Something from Nothing: Godspeed, Water Shoes

Digital Detox New England 2024

Something from Nothing

When I was 18 I signed up for an 8-day Rafting and Mountaineering course in central Oregon. After I paid for the trip, I found out I wasn’t allowed to bring my phone. That concerned me. I wouldn’t be able to check the value of my stocks, as I’d done every day for months. I called the organization and asked if I could bring it, trying to sound like I had important business to attend to. 

They said no. 

Thank god. 

It ended up being one of the best weeks of my life thus far. 

Three years later, at age 21, I did another trip with them in the North Cascades. I was happy to leave my phone behind.

Four years later, at 25, I reconnected with the wilderness via a week long Jonas Expedition in the Montana/Idaho Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness. After that, I decided to point my life in the direction of screen-free most days. The problem for me was that wilderness retreats typically run $3k/week. I could go into the woods without my vices for as long as I wanted. But I’d be bored and alone. What I really want is a dozen cool people doing outdoor activities.

I created a slide deck and pitched the idea of a device-free retreat weekend to a few friends. Digital Detox New England was born. I wrote an FAQ, came up with a price, and compiled it into a Linktree landing page. 

I wrote an invite email and blasted it out to everyone who I thought would be interested. 

Someone replied: Chris, I am in! How do I pay?

I didn’t actually know.

I looked at the payment instructions that Jonas Expeditions sent me. It was just a PDF with their business info and PayPal and Venmo links. I modeled that, added a refund policy, and sent it over. 

He paid.

When people start paying you for stuff that you just made up it’s like Oh my god it’s happening.

I created an application via Typeform to collect info on potential attendees. A fellow Substack creator applied. We hopped on a video call, and he too paid. 

We had enough money to book a house. I was still skeptical if this was actually a thing. I found a lake house that offered free cancellation until two weeks before. I talked with the owner and pulled the trigger.

It had been 1 year since the Jordan Jonas trip. I reconnected with one of the guys on the trip and said, Did I tell you I’m hosting a nature retreat in New Hampshire? 

Is that an invite? He said.

Hell yeah it is.

We now had three guests booked and two friends co-hosting. My massage therapist, Krystal, offered to give everyone massages in exchange for a ticket. So then we were 7. But the day before the retreat, I got back to back texts. Krystal’s car was stolen, and she couldn’t come. Dave was on his way from New York and got sick. So then we were five. 

Day 1: Paddling Out

Ben flew in from Florida and I picked him up at the bus station. When he got in my car, it all became very real. We drove north to the mountains, stopping at grocery stores along the way. I bought rib eye steaks, ground elk, sourdough bread, and a lot more. 

Ben and I were the first to get to the lake house, followed by David, then Luke and Jenna, who drove from Canada. The first thing we did was pump up the paddle boards.

David said about paddleboarding, “I’m not going to do that today. I’ll go swimming.”

“Okay,” I said. 

We walked to the beach.

“I’ll try it,” Ben said. “I’ll probably fall in.”

I adjusted Ben’s paddle then threw my board down on the water at knee depth and said, “Do this.”

I climbed onto the board on my knees. 

“Then this.”

I paddled out. 

Ben followed. 

David waded into the water. I paddled back and said, “I can give you a ride.”

“That’s okay.”

“It’s easy to get two people on here if you want.”

“Okay, why not,” he said.  

I move to the back and he climbs on. 

I start paddling. “You’re the navigator,” I say. We paddle out to an island. Ben is way behind us. We round the corner to see the whole lake. I split the kayak paddle in half so we both have a paddle, doubling our speed. 

We turn our ship and see Ben, who is totally soaked. We didn’t hear the splash. 

I give my paddle to David and jump in. I swim to Ben and climb aboard his vessel for a ride to the beach. 

Now it’s David on a board paddling by himself. He loves it. Ben and him go out. David stands. He’s looking down at his feet, wobbling like a mad man. 

“Focus on the horizon,” I say from the beach. 

“Thanks,” he says, “It’s helping.”

They paddle out. I take a photo. David lays on the board in the middle of the lake. 

Post paddleboarding, we went to a nearby goat farm, Little Red Hen, that has an amazing farm store. After hanging with the goats, we bought a variety of local produce for the weekend, including herbed asiago sourdough bread, pistachio goat milk ice cream, and vanilla goat yogurt. 

Back at the house, we lit a fire. The existing firewood was damp, so we foraged wood from the forest to fuel our fire.

Around the flames, David told a story of his grandfather who emigrated from Europe to Argentina, then America, where he joined the military during World War II to get fast-tracked to citizenship. He deployed to Europe where he was able to visit his destroyed hometown. He found his father and learned his mother had died. 

After the beautiful story, Jenna introduced a game. Someone says a first name and if you know someone by that name, you can tell a story about them. I said “Emily” which happened to be Luke’s sister’s name. Luke talked about her, and then it was his turn to pick a name. He thought for moment and said, “Does anyone know a Hugo?”

“That was my grandfather’s name,” David said.

I could hardly believe it. The odds of that are too low. 

“Luke has never said that name before,” Jenna said. 

That’s something out of a Carl Jung book. 

David told us more about Hugo. 

My co-host Luke McKim doesn’t use the internet very much. A decade ago, caught in the frequency of addiction, he stumbled into a yoga retreat in Costa Rica where he had a life-changing experience. He spent the next 10 years studying and practicing yoga, from the Himalayas to the Bahamas. He’s now a wealth of ancient wisdom. 

People encourage him to post online, but instead he goes swimming. I got to meet him because my mom happened to go on the same retreat to Costa Rica.

Day 2: Mt Morgan and Mt Percival

Each day started on the small beach at the lake. We did stretching and breathing, and creative activities. We walked back to the house, cooked up a big breakfast, and drove to the mountains for a day-hike.

I had everyone sign a waiver, and created an LLC, because the plan was to do a hard-rated hike in the White Mountains that required climbing ladders up cliffs, and optionally going inside caves.

We got to the trailhead. Since we didn’t have our phones, I drew the trailhead map into my journal. 

The team smashed it. I was impressed.

At the top, we asked a couple to take a photo with Luke’s mom’s digital camera. That sparked a conversation. It was their wedding anniversary.

“What’s it like, 20 years of raising kids?”

“Goes by in half a second, and now we’re here.”

We referenced the journal map a few times and asked other hikers how to find the caves. We went into the caves then maneuvered over boulders, making our own trail to get back to the main trail.

On the long hike down Mt Percival I was talking to Water Shoes, David’s nickname, since he always had them on hand. I was telling him about a book I read called Tribe. Junger talks about who/what brings people together. NYC was happy and healthy in the days following 9/11. 

“Is there a way to create a tribe without trauma?” Water asked.

“We’re doing it right now,” I said. 

The hike was hot and hard. Getting in and out of the caves was tough. Bonds are formed in the forge of shared adversity. 

The sun was setting, and we went back to the house where we grilled the ribeyes.

We held hands and said words of gratitude. 

Day 3: Mountain Manifesting

The next morning we walked to the beach where we did our morning warmup. After a breakfast of New Hampshire grown oats, berries, eggs, and goat cheese, we traveled via tram to the top of Cannon mountain. The previous year, I was here with Jenna and Luke. Atop the lookout tower, a girl generously gifted us blueberries that she picked on her hike to the summit. 

This year, at the base of the tower, Jenna said to me, I wonder if we can manifest more blueberries. 

As we walked up the steps, I remembered that I have blueberries in the cooler in my right hand, and Jenna doesn’t know that.

I told Water Shoes this important fact. 

“Give them to a stranger to give to her,” he said. 

I approached a man, whose face looked a little like a blueberry, and presented him with the opportunity. He said, “Which woman?”

I deposited the berries into his hand. 

Jenna was in the corner, absorbing the view. He tapped her on the shoulder and held out his hand. “Would you like some berries?” 

Her jaw dropped.

I have never seen a mouth so wide open. 

She’d witnessed a miracle.

Everyone was looking and laughing. She realized what just happened. 

“I’ve been planning this for a year,” I joked, and gave her a hug. 

We missed the tram down, but it didn’t matter. We ate our New Hampshire sourdough sandwiches on the summit, looking down route 93 toward the next destination: The Basin. 

Receving blueberries on the tower in 2023

Heaven

We hiked past the touristy spot, deviated from the path, and meandered up a granite river bed sprinkled with swim spots.

I climbed over a boulder and an array of waterfalls became visible. I looked back and made eye contact with a wide-eyed Luke who said, “This is like heaven.”

Awe of nature overtook us is in the best way.

An organic thing happened. No one said anything, but we all felt it. I just want to be here right now and absorb the experience. We sat on the boulders, watching the falling water and trees.

There was no need to photograph because we were sharing the experience in real time. David commented that the cascading falls reminded him of a reverse fire. 

This is what it’s all about. Exploring, playing, creating, sharing, connecting. 

I want to do more of this! 

This is real. 

We walked down the hot granite slabs in bare feet. 

“Ahh! This is so satisfying!” Jenna yelled. 

The final stop of the day was Livermore falls. We watched two teenagers jump and fall 100 feet into the river.

I hopped on Luke’s back, and he ran into the river and swam fifty feet, upstream, with 150 pounds on his back. We got to the cliffs where the youths were hanging out and cliff jumping. 

From a distance, one of them looked at Luke and yelled, Is that Crispy Biscuits?

I started laughing. The young man explained, “Last weekend there was a guy here who said his name was Crispy Biscuits. I was like, alright, fuckin shit… Yo lowkey I fuh wih that.”

We imitated the teenager’s vernacular and laughed about it for many hours afterward. 

By the end of the third day, we all had nicknames. Crispy B, Salamander, Water Shoes, Mountain Goat, and Tinkerbell.

That night, we cooked up elk burgers, built a big fire, and traded more stories. Jenna asked everyone about the most interesting or memorable meals we’ve ever had, and the coolest place we’ve eaten a meal. I dug through my memories and conjured my best stories. When you tell a story, you’re also telling yourself a story, creating the lore of your life.

We found our way inside to play Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza, with custom special cards that I added to the deck. Taco Cat is fun as hell and physical, which amped us up before bed. Luke, a trained Kundalini yoga master, guided us through two breathing techniques that aid with sleep. I almost fell out of the chair.

Day 4: Godspeed, Water Shoes

The final morning, we made and ate duck-egg-sourdough French toast, with NH maple syrup. More local food from the local farm. 

Too soon, it was time for Water Shoes to head out, back to the working world. Tinkerbell and Crispy B stood on the porch and waved goodbye. 

“Godspeed, Water Shoes!” Tinker yelled.

After a long overdue 45 second hug, Crispy and Mountain parted ways. Salamander and Mountain Goat headed south, stopping for a quick hike and lake swim, and a coffee in downtown Concord. Tinker and Crispy headed east, to the ocean, then back to Canada. 🍁 

Reflecting Forward 

I had a blast. This is the product I always dreamed of. A kickass barefoot week in the woods with a wicked crowd of creators. Bringing people together in the woods is something I do. 

Now that I’ve done it, I know how to do it, and do it even better. I’m already planning the next one. 

The retreat for me, perhaps ironically, is a huge motivator to lean more into sharing online and growing my email list of awesome people, so I can bring us together for more spectacular experiences. It was fulfilling to see everyone connect. If something feels fulfilling, keep doing it. 

Every other summer, my grandparents, who had six kids, would rent a large house, or two, in a beautiful part of America. My entire extended family, five aunts and uncles, cousins, and distant relatives, would fly in from all over for activities, games, talent shows, and big family meals. 

Families are smaller now. My grandparents are either dead or about to be. We don’t have another family reunion planned. But I do have this. And if you want, so do you. The next Digital Detox event is May 8-11 in New Hampshire. Join this email list to get updates.

Music

Thanks for reading, and have a great rest of your day.

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Post script

I’m telling my fire comrades: “There’s one line in my book that I always think of and laugh. When I give people the book, a few days later, I’ll think of them reading it and I think of this line…”

“That’s so meta,” says David. 

“I hear the C4 in your—” I start to say.

“Wait that wasn’t the line? You thinking of them reading the book?”

“I’ll put that in the next one.”

When I give someone a copy of my book I think about how they’re reading this line in the book. 

“Spend enough time with this guy, and you make it into the book,” says David. 

“Yes, exactly,” says Luke.

There’s an animal noise. 

“That was a goose, Sal. You’re gonna be alright.”

“They’re not fun,” he says. “They shit on your beach.” 

“I’ve taken on—”

“I thought you were gonna say you’ve pooped on a few beaches.”

“I believe that.”