My husband and I went camping to Rainbow Falls State Park from Wednesday to Saturday last week. It’s one of our “retirement booking” weekends, where we arrive during the week and leave before the long weekend to, as my husband put it, “let those who actually need the weekend have it.”

This was a new campground for us, though apparently I used to camp there as a child. In the days when my family had a tent trailer and it came with the parents who set up the whole conglomerate. Which is why, as adults, my husband’s and my foray into tent trailer territory lasted only one summer.

I never know when we go to a new campground if we’ll be off the grid or not. As in, no cell phone service. In general I don’t mind being out of contact with the world, it makes those who depend on me for their daily state of being, figure things out for themselves. But it happened so abruptly it unnerved me.

I was in contact with my daughters when we stopped at Cabela’s outdoor sporting goods about an hour before we reached our destination. Then we had cell service down the highway toward the campground. As we went into the last road leading to the campground we dropped right off the edge. Normally, when I know we won’t be reachable, I’ll let my kids and mom know right before we lose it. This time, I was unprepared. I felt like we were in that episode of the Twilight Zone, where a bank teller, who just wants people to leave him alone so he can read books, goes into a bank vault to hide and read books. A nuclear disaster happens and he’s left completely alone. But at least he can read books without being bothered. We suddenly were free to camp, eat, and sit by the fire without being bothered, with no one else’s problems to solve at least for the time we’re camping.

We didn’t tow an extra vehicle behind our RV because we didn’t plan on going anywhere we couldn’t walk. There was no way I was going to suggest we pull back onto the road just so I could tell everyone we had arrived. I had hugged my daughters goodbye before they went off to school, we had a flurry of pictures and comments about Cabela’s on our drive down, I was sure they figured we were OK. And though I knew everyone at home was probably fine, my mind ran away with my good senses and disaster was lurking behind every scenario when I thought of them. You know, just the usual death, destruction, and mayhem.

What did we ever do before cell phones? How did we rest our minds when people went on trips out of contact for hours or days on end? That used to be my life. I tromped all over the state when I was single without calling anyone. I traveled Europe with nary a Facebook post. I didn’t have a cell phone until my daughters were toddlers. I wish I had appreciated the serenity of it all while it was happening.

I quelled the urge to obsess over it. I knew my kids assumed we just dropped off the grid. My mother may not have been pleased, nor placated by my daughters’ assurances of our well-being, but I was determined not to let any anxiety my family may have ruin my relaxing week.

As we headed home, my phone started pinging all that I missed. Sigh. Honestly, I think everyone should enjoy the solitude of being off the grid once in awhile.

Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can read more of her writing on her website livingwithgleigh.com, on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh by Gretchen Leigh.”. Her column is available every week at maplevalleyreporter.com under the Life section.