, we are better able to spend the time we need for the things that are important to us. Things start to become sustainable.

A couple of years ago when I was on the phone with a friend. We were trying to sync our schedules for getting together but we were having problems finding a date we could agree on. The date my friend wanted was in direct conflict with our family hiking day. He was surprised that our schedule was so booked despite the fact that we were trying to simplify our lives.

This is where I came to a realization: yes, we have simplified our lives but instead of doing too much, we are spending more time doing less. This has meant guarding our precious resources (time and money) and rather than saying yes to everything (despite how good it might be) we end up saying no to a lot as well. Sometimes it feels like we say no more often than we say yes.

I am not a gardener, but I can appreciate a good garden. They are beautiful, wholesome, and are a good representation of what we see as a life well lived. Anyone who has tried their hand at gardening can tell you that reaping the fruits of a fertile garden doesn't come easy. It is a lot of work. It is a process that requires years to learn and regular tending to develop.

I would say that living a simple, wholesome, quality life is the same way. It is hard work. It is really easy for the weeds to take over if you aren't careful. But if you persevere with the process the fruits are more than worth it.

Weekend Inspiration

Written by Heather

A couple of our writers have mentioned recently how preparation for a relaxed, unplugged day can be key for its success. This is a great point! A few mental notes can help your day flow better. It might seem counter-intutitive, but a little preparation can help you sink into relaxation or adventure more easily. 

Sometimes peeking in on what others are up to helps to spark our own ideas.

Heading in to this weekend, I thought I'd share a few items that might inspire you - activities, reflections on unplugging, and sheer inspiration. Make yourself a cup of tea and enjoy!

• Make a Gratitude Tree
• Maureen Cracknell Handmade - Unplugged Sunday
• Getting There - Unplugged Sunday
• Our One Sweet Family - Harvest Days
• Salt and Chocolate - Scenes from and Unplugged Sunday
• Clean - Unplugging and Getting Outside
• Begin Holiday Gift Making
• Plan a Craft Project

Video Inspiration
Thank you AMC and Renee.






Wishing each of you a wonderful weekend! May it be filled with all the activity, creativity, and relaxation that you desire.

Off the Trail

Written by Carrie

After many days of seemingly unending rain, it finally stopped. Always eager to get outside on a crisp fall day, my family went foraging for mushrooms.

A successful mushroom hunt is equal parts acceptance that you may come home empty handed and excitement about the thrill of the pursuit.

We'd only taken 6 year old Abby once before when she was still tiny enough to ride in a backpack. You see, mushroom hunting is best done off beaten paths, following veins of golden fungus up through mucky, rough terrain.

“All paths are possible, many will work, Being blocked is its own kind of pleasure, Getting through is a joy “

Now that Abby is a more experienced hiker and able to manage herself, we felt she was ready to try off-trail travel.

My husband and I have been crossing paths for 25 years, but have only been together for eleven of those years. Our “way” has always been slightly different from the mainstream. We think and plan before we leap, but we are willing to leap, to tread together off the trail.

After getting engaged in 2001, we finished our contracted jobs, I sold my car to buy a kayak, and we loaded our boats on top of Tom's wagon and drove south along the west coast of the United States. We crossed the Mexican border on September 30th, 2001. Our friends and family were worried for us to travel outside of the U.S. just weeks after the September 11th plane hijackings. We saw it as a chance to gain some perspective.

A chance to extend some kindness and step outside of our comfort zone.

When we got married the following year, we read Gary Snyder's beautiful poem, “Off the Trail.” Swapping lines, we hoped it would extend a bit of explanation to our community about what sort of path or non-path we saw in front of us. One of meandering, leaning on each other and then not. We have always been open to seeing“where the wild will take us.”

We jumped at a chance to follow the promise of meaningful (low-paying) employment and found a home-base in a small community on the North Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. Long before this area was known for fictional werewolves and vampires, it called to us. We moved in on the way home from our honeymoon.

We've lived in this small town for the totality of our marriage. No one here was at our wedding or knew us before the kid and the house and the station wagon.

We live a quiet life here.

Tom made his way up the rungs of the non-profit ladder and found himself running the whole organization.

We had a kid.
We built community.
We invested ourselves and the people of this place gave back.

When we discovered a huge tumor tucked away inside of Tom's brain in 2007, this town came to our aid in ways that I will always be awed by. Aside from that “excitement,” we've lived a seemingly “normal,” path-following life here.

So, when Tom left his job at the end of June this year, people here were a bit shocked. A few even insisted that we must have come “into some money.” I mean, why else would we decide to leap from the security of his employment into the unknown? Especially in this economy.

I've heard that last sentence from folks more times than I'd like to remember.

“Especially in this economy.”

The simple answer to their question is that it was time to move on. As his job changed, he was away from us on business travel more and more and after nine years, it was time to pass on the reins and find our next adventure.

We've built our relationship on a whole lot of faith. The faith that our way will appear when we need it. Faith that fear will only bring darkness for our family. If we spent our energy worrying about what might come next, we'd be stuck. Mired in non-action, discontent, unhappiness.

“No path will get you there, we’re off the trail, 

You and I, and we chose it!”

We're nearly four months into this experiment of unemployment. We've both been seeking employment that will work for our family. We know this in-between-ness won't last forever, so we're attempting to take full advantage of Tom being home all the time.

It was in this spirit that we set off to show Abby the way of the non-way. We took her into the damp, spongy understory of our wilderness.

She picked her way across a clear-cut, over fallen logs, through deep mossy bogs, down steep hills and back up equally steep inclines. She made decisions about which way was safe, which way was risky and walked a fine line between the two. She found plenty to notice. Multitudes of fungus. A banana slug. More trash than I'd like to admit.

We spent an hour and a half out there. Being off-trail though, it was like the work of climbing a small mountain. She found her way, stopping to rest, looking for a clear path, and sometimes, choosing the steepest section, just to see if she could climb it.

The fruits of our labor? Well, in actual edible mushrooms, we found four. 

The true fruit in all of this lays deeper, of course.

“This is wild!

We laugh, wild for sure, Because no place is more than another, All places total“ 

(Poem excerpts from Gary Snyder's Off The Trail.)

An Alaskan Family Dog Sleds

Written by Jenny

In addition to splitting and stacking our firewood, putting the boat away , and digging out the winter  clothes our family has  been  eagerly anticipating  our new winter pastime…dog mushing.

In less than 10 days our  5 racing dogs will be in our very own back yard.

Yes, we really are that crazy.

Preparing for their arrival has been work. A  lot of hard, physical, wonderful work.

For the past several Sundays our family has been together scraping a perfect dog yard out of the birch grove next to our house. We’ve been digging trenches to lay wire for the lights we will need to feed the dogs and take them out for night runs. We have been pacing off the amount of space we need for each dog’s house. (18 feet.) We have been discussing how to best arrange the houses and where to put the path to hitch them to the sleds. We’ve been clearing and burning brush and roasting marshmallows on the fire.

Sunday suppers have become less complicated as we  push to finish just one more post, just one more bag of grass seeds planted.  Just one more swipe of the bulldozer to perfect the drainage.  

As we sit around the table savoring the moose steaks and mashed potatoes  we share our plans for the winter with the dogs.

Momma wants to skijor. Dad wants to camp in the White Mountains, the 11 year old dreams up his racing strategies , the 9 year old hopes to get a new fur mushers hat to keep her ears warm, and the 4 year old announces that someday she will be a  musher like her hero, Iditarod champion, Lance Mackey. Her lead dog will be named Cinderella.

After the dishes are done and the dirt from building has been cleaned away and the kids are asleep, my husband and I put on our boots and jackets and carry our glasses of wine out to the dog yard. We admire just how much we were able to do altogether on a Sunday afternoon, and sometimes, because we are silly that way, we like to jump on the dog sleds and pretend we are already out on that  moonlit trail .

Unplugged in Denmark

Written by Sage


We are very excited to have quite a few new writers joining us here at Unplugged Sunday! We are an ever-growing community of people from around the world who enjoy taking a step back, slowing down and connecting.

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“Hygge” (pronounced something along the lines of “hooga”) is a highly regarded part of Danish culture.  It's difficult to explain hygge, but it often involves food, friends, family, and lots of white candles.  It's more of a vibe than a thing, but it's often translated to English as “cosiness.”  

One of my favorite “hyggeligt” Danish experiences was spent with a group of girls on a cold, damp Sunday drinking mulled cider and learning to knit socks. If you can imagine that warm, bonding feeling, then you understand hygge.  

In the US, I usually spent my weekends dealing with chores and projects that I didn't have time or energy for during the week.  Before I knew it, I'd be sitting in traffic, staring down another work week, freaking out about everything I hadn't gotten to.

But Denmark is more laid back.  Our work week is 37.5 hours.  We have comp time and 30 days of paid vacation, so I only work ten and a half months of the year, which means I don't have to decide between traveling or enjoying a peaceful week at home.  There's plenty of time for both!  

Last winter, I spent 16 days in Thailand visiting Buddhist temples and learning Thai cooking, and I still had enough time to visit Rome, Tuscany, the Norwegian Fjords, and enjoy some quiet time at home.

Naturally, the weekend vibe here is also laid back, a lot of time is spent with family and friends, mostly at home, though cafés can also have quite a hyggelight atmosphere, especially in the winter when it's dark about 18 hours of the day, tiny tea lights provide most of the light, and hot cocoa seems like a cup of nirvana.

Shopping is not a national pastime.  Most shops close by 2 o'clock on Saturday afternoon and don't open again until Monday, except for the first Sunday of the month when they open shortly to give everyone a chance to spend their paychecks (we're paid on the first of the month).  

I moved here alone and so despite a strong expat community and the amazing travel opportunities, I inevitably spend some weekends alone.  Sometimes I'm slightly envious of those who are here with their partners, but mostly, I enjoy the simplicity and slow pace of this life...

Homemade blueberry muffins, tea, and an English book!

Sometimes, I need a break from rundstykker med skiver ost (bread rolls with cheese).  Danish bakeries are wonderful, but from time to time, I can't stop craving what I can't buy.  Scarcity does strange things to a palate.  Once, I came very close to spending 20 quid on a box of Lucky Charms from the UK, I barely touched the things when I lived stateside.    

I enjoy biking alone with my camera. Cars and fuel are very expensive in Denmark... gas is around $8/gallon and the tax to register a car is 180% of the car's value, so it costs more to register the car than to buy the car.  Due to a lot of red tape, I haven't been unable to convert my US license to a Danish license, so I ride my bike regardless of the weather.  On the upside, European city bikes are elegant and retro :)

I'm hard pressed to find anything that warms my heart and fills me with more love and compassion than watching Opie being lazy in the sun.  He's like a big, soft teddy bear that purrs!

I find such accomplishment in tailoring things I find at the secondhand shops. A few relaxing hours at the ironing board and sewing machine, a little hand stitching, and this Laura Ashley skirt is upcycled and perfect.

Even though it makes me wistful for New England, I try to savor every second of this changing season.  Riding my bike through the foggy morning streets, surrounded by beautiful colors is just a new kind of magic for where I am now.  And really, where I am now is what's most important.

Hygge is most traditionally experienced with friends and family, but it's also alive and well in solitude.  And its one of the things I'll bring with me wherever I go from here.