Our campsite at Wolfe’s Neck Center for Agriculture and the Environment. We set up in steady rain. When we were finished the sun came out, along with this rainbow. (No, this is not AI!)
In early September, 2023, my husband, Cortland, and I spent a weekend at a U.S. Forest Service campground near the Continental Divide in Colorado. We sandwiched our 17-foot trailer into a beautiful spot in the wilderness, delighted that it was small enough to fit.
We were at 10,000 feet. It was chilly at this altitude. The silence was interrupted only by the chirrups of chipmunks and the occasional bird. We felt autumn on the horizon, full of possibility. As is always true for both of us, getting out into the woods and mountains filled our souls. It allowed us to take deep breaths — physically as well as metaphorically.
The feeling of possibility was infectious. Cortland was planning to retire from his corporate job the following summer. My five-year-old podcast production company was still growing, but I felt rumblings of concern about the industry. Networks were canceling award-winning shows. Thousands of audio professionals had already been laid off, with more to come.
Drinking coffee in our little fiberglass Casita, we began asking big questions about the future.
What possibilities would retirement open up for Cortland? What new adventures did we want to have? What purposes might there be to embrace, purposes neither of us had yet imagined? And what would his retirement, combined with the changing fortunes of podcasting and journalism, mean for my career?
That morning, we hatched a plan: Could we live and work out of a tiny trailer for two months the following summer? It would be an adventure, a chance to live outdoors, to see old friends and family, and to live simply for a little while.
Over the next several months, Cortland sold our aging Casita, bought a newer and slightly larger camper, and asked himself lots of questions about what he wanted the next season of life to look and feel like.
I, too, was about to encounter several inflection points of my own. As 2024 wore on, the podcast industry worsened. By early spring, I was wondering: Did I want to keep my production business going? Did I even enjoy it any more? And if not, what would be next?
I was also facing a true empty nest. My son, who suffers from mental health issues, lived with us sporadically. He moved out permanently in May. I laid off my best and dearest employee, and told clients that I was pulling back from large projects to spend time teaching, consulting, and writing. I put my own podcast, Sound Judgment, on hiatus. An insomniac, I tried unsuccessfully to sleep.
In June, I spent a week at MEA (the Modern Elder Academy) exploring “finding my purpose” in a cohort of 25 other so-called midlife seekers ranging in age from 25 to 73. When I returned from Mexico, Cortland had reframed our trip from an adventure to a voyage of discovery.
Could we use this trip to expand our ideas about what our best lives will be in the future?
Farsighted is a chronicle of this voyage. Here, we explore questions from the practical to the philosophical: What is it like to live in only 150 square feet, with our dog, for so long? Will it test our marriage? How possible is it to work on the road? What unexpected sights and people will we encounter? What are people across the country thinking and feeling at this particularly challenging time in our country’s history?
And ultimately, how might this journey change us?
Farsighted is the story of a late-life love affair. It’s the story of traveling to ordinary and extraordinary places with curiosity, observation, and awe. It’s a wondering, out loud, about what the third season of life can look and feel like when all possibilities are on the table.
If you are at a crossroads, join us! Share your inflection points. Let’s navigate the adventure of life together.
— Elaine Appleton Grant and Cortland Wolfe