“I, er, don’t think this is a path,” I mutter hesitantly, as I simultaneously duck underneath and climb over branches.
“I can hear cars,” my friend replies, ploughing ahead.
And, sure enough, we soon emerge from the tangle of trees, wet leaves, and our own shared sense of isolated doom onto the side of a busy road. We clamber over a silver barrier, scuttle across the road to a row of houses, and burst out laughing.
We have been lost for no more than half an hour — and, to be clear, we are not in some kind of wilderness; we are in Tunbridge Wells — but, for a second there, our lives flashed before our eyes. Nevermind that, even as we navigated our way through unmarked woodland, we could always see houses a little to our right, nor that it was about 11:30AM, so we had plenty of time to just turn back before it got dark. But, hey, we’re nothing but two 21st century girls with no smartphone and no map-reading skills. We practically almost died!
It had been my idea to walk to the pub, buoyed by the sense of accomplishment I hoped we’d feel after we’d mapped our way there with nothing but a compass and, well, a map. It had been going surprisingly well until I somehow veered off our route and into the woods — but, back in the safety of civilisation (we have never been so happy to see a Fiat 500 <3), we managed to get back on track and make it to the pub in time for a slap-up Sunday roast.
By now, we’re on the final day of our ‘digital detox’ weekend — a three-night stay at one of Unplugged’s cabins in the woods. And, aside from this little hiccup, we’ve been feeling more refreshed and calmer than ever. As soon as we arrived on Friday night, we’d locked our phones away in a little wooden box, swapping them for a brick phone, the aforementioned compass and map, and a polaroid camera. As our cabin, called Helix, is a first-of-its-kind wellbeing cabin — launched in collaboration with wellness platform and retailer Healf — we also have the luxury of a private wood-fired sauna and Monk ice bath too.
For those who haven’t heard of it, Unplugged launched in 2020 and now boasts over 50 cabins in countryside locations across the UK, always an hour or so outside of cities, making them easy to get to. The cabins have everything you need: a raised double bed (with storage underneath), a fully-kitted out kitchen, a table to eat and play games at, a bathroom, and an indoor wood burner. Outside, there’s wooden deck chairs, a picnic table, and a fire pit.
It’s basic but luxe, especially in Helix: our bed, with its Piglet bedding, was maybe the comfiest I’ve ever slept on; the shower was powerful; and the cabin was stylish and well-organised. In Helix, you also get a selection of wellbeing tools curated by Healf, including Pilates by Bryony yoga mats and resistance bands, a Therabody massage gun, and Dirtea Matcha (was I inhaling at least two matchas a day? Yes, obviously).
If you ask any of my friends, they’ll probably say I’m the last person who needs a digital detox. I make no bones about the fact that I’m a terrible texter. It’s like those ‘worst person you know going to therapy’ memes: me ‘needing’ to switch off when I’m barely on is, probably, pretty fucking annoying. But there’s a reason I’m a bad texter! I hate the pressure to be, excuse the pun, plugged in. I hate how we’re expected to be constantly contactable; how energy-sucking social media doomscrolling is (and how, despite knowing this, I can’t quit it); and how we’re bombarded with information 24/7. What’s more, as someone whose job requires them to be online — meaning when I’m not working, all I want to do is be away from a phone or computer screen — a digital detox is, actually, just what I need.
This is exactly why co-founders Hector Hughes and Ben Elliott set up Unplugged in the first place. “I was working in a fast-paced tech start-up in London, which was all go-go-go, and I ended up burning out hard,” Hughes tells me. “In search of a solution, I went on a two-week silent retreat to the Himalayas. While the solitude and silence was definitely healing, the most transformative part for me was locking my phone away: being disconnected from the outside world completely calmed my nervous system down and I felt like me again.”
Hughes quit his job as soon as he got back to London, and he and Elliott, who also worked at the start-up, started Unplugged. “I wanted to give other busy and burnt out folk a way to switch off properly, without having to travel to the other side of the world. The nature in the UK is gorgeous and we don’t value (or visit it) enough.”
Taking things a step further, Helix’s aim is to cater to those looking for balance; people who want to be more intentional with their tech. So, you lose your phone, but you don’t have to give up your sleep tech, red light devices, or radio. Helix is also the first Unplugged cabin to be mains-powered, so you can recharge any batteries/devices and, if you can’t get the fire going, there’s a heater you can plug in. “Helix is our first ‘on-grid’ cabin that has a little more power for the wellbeing products,” says Hughes. “We believe these small additions will enhance the overall experience, helping guests truly reset, improve relationships with their devices, and move from mindless scrolling to mindful living.”
It’s a wet weekend at the end of January when my friend and I visit Helix. Before arriving, I’d warned my friends and family that I would be uncontactable (more so than usual) for a few days, and gave my mum and boyfriend the phone number of the provided brick phone in case of emergencies. As soon as we lock our phones away that first night (in a wooden box, which you, admittedly, have the key to — but if you’re gonna do it, you may as well do it properly), we both feel like a weight has been lifted.
It’s a feeling that’s heightened the following morning. After spending the night catching up, playing cards, and drinking wine, we wake up to an unbelievably beautiful view. The bed is surrounded by windows, and so we sit for hours, uninterrupted by the usual buzzing of our phones, watching the rain fall and being amazed by the appearance of several deers, who pass just metres away from where we’re lying in bed drinking coffee. It’s the most relaxing morning I’ve had in — and I’m not being hyperbolic — literal years.
With nothing but time stretching ahead of us, we go on a little walk in the surrounding woods, before returning to the cabin to do some yoga, get the fire pit going and properly settle into the wellness portion of our stay: the sauna and cold plunge. The cabin’s guide has handy info about lighting a fire and getting the sauna going — but we’re still somehow crap at both. Eventually, after hours of tending to the fire, I manage to get the sauna to half the temperature it should be. It does the job though, and we brave the ice bath too, running back and forth between both underneath a now-pitch black sky.
Amid all of this, I have noticed the absence of my phone. I’ve reached for it a handful of times: before bed, when I’d usually set my alarms; in the morning, when it’s my first reflex to check it; whenever we have the urge to Google something we’re talking about; every time one of us is left alone; and, yes, just before trips to the loo (soz), which, BTW, is an eco toilet that you never flush — it takes more getting used to than the phones, but dw, it doesn’t smell.
It’s not until the final day — our fateful pub walk — that I realise how reliant I actually am on my phone. Luckily, we’d remembered to look up the pub’s opening times and to book a table before we locked our phones away, but we hadn’t thought to properly scour the map. And so, we wing it with a compass neither of us understand and the map provided by the cabin. You already know how the story ends, but the day is a sort of wake-up call for us. It’s not even about preparing for another situation like this — which, let’s be real, is a rare occurrence — but realising how little confidence we have in our instincts and abilities. It reminds me of an even more absurd panic I’d had months before, when my phone had run out of battery as I got off the tube at Green Park station. I only had to walk to the Cosmo office in Leicester Square (reader, it is a mere 14 minutes away in a straight line), and yet, for an instant, I found myself feeling totally unmoored; as if I would be lost forever. In central London.
Don’t get me wrong: I have, since Unplugged, largely gone back to my old phone habits (though I do make more use of Do Not Disturb now), and I haven’t made any attempt to learn how to read maps or become au fait with compasses. But I am trying to build back my trust in myself. Now, instead of mapping when I know the location of the places I’m coming from and going to, I force myself to use my instincts. It often results in me going a roundabout way (I’m usually following a bus route I remember), but I’ve always got there.
On our last night in Helix, having successfully navigated the (embarrassingly easy) road route back from the pub, we reflect on the serenity we’ve felt over the weekend. For the first time in a long time, we’ve felt totally connected to the present moment. Even on holidays, we’re always researching where to eat and what to do, checking Instagram, and, for our sins, catching up on news from home. But this weekend, we’ve lived exclusively in the here and now. It’s been freeing, calming, and eye-opening.
“Being ‘busy’ used to feel like a badge of honour,” says Hughes. “‘If you’re busy, you’re successful’. But people are realising that rest isn’t a reward for working hard, it’s essential to function properly. The effects of being constantly online are starting to show. Our attention spans are shortening, our dopamine levels are shot, and connection with people and nature have been impacted by screens. There is a collective craving for real experiences and consuming things physically rather than digitally.”
Although at times, I wish I could switch my phone off forever and throw it into the Thames, what I really need — as Helix encourages — is balance. A little Do Not Disturb here; a little directional gut instinct there; and some guilt-free social media time too. A ‘digital detox’, especially if you’re doing it in a picturesque cabin in the woods (with a sauna and cold plunge to boot), is a great way to shake you into creating the habits that can achieve this balance. And if you get lost in a Kent wood along the way, that’s okay too. Don’t panic. You are never more than mere minutes from a main road.
