The Woman on the Ferry: Chapter 19

Unplugged

Dear Readers, Welcome to my draft of chapter 19 of The Woman on the Ferry: A Journey of 1,000 Miles to Redefine Success and Discover Joy. If you haven’t yet, you can read the Introduction for free here.

Week 19: Unplugged

Week 19 of my 1,000-mile quest, spanning September 22 to 28, marked a significant transition in both my physical journey and my inner landscape. As I bid farewell to the rugged beauty of Oregon's Rogue River and returned to the familiar terrain of California, I found myself navigating more than just winding roads and challenging trails. This week became a profound exploration of time, intention, and the delicate balance between engagement and solitude. From the whimsical charm of a small-town festival to the quiet evenings spent with a good book, each experience contributed to a growing realization: the power to shape my days and find joy in simplicity lay within my grasp.

Rogue River Magic

The Rogue River has cast its spell on me, a magical waterway teeming with incredible, ever-changing features. My love affair with this river began years ago on a thrilling jet boat ride from Gold Beach, Oregon, introducing me to the Wild Rogue Wilderness. More recently, I'd explored trails near its headwaters by Crater Lake National Park. Now, I found myself at a charming county campground perched on the river's edge, with easy access to witness each day's sunrise at the boat launch.

After two days of strenuous hiking, Sunday offered a welcome respite with casual morning and evening strolls around the campground. As dusk settled, I encountered an amusing sight: a turkey perched regally on a yurt's deck railing, orange safety netting erected nearby. I watched, amused, as the turkey leapt off its perch, then called to its companions seemingly trapped on the other side of the netting. What followed was a comical turkey spectacle - each bird taking a running start to fly over the barrier, joining their alpha. Their raucous gobbling shattered the evening's tranquility before they continued their journey. Such moments of witnessing nature's quirks and wildlife's antics are joys I hope to never take for granted.

Monday brought the excitement of rafting day. With the season winding down and cool mornings limiting excursions to afternoons, I spent the morning doing loops around the campground before heading to the outfitter's base. The day's 90-degree high made me grateful to be on the water. Once on the river, I enjoyed a mostly serene journey punctuated by thrilling moments navigating Class 2 and 3 rapids. While I'd hoped for a display of autumn colors, the trees had yet to turn. Invigorated by the adventure, I capped off the day with more campground loops.

Tuesday saw me return to the Rogue River Trail, eager to discover what lay beyond Whiskey Creek cabin. The answer: more exceptional beauty. I paused at the creek to record the melodious sound of water tumbling over rocks. My journey culminated at a perfect turnaround point - a log perched atop a cliff overlooking the river. Recalling the painted rock's message to "find stillness," I savored every minute on my lofty perch, feeling profound gratitude for all life had given me. As evening approached, I once again found myself at the boat launch, capturing another magnificent Oregon sunset.

Wednesday, my final day in Oregon, took me to Grants Pass to explore Cathedral Hill's trails. The autumn day was picture-perfect for hiking. Cathedral Hills itself proved a wild maze of trails, necessitating frequent consultations with my AllTrails app. The peaks, while promising, were frustratingly ringed with "No Trespassing - Private Property" signs, secreting panoramic mountain views from public eyes. This disappointing final hike echoed the letdown of my last Washington trek, a bittersweet end to my Oregon adventures.

Despite this anticlimactic finish, my time on the Rogue River had been truly magical. From serene moments of stillness to thrilling rapids, from comical turkey antics to breathtaking sunsets, the river had shown me its many faces. As I prepared to leave Oregon, I carried with me a deepened appreciation for the wild beauty of the Rogue and the myriad ways it had enriched my journey.

28-Hour Days

Initially, the lack of cell service at the campground irked me. When scouting for campgrounds, connectivity is usually high on my priority list. But here I was, surrounded by nature, cut off from cell, television, and internet. Sharing photos and updates online necessitated trips into town. Yet, as days passed, I found myself slipping into a lifestyle that seemed to magically extend my days.

This digital detox revealed an uncomfortable truth: I had become obsessed with the latest news on the upcoming presidential election. This fixation was not only affecting my mood but also stealing precious time. Moreover, I couldn't deny that I'd been using mindless internet surfing as a distraction from. . . well, living.

On a supply run to town, I made a rare splurge - a new book by a favorite author. Reading, a pleasure I love but rarely made time for, became my evening ritual. As the sun dipped below the horizon, I'd curl up in my pajamas, losing myself in the mystery's intriguing riddles. This simple joy, somehow dropped from my routine, was one I vowed to restore.

My final hike in Oregon brought another lesson, albeit a challenging one. At the entrance to Cathedral Hills, my day was marred by an unsettling sight: a house festooned with political signs, including one proudly proclaiming "Voting for a Felon." I couldn't help but shake my head, wondering at the pride in such a statement. That sign haunted my thoughts mile after mile. It transported me back to a college project on the Holocaust, where I'd studied newspapers and magazines from the 1930s, tracking the rise of Germany's "savior," Adolf Hitler. The shock of seeing Jews likened to vermin, witnessing dehumanization in real-time, still resonates with me. Hannah Arendt's writings on the "banality of evil" echoed in my mind.

Here we stand, on the brink of an election that will shape the future of American democracy and civility. The airwaves are filled with the same divisive, hate-filled language, bolstered by party accomplices. It tormented me, and worse, left me feeling powerless.

I realized I couldn't - and didn't want to - completely tune out the political culture around me. But allowing these thoughts to dominate my mind was a joy-killer. The wilderness offered a solution: compartmentalization. Without constant internet access, I'd been forced to schedule my online time. Could I apply the same principle to politics? Limit my exposure to news scrolling, then disconnect and return to the present?

Perhaps, I thought, if I dedicated 30 minutes each day to penning my thoughts on the current political state, I could then set it aside. One thing was clear: politics was souring my mood, and change was desperately needed.

These unplugged days helped answer that perennial question: "Where did the time go?" I realized that somewhere along this journey, I'd lost intentionality with my time, allowing internet surfing and political YouTube rabbit holes to consume increasingly large chunks of my day. But here in the Rogue Wilderness, days felt longer, and my mood brighter. It wasn't coincidence.

I made a vow to compartmentalize my political brooding and online presence. The feeling of having 28-hour days was too precious to lose. This digital detox had shown me the value of being present, of rediscovering simple pleasures like reading, and of consciously choosing how to spend my time. As I prepared to leave the wilderness, I was determined to carry this newfound clarity with me, to continue creating days that felt rich, full, and purposeful - whether I was hiking a trail or navigating the complexities of modern life.

Return to Simplicity

As my week at Indian Mary Campground drew to a close, I found myself yearning for a simpler time. An era when three networks dominated the airwaves and news was rooted in facts rather than sensationalism. I longed for a period when political affiliations didn't define or divide everyday citizens, when women's liberation was opening doors and the future seemed bright with possibility. A simpler time, indeed.

But the reality is, we can't turn back the clock. The world has moved forward, for better or worse, and we must navigate the complexities it presents. Yet, I realized that in my own way, I had created a simpler lifestyle amidst the chaos of the modern world. My embrace of minimalism and my daily walks in nature were testament to this. I knew what brought me joy, what nourished my soul.

Still, I felt caught between two worlds - that hard road of relentless technological advancement and increasing social divisiveness, and the soft road of nature and respect for all of Earth's creatures. How could I bridge this divide? How could I maintain my connection to simplicity while still engaging with the world as it is?

In search of guidance, I imagined penning a letter to Celeste, my wise friend and mentor, and awaiting her response on one of her postcards:

Dear Brenda, 

The world around us has shifted, no doubt, but the essence of life remains the same. Simplicity isn’t tied to an era—it’s tied to intention. You’ve already found that softer road in your walks and your minimalist life, and that’s where your power lies. You don’t need to bridge the divide between chaos and calm—you just need to choose which road to walk more often. 

Technology and divisiveness will always exist, but they don’t own your spirit. Keep choosing what brings you joy, keep creating peace within yourself, and let that peace ripple outward.

Radiance comes from nurturing the simplicity within, and letting it shine despite the noise.

With love, 

Celeste

Celeste's words resonated deeply, reminding me that simplicity isn't tied to a specific era or external circumstances - it's a state of mind, a choice we make every day. I realized that I didn't need to bridge the divide between chaos and calm; I simply needed to choose which path to walk more often.

As I reflected on Celeste's wisdom, I began to see how I could apply it to my life moving forward. The key, I realized, was being intentional with my time. Instead of letting the day's hours slip away in a haze of mindless scrolling or reactive responses to the world's chaos, I could consciously choose how to spend each moment. This meant setting deliberate boundaries around my use of technology and consumption of news, carving out dedicated time for nourishing activities like my nature walks, reading, and moments of quiet reflection. It meant bringing the sense of presence I feel on the trail into my everyday interactions, fully engaging with the people and tasks before me rather than letting my mind wander to past regrets or future anxieties. By approaching each day with intention, I could create pockets of simplicity and joy even amidst the complexities of modern life, nurturing my spirit and staying true to my values no matter where my journey took me.

The simplicity I found in the Rogue wilderness wasn't just a fleeting experience - it was a template for how I could live my life, regardless of my surroundings. By being intentional with my choices and nurturing my spirit, I could create that simpler, more rewarding approach wherever my journey took me.

As I packed up my campsite, preparing to move on to new adventures, I felt a renewed sense of purpose and clarity. The challenges of the modern world remained, but I now had a stronger sense of how to navigate them while staying true to myself. I felt ready to face whatever lay ahead, one intentional step at a time.