Fuck the Fast Lane: I Found Peace Through NATURE on a Dead-End Road!

A story about healing, stillness, and the power of stepping into the forest—written for anyone who's ever felt lost, tired, addicted, overworked, or disconnected.

“And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.” — John Muir

Return to the Wild: The Healing Power of Nature, Stillness, and Space

I wasn’t looking for real estate. I wasn’t chasing the next big thing. But one random day at the Eugenia Market (Top of the Rock), a sun-faded corkboard caught my eye. There, buried beneath layers of old flyers and event posters, was a photo of a property for sale—posted by none other than Robert Portious, a local legend in real estate.

The listing? A quiet, 70-acre estate with a Log Chalet straight out of Yellowstone, nestled deep in the folds of the Niagara Escarpment. It sat at the end of a dead-end road with just three other homes nearby. Total seclusion. Total magic.

Now, I don’t usually follow signs like that. Hell, I wasn’t even in the market. And full transparency? I used to hate log homes. I was all about sleek concrete floors, minimalist lines, and that decluttered, modern lifestyle. Why? Because clutter makes me crazy. Mess stresses me out. And log homes? Yuck. Too busy. Too bulky. Too... lumberjack-y.

But that changed.

Four years ago, we bought one, and my opinion flipped. There’s something about being surrounded by those thick, rustic beams that hits differently. No matter the weather or the mood, they feel solid, grounded. They're built to be lived in. Teens can’t punch holes in the drywall (bonus), dogs can tear around without you freaking about the floors, and when a thunderstorm rolls in? The whole place groans and creaks like it’s alive. It’s wild. I fucking love it now.

So, yeah. I called the number.

Nic looked at me like I’d grown a second head. I’m bringing a real estate deal to the table? She thought I was drunk—and I wasn’t even drinking at the time. The truth is, I’ve not been a huge fan of our real estate side of the business for quite a while due to the pressure and conflict it has created in my personal life. It's stressful, chaotic, and honestly, a giant pain in the ass. My dad always said, “Buy land—they’re not making more of it.” Smart guy. But that advice is going in a different blog about business lessons and battle scars.

This piece, though? This one had me curious.

Everything changed when Nicole and I drove up for the showing and walked the trails. Ironically, the place was named "SOLSBURY HILL" - My fave song by Peter Gabriel. That song, according to Peter Gabriel, " It's about being prepared to lose what you have for what you might get … It's about letting go." ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? Serendipity.

Pretty cool tree with the " SOLSBURY HILL" sign.

There was an off-grid hand-built log cabin tucked away at the top of the property surrounded by ravines, rock walls, streams and creeks overlooking the Beaver Valley, ponds, waterfalls, natural fresh water springs emerging from the rock and escarpment shelves, as well as 11 km of manicured hiking, riding and biking trails winding through a managed forest—all part of the space. And I cried when we stood together at the top plateau, looking out across the vastness. I couldn't stop. Just bawling. I was like, what the hell is happening? Get it together, Jesse—you’re losing it in front of a real estate agent like a lost toddler. But I couldn't stop. It was like something broke open inside me. I was having a "Moment" What a pussy I thought to myself but it felt really good.

Nicole thought it was the beauty that overwhelmed me. (Ya right). Beauty Schmooty. Or I was just happy that I could see the snowboard park at our hill we ride at across the valley from my potential new bedroom.... ;) And sure, it was stunning. And yes, I had always dreamed of a view from my house of my stomping grounds and looking at Talisman and The Beaver Valley Ski club, where it all started for me, would be so cool.. It was such a feeling of stoke and full circle. The memories were flowing. I could look out and say this is where it all started, and this is where it ends. But there was more.   Regardless, it made for a lovely moment, and in that moment, there was some closure of the struggle I was going through and the opening of a new door of hope and peace: private peace and a venue to correct my path and be human again.  Somewhere, I could rip it up with the boys, Nic and the dogs and catch up on missed moments. A place that put Nic and me back on track with fun, family, future, forgiveness and freedom. But mostly, there is the potential of time for us all together to do anything but run all day long, putting out fires.

117 TiMES

That’s how many times over the last 6 years I said it. Wrote it. Demanded it, prayed for it, screamed for it and begged for it. What was it that I so desperately needed?  Not much. "All I want is one home, no mortgage and peace." I wasn’t asking for much; I just wanted one home. Not a house. Not an investment. A real home. A place to live the rest of my life. With no mortgage. I am sick of mortgages and anything that has to do with them. I was sick of every time we could slow down and have some breathing room instead of just focusing on what we had and could pay off, we leaned in again for more mortgages and more projects. Ugh. I need peace and a place to wind down this half of my life and prepare for the rest.  I needed a box checked off the perfect spot.  I was starving for it.

Serenity. Calm. Slowness. Something that didn’t move at the speed of burnout. A place to actually heal. A place to feel a different kind of happy—the sustainable kind. The real kind. Not a rush, not a win, not a dopamine hit. Just peace.  A place to rebuild my family and stoke on life.

THE BURNOUT LEDGER:

On one side, I was a Tasmanian devil for so long—chaos, noise, building, racing, loving, laughing, crashing, cackling and burning out, only to rise and do it again. On the other hand, all I really wanted was to turn off the volume. To shut down the grind, the drama, the pressure, and just rest. To catch up on all the things I was missing and were sitting on my life list.

I have lived, seen, and experienced more in TEN years than most people have in a lifetime. And then that ten became thirty—thirty years stacked with stories, mistakes, magic, hilarity, global travel, scars, close calls, huge wins, terrifying moments, rare experiences, some parts in luxury and some impoverished. And with some of the most interesting and accomplished people on the planet.

Too much stimulation. Too much chasing. I was done. Burnt the fuck out! If you took the average hours/days someone worked and grinded based on the status quo norm, I technically should have been retired at the age of 35 based on similar contributions and time committed.  That's 12 years ago. 

And now, looking back, I realize there were so many life moments—epic, unreal times —that should have been legendary. Stories worthy of being repeated for generations. But I forgot most of them. That’s how overloaded I was. Or wasted...That’s how buried I became.

My Rainbow Farting Unicorn…

So yeah. Peace and calamity was my rainbow farting unicorn. A figment of my imagination.. or was it? And maybe I wanted it so badly… because we never really had it.

But it wasn't just that. Honestly? None of that would make me cry. I mean, sure, now that I think about it, maybe actually there was probably something in my eye ;) Yup, I'm sure there was... Probably pink eye from the the unicorns rainbow fart;)… but deep down, I knew: this was where I was going to die—and where I was finally going to start living again before I did.  And finally, I would be happy the way I wanted to be, with space, stability, privacy and the people I loved.

This wasn't just a property. This was permission. Permission to slow down. Permission to heal. Permission to stop running.  That number became symbolic. Over the last 10 years, I kept saying the same thing: I wanted one home with everything I need. No mortgage. Just peace.  Even though I was reeling from all this internal BS and pressure and the daily grind of success-driven ego madness, I still managed to reiterate that message 117 times. Somehow, this place was finally going to be it.  The last / 5th  "forever" home I would have.   And it will be. I'm staying at this place for the rest of my life.  I hope my family stays at it for generations. I have the same style of home as Yellowstone, and I want it to be a legacy location for my family forever. I plan to make sure it can be, regardless of their position in life or income, I want to make sure it stays in the family.   People forget that they can't take their money with them. Just the memories and moments of life lived, so what better way to use what you have left than to make sure the people you love make more memories and have more moments than what would have been in store for them. I would do some sort of offside stipulation and mandate some funny bullshit challenge or stipulation every time they took advantage of what I left behind. My funeral, when it happens, is going to be hilarious. 3-day festival headlined by the Dan Band for sure. Anyhow.... Adhd writing is taking over and shifting off topic, so I have to get back to the theme here.

Lawns, Loss, and Letting Go

We invested in a landscaping company due to my gravitating to nature and property maintenance, and my favourite pastime now is to cut and manicure my lawn and garden. It's become the most enjoyable therapeutic thing for me over the last few years. I'm obsessed with a perfect lawn and well-cut grass. This place has tens of acres of grass to mow. I have three lawn mowers, and to celebrate this home purchase, and the grass to be cut, I bought a Walker mower. That's like the Ferrari of lawnmowers. I was so excited. Nic thought I was an idiot for doing it, but she'll see soon enough. Just for the record, she was the exact same when I got a jet ski, and now that is her favourite thing to do, so I will be two for two if in a year we're just ripping around the yard, cutting grass together, giggling like juvenile idiots. LOL!

For years, I told myself I hated hiking. But deep down, I didn’t—I had amazing memories tied to it. I used to hike all the time - for most of my life up the side of a halfpipe but also with friends and family, even with Nicole, especially with Nicole and our first dog, Giaccomo.

It was something that grounded me. But more recently, as our relationship grew distant and layered with unspoken frustrations, I stopped going completely. Also, we lost Giaccomo. I loved that dog. Nic and I used to do something outdoors with him daily. That fucker could pick a frisbee out of thin air like nobody's business. He was our baby. I was jaded when we lost him. The last moments we had with him were on a hike.

It's weird how the body and mind navigate your happenings. I have experienced some fucked up loss in my life. Huge contributor to the trauma that has affected me. When we experience these certain things that happen are changes or choices that we dont sometimes understand, but going along with them, it reshapes us and our decisions. For instance, we had a friend who died on New Year's Eve years ago in Whistler, and my good pal (older brother figure), Dave, was there with him when it happened. It was one of his best friends. Decades later, he still won't participate in anything for New Year's. He usually stays home by himself. Refuses to celebrate it. We all have demons in one way or another that sometimes we don't want to meet or face.

There are little snippets of trauma that remain with you forever unless properly addressed. Grieving is a process, and there are stages of it that we don't recognize. Grief can be over anything: the loss of a career, a girlfriend, a dog, a human, money, a toy for a kid, a car you loved. Most people have no idea how to acquire closure or grieve in a way that works properly.. I didn't. That affects you forever. It's fascinating, and it's something I have learned about recently. It continues to be something I have to manage daily as I work on self-care and betterment.

A big part of my issues was unaddressed, unresolved, hidden, and compounded grief. So when hiking came up, there were memories, etc., that I didn't want to address, and hiking with the new dogs felt like cheating. But once addressed and managed properly, we can move on with parts of our life that help the healing and the trauma of loss.

THE HEARTBEAT OF A NEW LIFE

This place in Kimberley, Grey Highlands—carved into the ancient limestone spine of the Niagara Escarpment— is the heartbeat of a new life. The decision to buy it was my first real move toward building something sacred in a long time: a space for recovery, reconnection, and reverence. AND NATURE!!! Finally.

And maybe, just maybe, this connection with nature or a venue of everything nature offers is what I’ve been searching for all along. Nature... The trees, elements, quiet and clear skies? What the fuck is going on here Why am I just now gravitating towards nature?

It was nothing special. Kinda boring actually. Wasn't it? Isn't Nature boring?

But then I thought about it...Maybe this is why unconsciously and unknowingly I spent so many years out on the water chasing waves, which shifted to the winter when we moved from Mexico back to Canada, chasing snow in the mountains, and travelling the world. Maybe it’s why every business we have ever built somehow involved nature, landscapes, movement, the outdoors, and terrain. I didn’t consciously plan it that way. But my body, my spirit—they knew even when I didn’t, just like any natural pathway or attraction to betterment and pain management.

THE TRUTH ON THE TRAILS

Nic would ask me to hike with her—almost daily—but I usually only said yes on holidays, anniversaries, or when I was in the doghouse and needed to earn my way out. I knew it made her happy, but I didn't want to do it. But I also did want to do it. I used to feel amazing after I went. Every time, "we should do that more". Then she would ask again, and I would shrug it off and say no.  I was gone so much that all I wanted to do was spend time with her, but I would forget how, and it would be awkward.

The truth is, hiking also meant intimacy. Real conversation. Deep connection. And even though it's all I wanted, it scared me sometimes.  Nicole was in great shape and would hike, talk, and think fast. Meanwhile, I was trying to breathe with bad knees and no best pup for company... I’d be winded and overwhelmed, struggling to keep up with this 105-pound powerhouse who, for some reason, wanted to have deep, progressive conversations halfway up a mountain. And if I didn’t answer fast enough? My silence became agreement. Dangerous territory. "Remember, you agreed to that on the trail last month." Ugh. Did I? I don't know, hun, you have the metabolism of a ninja and are just as sneaky;) Never would see it coming lol!  But seriously. I was nervous about some potential talks that could happen on it. 

Eventually, I turned something I loved into feeling like a trap, so I stopped doing it. In doing so, I cut myself off from one of the purest forms of clarity and healing I had.

I still loved nature. Still loved being outside. Ironically, the things that were booze-free, party-free, screen-free—those were the moments I felt most like myself. I’d sometimes sneak out on solo hikes, just for peace, without Nic knowing. But even that became rare for fear of being assumed or criticized. 

Instead, I got stuck inside—glued to a screen or phone, disconnected, medicating, overworked, and quietly falling apart. The things that once kept me grounded were poisoned by pressure, judgment, and the fear of insufficiency. My sobriety goals and attempts became a measurement. My effort became a scoreboard.

I was trying—really trying—to show up, to connect, to be present and intimate. But after a while, it felt like every real part of me was being reshaped to fit expectations that weren’t mine. And when I couldn’t keep up or live up to them? The message—spoken or not—was clear: “If things go wrong, I won’t stay.”

That landed like a gut punch. And it broke something in me in ways I didn’t fully understand until much later. When the person you love—and who’s supposed to love you back—tells you they won’t stick around if you get sick? That’s not just painful. It’s paralyzing. You start questioning everything. How could I love someone who’d say that? Why would anyone treat illness like a dealbreaker? It made me feel like I was a placeholder… someone who fit a moment, not a life.

And I’ve come to realize—I was struggling with codependency. That sense of constantly trying to earn my worth, to keep the peace, to bend instead of break.

But I wasn’t the only one caught in old patterns. I think we both were. At one point, she said she was “flight, not fight” (I had to Google that the first time I heard it). It felt like a disclaimer at the time—like a pre-loaded parachute in case things got hard. But deep down, I don’t fully believe that either of us is wired to run. We’ve both fought through way too much in life.

Still, those words stuck. And when hiking became the backdrop for “hard talks,” I began walking on eggshells. I didn’t want another deep conversation halfway up a hill when I could barely breathe. So I started avoiding it altogether. I buried it just like I buried a lot of things.

But now? Now I have the dream home—the dreamland. I’m sober. I’m hiking. I’m happy. And I’m finally free from judgment, fear, and the pressure to be someone I’m not. I'm doing what makes me happy for the first time in a long time.

So many times when things were hard, I’d see a smile—maybe excitement, maybe hope, perhaps love—and I’d convince myself that smile meant everything was fine.

That smile? I was loyal to it. I clung to it like a lifeline. I thought that if I sacrificed enough, maybe it would all stay together. I would’ve gladly stayed silent, buried my joy, and given up the very things that brought me peace… just to avoid the risk of being alone or losing my family.

But that silence built up. And over time, it created confusion, mistrust, and discoveries I didn’t know how to process. It shook my trust in almost everything and everyone—including myself.

Some days, I still wonder… did I miss my own flight? Or maybe it's just delayed. 😉

Of course, it takes two to tango. And this reflection? It's just mine. It’s not the full story—just the lens I was looking through then. There are always two sides, and this is how I felt in my state of mind. These internal and external moments shaped my reactions, decisions, and pain. But I also have to hold space for what Nic was going through.

It couldn't have been easy for her either. Living with someone whose moods could shift suddenly—from highs to lows, from inspired and committed to withdrawn or self-destructive—is its own kind of silent suffering. That unpredictability? It’s scary. Torturous even. Watching the person you love flip between connection and distance, laughter and irritability, presence and retreat… wears you down. Nobody wants to live in fear of emotional landmines. Nobody wants to love a ticking time bomb. And I get that now.

She was coping, too, in the only ways she knew how. We both were. Neither of us handled it perfectly. But pain doesn’t need a villain. Sometimes, it’s just two people caught in a storm trying not to drown. I see that now. And I see her. And I can have compassion for both of us.

All I knew was this: I needed nature more than ever. And when it all piled up, when the pressure became too loud to ignore, my eyes drifted to that corkboard. To a place where I could find peace again. I could be myself and happy again, regardless of how the relationship turned out.

And there it was. I was back in the wild, back to nature, back to self-care. I’d found a new path—and this time, I was finally ready to walk it. So I started to get back into it. The research and journey I began caught me up on some interesting things and opportunities.  

Forest Bathing, Ice Buckets, and Healing Tools

So I started to get back into it. And the research and journey I began caught me up on some interesting things and opportunities. I have been through a lot lately. If you read any of the other blog pieces, then you know. But I have a new group of hobbies. I will slow down my head, exercise my heart in the forest and gardens, and advocate for preserving the valley. What better way to find a balance than to create again and work on cool, nature-filled ideas focused on recovery and health.  And here we go.....  

So yeah, when I first heard the term “forest bathing,” I thought it was ridiculous—like some bougie city fad, like cold plunges. I used to scoff: "Cold plunges? Are you kidding me? Try doing ice baths for pain management after breaking your body for your job. Try plunging into a freezing river because you have to, not because it looks good on Instagram." It's funny to see people paying for things you had to do for work and hated. LOL. Has anyone ever had a sprained ankle or broken foot and had to use an "ice bucket"? You must submerge your hurt foot into a bucket of freezing water and ice and keep it there for 20-30 minutes. It's fucking excruciating. Most can’t handle it but as an athlete you have to get better as fast as possible and physical recoveryc/therapy fucking hurts!!!!!!!

But the thing is—those tools, that space, that silence—they work.

Whether we believe in them or not. Whether we call it forest bathing or just going for a damn walk in the woods. Life is full of these tiny pivots, these ancient truths that we write off because we’ve been conditioned to believe healing needs to be complicated. But it doesn’t. Life hacks are everywhere, and I will be going through a series of them. I am investigating hard for a life hack article, and so far, I'm pretty blown away with what I am finding.

It turns out that the thinking brain is usually wrong about what we need. The emotional brain? Conflicted. But the heart? The soul? That’s your compass. That’s your guide. And if you get quiet enough and give yourself the bloody space to listen, it’ll tell you where to go. Like in both ways. It will tell you to go here or go to hell. People sometimes call it "your gut" or a "Gut feeling"—nope, it's a heart feeling, I think.

That intro section became a longer back story with more blah blah blah and more personal than I was planning, but holding back on happenings and feelings defeats the purpose of this blog. So Nature.......

Why Nature Heals: What the Science Tells Us

We talk about getting away. Unplugging. Taking a break. But what are we really escaping from? What are we trying to get back to?

Nature is not a luxury. It's a biological necessity. And not just in a poetic way—this is hard ass science.

Our nervous systems evolved over thousands of years in direct relationship with the natural world. Sunlight, green space, water, wildlife, seasonal rhythms—these were our original operating systems. But in the last century, we've upgraded to concrete, screens, and deadlines, and our biology hasn't caught up.

We live in a mismatch: designed for wilderness, trapped in Wi-Fi. The results? Skyrocketing stress, anxiety, inflammation, attention disorders, sleep disruption, chronic fatigue, and burnout.

The good news? Nature still works fast.

The Data is In:

• Forest bathing (Shinrin-yoku), developed in Japan in the 1980s, lowers cortisol, reduces blood pressure, and boosts the immune system's natural killer (NK) cell activity. Walking in the woods can elevate your immune function for up to 7 days.

• A Stanford University study found that walking in nature decreases activity in the part of the brain associated with rumination—those looping negative thoughts that fuel depression.

• Natural soundscapes (water, birdsong, wind) activate the parasympathetic nervous system, which regulates rest, digestion, and recovery. Just listening to these sounds reduces heart rate and muscle tension.

• Spending 20 minutes in nature daily is associated with improved mood, lowered anxiety, and measurable improvements in cognitive function and memory. It's funny because often, if invited, we say to ourselves or others that we are "too tired," "too late," or "too busy" to go. Idiots. It's none of those. It is choices and priorities mixed with a lack of routine and boundaries.

• Looking at photos of trees, landscapes, or even indoor plants triggers brain activity linked to empathy and emotional regulation. But being physically present in nature amplifies this effect significantly.

  
  

  I have always been a big fan of plants in the house. -Now I know why. I also now know why I get so upset when a plant dies on me, why I love giving and getting flowers and why I often buy bouquets for myself. Nicole brought me a bird of paradise a few days into us dating, and it floored me. I still think about how happy that made me to get flowers. That was a one-time only offer, but I still think of it often, and there is no time I dont grab a bouquet on my way out of the grocery store. Based on my actions, flowers as gifts have become a negative trigger for her, so I buy them for myself all the time.... and for her. The trigger is based on the circumstances. LOL;)

  
  

We’re not just talking about “feeling better.” We’re talking about rewiring the brain, strengthening the immune system, resetting the nervous system, and regulating the endocrine system. Nature doesn’t just feel good. It is good.

Tools, Proof, and Practical Help

I Wasn’t a Nature Guy—Let’s Be Honest

I wasn’t a nature person—quite the opposite. Despite doing so many things that were “hippyish,” I never saw myself that way. My dad was known as Hippie Jim—he had this whole tribe of left-living, free-balling, loose and happy humans around him. It was a vibe, but it wasn’t mine.

I was the rebel. The disrupter. Action sports. Metallica. Adrenaline. Intensity. Control. That was more my lane.

My older sister? Full-blown hippie. But she’s rad. The type of human who smiles at everything and everyone. She doesn’t care about judgment, opinions, or negativity. She was what they called a Deadhead—followed the Grateful Dead, did that whole circle dancing thing, wore tie-dye like armour. I loved her vibe but I couldn’t stand the band. When Jerry Garcia died, I actually said, “Yeah—grateful that he’s dead and now so is the band.” What an asshole move. But that was me. Or at least the version of me I thought I needed to be.

Deep down? Apparently, I’ve always loved nature and peace. Loved stillness. I didn’t know it yet. Or maybe I was too busy fighting the label to realize I was already living the lifestyle in my own rugged, chaotic, road-scarred way.

Living with Undiagnosed ADHD: Nature as a Lifeline

I wasn’t correctly diagnosed with ADHD until later in life - Like two months ago—almost too late, in some ways. For decades, I was functioning in survival mode, chasing stimulation, thriving in chaos, constantly moving, building, crashing, rebuilding. Looking back, it’s obvious. The signs were always there. Everyone said it; I didn't disagree. But there were no labels, meds, or interventions—just instinct.

That instinct drove me into the wild—into snow, surf, forests, event production chaos, and the unknown.

Adventure. Sports. Nature. Travel. Movement. These weren’t just passions—they were medicine. The only kind I had.

Doctors have told me since: if I hadn’t naturally gravitated toward those environments—if I hadn’t lived a life filled with challenge, motion, and exposure to nature—my outcome could have been drastically worse. All that time outdoors, the hard crashes, the deep breath at the top of a mountain… that was my subconscious adapting. My brain sought the regulation it couldn’t get from society, school, or stillness. And without knowing it, I gave myself exactly what I needed.

Even on my darkest days, nature gave me a little bit of balance—enough clarity to keep building and showing up, enough release to not tip over the edge.

So if you're like me—late-diagnosed, misunderstood, overstimulated—know this: you're not broken. And nature might be the first place you feel whole.

"Nature is not a place to visit. It is home." — Gary Snyder

If you're curious about tracking your time in nature, understanding its effect on your body, or building healthy outdoor habits, there are tools to help:

• Apps & Trackers:

  • NatureQuant – Measures your "NatureScore" based on GPS and exposure to green space.

  • AllTrails – Discover trails anywhere, track hikes, and stay inspired.

  • Insight Timer / Headspace is for guided nature meditations and grounding exercises.

  • Calm – Features nature soundscapes and breathing routines to simulate forest benefits. (This app is fantastic, and for $99.00, it is one of the best tools I have for health.  Check it out and do it. It's a life changer. You literally will feel better every day that you use it. 

    
    

• Real-World Example:

  • In a study by the University of Michigan, participants who spent just 50 minutes walking in an arboretum showed significantly higher memory performance and attention span than those walking in a city environment.

  • Finland’s public health system now prescribes time in nature as a recognized treatment for anxiety and mild depression.

    
    
  
  

  “Time in nature is not leisure time; it’s an essential investment in your health.” — Dr. Qing Li, author of Forest Bathing.

  
  

What Nature Gives You (for Free):

• Sight: The fractal patterns of trees, waves, and leaves reduce cognitive fatigue and increase creativity.

• Sound: Natural soundscapes lower your heart rate and increase alpha brain waves (linked to calm focus).

• Smell: Phytoncides—essential oils released by trees—boost white blood cell count and reduce inflammation.

• Touch: Walking barefoot on earth (grounding) has anti-inflammatory effects and improves sleep.

• Spirit: Nature doesn't interrupt. It invites. It listens. It lets you come undone and put yourself back together.

The Most Underrated Outdoor Activity:

And the most underrated outdoor activity of all?

Doing nothing. Sitting in silence. Letting nature do the work.

Because healing isn’t just about movement, it’s about space. Sound: Natural soundscapes lower your heart rate and increase alpha brain waves (linked to calm focus). Why “Doing Nothing” Outside Is a Power Move:

• Nervous system reset: When you finally stop doing, your body shifts from fight-or-flight into rest-and-repair mode.

• Mental clarity: Stillness lets your thoughts settle. It’s like shaking a snow globe and letting the flakes drop.

• Heightened senses: When you’re not distracted by a hike, paddle, or photo op, you start noticing everything—birdsong, wind shifts, squirrel drama.

• Real presence: No watch-checking. No cardio goals. Just you and the moment.

• Deep connection: Sometimes the best way to feel alive is to stop chasing life and just breathe it in.

People underestimate this because “doing nothing” feels lazy. But in the outdoors, it’s actually primal, mindful, and healing as hell.

The Best of the Outdoors: Free to Bucket List

Whether you’re looking to heal, challenge yourself, or reconnect, the outdoors has something for everyone.

Top Places in Canada:

• Banff National Park, Alberta – Iconic mountain peaks, turquoise lakes, and wildlife everywhere.

• Pacific Rim National Park, BC – Rainforests, coastal trails, and spiritual beach walks.

• Algonquin Park, Ontario – Canoeing, moose sightings, and solitude in abundance.

• **Bruce Trail, Ontario – Canada’s oldest and longest marked footpath, stretching along the Niagara Escarpment (and yes, ironically, runs right through the top of our property). 

• Cape Breton Highlands, Nova Scotia – Stunning coastal drives and highland hikes.

  
  

Top Places in the U.S.:

• Yosemite, California – Waterfalls, giant sequoias, and epic granite cliffs.

• Zion and Bryce, Utah – Red rock formations and otherworldly landscapes.

• Smoky Mountains, Tennessee/North Carolina – Misty peaks and historic trails.

• Appalachian Trail (2,190 miles) – Long-distance trek for soul seekers.

• Olympic National Park, Washington – Diverse ecosystems: mountains, coast, and rainforest.

  
  

Low-Cost or Free Outdoor Escapes:

• Urban parks and ravines (Toronto’s Don Valley, Vancouver’s Stanley Park)

• Crown land camping in Ontario – Wild and free, just you and the trees.

• Community gardens or conservation areas

• Walking/hiking trails in small towns – Often unknown, always healing.

  
  

Outdoor Activities & Their Benefits:

• Hiking: Cardio, strength, mental clarity. Burns 400–700+ calories/hour.

• Paddling: Engages core, calms the nervous system with rhythmic motion.

• Trail running: Builds explosive power and forces presence.

• Biking: Low impact, improves balance, and is great for group connection.

• Rock climbing: A mental and physical challenge that builds trust and resilience.

• Swimming in wild water: Boosts circulation, immunity, and emotional release.

• Birdwatching: Enhances patience, quiets the mind.

• Camping: Forces a slowdown, promotes deeper sleep cycles.

• Fisbee Golf: This is a hidden treasure, and my cousin Alex is a huge advocate. We are also getting into it, and just having one cage on your property is hours of fun with the family and kids.

• Snowboarding? Well..........

Also: Real Benefits of Backyard Games (aka Sanity-Saving Shenanigans):

1. Instant Stress Relief

Whipping a frisbee, tossing cornhole bags, or slapping a ping-pong ball? It’s low-stakes, low-pressure fun that shuts your brain off from the grind.

2. Natural Movement Without the “Workout”

You’re bending, laughing, sprinting, lunging… but you’re not thinking about cardio. Your body loves it, and it doesn’t feel like punishment.

3. Social Connection That Doesn’t Suck

Games create laughter, trash talk, bonding, and that rare thing we’ve all missed—spontaneous joy. It’s a reset button for couples, kids, friends, and strangers.

4. Kills Screen Time (Without a Fight)

It’s one of the few ways to trick everyone into putting down their phones, because competition and fun are better dopamine hits.

5. Boosts Creativity & Problem Solving

Yes, even games like ladder toss and frisbee golf get your brain thinking differently. Reaction time, strategy, adaptation—it’s good stuff.

6. Accessible Therapy

You don’t need a mountain or $5K in gear. A few beanbags or a damn stick and rock can do the job. It’s healing for the soul and dirt cheap.

7. Family Memories > Fancy Toys

Your kids probably won’t remember what you bought them. They will remember when you whooped them in bocce, then slipped in the mud laughing.

Want me to write a badass mini-section about this for your article? I’ll drop it in with humor, insight, and your tone.

DOPE SPOTS:

Some of the most beautiful places I have ever seen in the world for Nature and landscape. ( no particular order)

New Zealand

Argentina

Australia

Parts of the USA

China

Thailand

Japan

Mexico

Obviously Canada - I am biased to here and Nic is biased to BC;)

Russia

Dubai - Just kidding but takes the cake for man amde shit.

Nature and Youth: Raising a Generation Outdoors (Before It's Too Late)

Let’s talk about kids. About the next generation. About what we’re doing to them without even realizing it.

We used to say: "Get outside and don’t come back until the streetlights are on." That was the baseline. Didn’t matter the weather. Rain or shine, snow or sun—you were out. You got your hands dirty. You fell, bled, healed, and climbed again.

Now? Kids spend an average of 7–9 hours daily** on screens**. The recommended max? Two hours. And anything above that is scientifically proven to lead to dopamine dependency, attention issues, mood swings, and anxiety.

We’re literally addicting our children to artificial stimulation before their brains are even fully developed. BUT DONT FORGET FUCKING ADDICTION!!!!!!!! What do you think they are going to pivot to as dopamine addicts?

Did you know the brain continues developing until the age of 24? That’s two and a half decades of vulnerability—where the wiring for resilience, identity, focus, and emotional regulation are still under construction. And we’re flooding those wires with digital chaos.

Timeline of Outdoor Decline & Mental Health Rise:

• 1970s–1980s: Unstructured play dominated childhood. PE classes were mandatory. Kids walked to school. ADHD was almost unheard of.

• 1990s: Video games entered homes. After-school TV hours grew. Obesity began its climb. Screen time crept up, but it was still balanced with play.

• 2000s: The Internet becomes a household standard. Phones and computers replace outdoor time. Rise in anxiety and behavioural issues.

• 2010s–Now: Smartphones explode. TikTok replaces tree climbing. Depression, suicide, and obesity rates in youth reach record highs.

This isn’t a coincidence. This is a crisis.

Correlations:

• Youth obesity has tripled since 1980.

• Anxiety and depression in teens increased by over 70% in the last 25 years.

• Suicide rates for ages 10–24 are the highest they’ve been in recorded history.

• Nature time for kids has dropped by more than 50% since the '70s.

  
  

And let’s be real...

We’re not just letting it happen. We’re feeding it.

Phones have become the new babysitter. TikTok is their therapist. YouTube is their adventure guide.

And somewhere along the way, we traded shared experiences for screen time. The backyard became a background. We got busy. They got lost. We handed over real life for something curated, and now we're wondering why no one feels real anymore. We hand them screens to get work done or just get a moment of peace. We tell ourselves we’re too busy, too tired, too overwhelmed—and we are.

But here’s the truth:

We’ve outsourced parenting to pixels.

We used to worry about kids staying out too late. Now we worry they never leave the house.

Let’s laugh a little too:

• "When I was a kid, the only screen time I got was from looking through a window because I was grounded."

• "We used to ride bikes without helmets, drink from hoses, and climb trees. Now, kids are out of breath walking to the fridge."

• "My kid asked me what ‘outside’ was the other day. I told him it’s like virtual reality, but you feel stuff."

But behind every joke is a warning.

We’re raising kids in captivity. And the cage is built of good intentions, convenience, and fear.

How do we fix it?

• Schedule daily outdoor time as non-negotiable.

• Make unstructured play sacred again.

• Teach risk, resilience, and real-world skills—not just screen navigation.

• Create phone-free zones and device-free days.

• Bring back family hikes, picnics, chores, and challenges.

Because if we don’t give them the wild, the world will give them noise.

And our kids deserve more than a glowing rectangle and an algorithmic babysitter.

The Retreat Vision: Healing Starts Here

We've walked the trails. We've sat in the silence. We've cried, laughed, bled, and exhaled in this space. Now, it’s time to share it.

Nicole and I bought this property not just for ourselves, but for people like us. The ones burned out from life. People who are chasing peace often find it feels like a mirage. Couples looking to reconnect, individuals looking to restart, or just those ready to unplug, move their body, and be surrounded by something real again.

This retreat isn't about fancy robes and spa treatments. Well, we also have that, and I will write a blog on saunas soon. But it's bonfires. Forest walks. Real talks. Deep breathing. Cold plunges. Nature meditations. Group meals. Storytelling. Connection. It's our goal that when we sell 365 and most of our real estate businesses, we focus our energy on a place to host some amazing moments. We want to have a connection property where we can work as much or as little as we like. This place can keep us busy. Lots of options and opportunities, and as I navigate through this journey of recovery and re-birth, I wish I had known of a place like this for so many moments when I, she or all of us needed a place to heal and reset. What we can do here is endless, and we agree that surrounding ourselves in a space of health and positivity ensures the access we need as well and will take place by default.

It's where you trade Wi-Fi for wild air. Deadlines for slow time. And pressure for presence.

There will be space for:

• Guided silent walks

• Digital detox weekends

• Couples reconnection retreats

• Solo sabbatical stays in the off-grid cabin

• Community fire circles

  
  

All with the goal of getting back to who you are when the noise is gone.

And yeah—we'll have a bit of cheek, a few swear words, some music under the stars, and a place where you’re allowed to just be. Raw, open, real.

Whether you're a recovering overachiever, a recovering anything now that I think about it... or a late-diagnosed ADHD warrior, a tired parent, or someone who needs to hit the reset button... you're invited.

Let’s build this together. I'll get around to it when I have free time. ;)