Spoiler: You don’t need 5 acres and a mule to be happy. Sometimes the real trap is believing you do.
The Fantasy We All Know
“Get away from it all.”
“Live off the land.”
“Raise chickens and watch sunsets.”
“Trade traffic for tranquility.”
We’ve all said it.
I lived it.
After a decade of world travel, cushy remote software gigs, and postcard-perfect addresses, my wife and I cashed in our urban chips for North Idaho utopia.
- Remote job? Check.
- Baby on the way? Check.
- Tired of Colorado’s rainbow-colored chaos? Double check.
So I traded the Audi for a lifted Tundra and chased the cliché.
What We Were Running From
Let’s be real—2020-2022 was a fever dream:
- Election math that broke Benford’s Law
- “My body, my choice”… unless it was the jab
- Apartment complexes getting gang-jacked by imported crews
- 5G towers blooming like dystopian daisies
- Kids learning pronouns before phonics
Enough was enough.
We wanted land, space, and sanity.
Road Trip to Freedom (Or So We Thought)
Montana: “Welcome! Now Get Off My Lawn.”
- 90% of the state: Private Property. No Trespassing.
- Flathead Lake? One public pebble beach. The rest? McMansions.
- Churches on one corner, porn shops on the next.
Verdict: Hard pass.
North Idaho: “This Is It!”
- Sandpoint & Coeur d’Alene = Instagram in real life
- Pine-scented air, mask-free smiles, Trump flags waving like Tibetan prayer flags
- Found a 5-acre slice of heaven in Sagle for Boulder-suburb money
- Backyard trail, external office, 1-mile to the lake
We were home.
The Honeymoon Phase: Pure Bliss
- Built a perimeter trail like a woodland king
- Worked from a shed, broke for forest walks
- Town was 10 minutes, Spokane 90
This was the dream.
Then our son arrived.
And reality unpacked its bags.
The Slow Unraveling
1. Isolation: Population = 1 Baby + 2 Parents + 0 Backup
- No family visits (too far, too snowy)
- Friends saw the map and noped out
- “We’ll come!” → crickets
2. Work-from-Home = Work-from-Lonely
- 40 hours alone in a box
- Coworking space? Still alone, just with better Wi-Fi
- Boundaries? What boundaries?
→ Slack pings at breakfast, diaper changes during standups
3. Groundhog Day Menu
- 4 restaurants. 5 DoorDash options.
- Potatoes? Yes. Veggies? Seasonal mythology.
- Hikes? Same 3 trails or a 1-hour drive.
4. Infrastructure: Off-Grid Until You Need the Grid
- Dirt road (paved 2 weeks before we left)
- Highway 95: 65 mph demolition derby
- Internet? Starlink or bust
- Well, septic, propane — DIY adulthood
5. Politics: Welcome to the Alt-Right Petting Zoo
- Facebook groups: “Keep Idaho Idaho!”
- California plates = honks, middle fingers, prayer circles
- Change? Burn it in the slag pile.
The Neighbor From Hell (A True Story)
One day, my wife and son are strolling our trail.
BAM.
A moldy hay mountain blocks the path.
Enter Karen of the Forest:
The neighbor rented to a tenant and they gossiped that we “stole land” and when we walked our trail on our property, we were actually on their property.
So she dumped poop hay on our trail and texted gems like:
“Libtard jerks… go back to Colorado… we’re praying your house sells so we can have a block party! 💩💩💩”
We paid $2,000 for a survey.
Result: Trail was 30 feet too far onto OUR side.
She had to move her hay empire.
War over. Dream? Dead.
The Big Wake-Up Call
We moved to Idaho to band together when the SHTF.
Instead, we saw:
- Hoarders, not helpers
- “Every man for himself” with AR-15s
- A community that would eat its own before sharing a potato
Enlightening? Yes. Terrifying? Also yes.
The Silver Lining (Because There Was One)
- Sandpoint Men’s Group = emotional intelligence oasis in a sea of stoicism
- Isolation forced deep inner work — I learned to feel my feelings (finally).
- Spirit guided us here to break the fantasy
- No distractions, no friends, no quick getaways: we were alone together with zero external noise. Every trigger, every pattern, every unspoken resentment had nowhere to hide. We either faced our stuff as a couple or imploded. Turns out the woods became our unpaid therapist (although we did have a very expensive couples therapist I can recommend).
The New Philosophy
Old belief:
“Shield my kid from the crazy.”
New belief:
“Raise a resilient human who can surf the chaos with love and critical thinking.”
We don’t need to hide in the woods.
We need roots, community, and courage — even in the suburbs.
Back to Colorado: Waking Up from the Dream
- Sold the house (90 days on market — ouch)
- Moved back near Boulder
- Sidewalks? Glorious.
- Culture? Yes, please.
- Traffic? I’ll take it over dirt-road roulette.
The Real Lesson (For You, Dear Reader)
You don’t need to “get away from it all” to find peace.
That’s just another ego trap dressed in flannel.
Happiness isn’t a zip code.
It’s showing up fully — wherever you are.
I chased the cliché.
I lived it.
I outgrew it.
Now?
I meditate on my suburban deck,
watch my son chase the dog,
and laugh at how far I had to go
to realize I never had to leave.
🧘♂️ Your Turn
Where are you trying to escape to?
Drop a comment — let’s talk about it.
And if you’re in North Idaho? Join the men’s group. Seriously.
