What Happened When I Actually Took the Doctor’s Advice
No passport, no packing, minimal preparatory hassle. Journalist and Podcaster Hannah MacInnes finds the perfect headspace, stillness and true escape she needs and all in two days a mere two hours drive from home
When was the last time you took a holiday?
This was the question from the GP I’d gone to see about a relatively minor ailment that I’d turned into something very major in my worry-prone mind. I found myself rolling out my usual freelance-life excuses: no time, too expensive, too busy... and honestly, do I even want one? I love my work. It’s creative, fulfilling. I get to read brilliant books, interview authors and all sorts of exciting people, and call it... work.
But the GP wasn’t having any of it. Rather sternly, and with a degree of impatience at having to state something so obvious, she told me to take a holiday.
That was my prescription. In fact, she said I should be taking four a year. I think the last one I had was over a year ago. Not ideal then.
My Own Private Cabin in Nature
Despite my litany of excuses, to her and to myself, my body and mind knew she was entirely right. They were longing for a change of scene. For headspace. Things I know are essential for reigniting creativity — to recharge, rejuvenate, relax, reset.
But all these highly desirable R words are things you might associate with a week at a spa or a high-end retreat. Wonderful, absolutely, but unrealistic for many, given time, costs and commitments.
Plus — and maybe this really is what it comes down to for me — packing and planning, booking, transport, and all the other stresses that come with a holiday... sometimes it just feels easier not to bother.
Enter the genius that is Unyoked: minimum hassle, minimum prep time, maximum benefit. It really is like they bottled up the easy-fix, 'switch off' elixir.
My two Unyoked adventures have been only a short journey from my front door. A two-hour drive in a September heatwave to Elin, my cabin nestled in the otherworldly beauty of the Black Mountains, with its wild horses, vast skies and rolling hills. And this time, my stormy January hideaway — just under an hour to Salisbury’s Cranborne Chase National Landscape, where my home for two days is Clove. I assumed this was too close to give that sense of real escape I crave. And yet, on both occasions, the moment I arrive I really do feel miles from anywhere. In the best possible way.
Getting Unyoked
On the morning before I set off for Clove, I read my email from Team Unyoked: this is the “chance to shed the stress of daily life,” they tell me. “When you arrive, just sit down on the bed and relax.” Wishful thinking, I muse, given my racing heart, whirring mind, and to-do list that seems only to grow every day. But it’s uncanny. It’s precisely what it is and what I do.
Having driven along a muddy, precarious track and staggered with my wheelbarrow of luggage up a steep grassy hill, storm clouds gathering overhead, rain starting to fall — the immense and intense relief I feel seeing Clove sparkling under a menacing but resplendent dusk sky is enormous.
It’s so easy to say things like this, but all the stress really does start to melt away. I let out a loud, somewhat animalistic whoop.
Quickly, the to-do list becomes elemental. I need to learn how to chop kindling before it gets dark, which I manage — just — in a howling gale. Then it’s time to light the wood-burning stove. The first attempt fails. A brief panic ensues. But eventually, the flames catch and soon the cabin begins to fill with warmth.
The Ritual of Doing Less
I make tea and sit, warming my socks, watching the fire crackle as rain lashes the windows and the wind shakes the cabin. It’s so simple and yet so instantly calming.
My normal need for regular outdoor activity is softened by the feel and perfect design of the cabins: the simple wooden interior, the enormous picture windows surrounding the deep green linen-covered bed that looks out over miles of hills and trees. You feel you are outside. In fact, at times, this window onto nature feels more wholesome and all-encompassing than actually being outside. Don’t ask me how. You’ll just have to take my word for it. Or find out when you get there.
Tea turns to red wine as the fire crackles and the cabin grows cosier. The next morning, it’s tea again, then ceremonial cacao. I sip and stare, watching the branches wave, the rain fall, the birds swoop.
Mid-morning, I follow a map and head out into the torrential rain for a 15-kilometre run, asking for directions to avoid using my phone.
Back at the cabin — showered, invigorated and bundled in all my clothes (too early to light the fire again) — I move onto coffee. I grind my ‘Energiser’ beans (which you find in a labelled tin in the cabin along with teas, olive oil, salt and pepper), pour using the ingenious pourover contraption also provided, and return to my new favourite ritual: sip and stare.
Sip, stare and scribble: writing my thoughts down in my journal forms part of this ritual too — making future pledges and plans, landing on career ideas and projects.
This is exactly the headspace I came for.
Design That Disappears Into Nature
This “switch off” elixir that Unyoked has so nailed comes from a magic concoction of their wild, remote locations (even when not that remote, you still feel entirely in the wilderness) plus the views and landscapes, which make you feel alive and able to really breathe. I’m aware of clichés falling onto the page, but they are all the truth.
There is something mesmerising about watching the movement of the intricate tree branches through the large panes of the picture windows. You notice every colour and hue of the skies as they change throughout the day, magical and majestic in every light — though a bright pink morning sky and the orange as the sun goes down are especially enchanting.
The interiors are a calming blend of minimal design and cosy comfort. The shower room, with slate-grey walls and a bronze shower head, feels especially luxurious — especially when you’re standing beneath it looking out over rolling hills. The kitchen is well-stocked and earthy in feel, and somehow every drink tastes better from the deep green enamel cups.
The thick-mattressed, futon-style beds, covered in deep green linen throws, are gloriously comfy, and the small table and benches are perfect for writing and munching. The wood-burning fires complete the whole thing.
Turning Off to Tune In
Another reason my mind clears, thoughts flow, and my heart slows is because I’ve switched off my phone. I try to do this whenever I go away, though many people seem to find it baffling. It can feel disorienting at first — and slightly impractical, since most instructions are only in the app, even if offline — but one day I’ll get organised and print everything ahead of time.
With the phone off, everything slows down and feels quieter and somehow more spacious within the confines of your mind. I never want to switch it back on when I leave. No phone helps too with entering into ‘unstructured time’, as the Unyoked guide advocates: a sort of healthy boredom that frees you to do all that sitting and staring without feeling compelled to do things the world beyond the cabin would consider “productive”.
Productivity is reframed here. Chopping wood, lighting fires, grinding coffee beans, cooking over the stove, exploring your surroundings without getting lost* — these all feel immensely rewarding and fulfilling.
Back to the Busyness
I hadn’t properly considered until now quite why they call it ‘Unyoked’. But as I type and think about being freed from a yoke or harness, disjoined, it becomes crystal clear.
Ironically, back in a fully yoked world, I struggled to find the headspace to write this. More than a month had passed since my stay, and life swept me straight back into its chaos.
I recall now that the moment I entered Clove and my shoulders fell and mind started unwinding and clearing, I determined upon ‘Unyoking’ myself this way at least once a month. I’m glad this memory has returned. I’m redetermined.
*Actually, may I strongly advise getting lost. In Wales I set out for an intended two-and-a-half-hour hike, armed with my map. Six hours walking, two hitchhikes, and one (okay maybe two or three) moments of panic later, I arrived back at the cabin. Completely exhausted, starving (having eaten only delicious apples from trees along the way), but invigorated — and with a mental list of career and life goals set.