If I had a chance to be magically transported back to the American frontier in the 1880s, I鈥檇 leap enthusiastically into the back of the covered wagon. At least for a temporary stretch, I鈥檇 welcome life in simpler times. There are aspects of our modern day, especially as a parent, that I wonder would be improved by going back in time.

A new reality TV show, 鈥淏ack to the Frontier,鈥� recreates these exact living conditions for a group of modern participants鈥攆amilies who agree to leave the 21st century behind to live like our ancestors did on the edge of civilization. Three families are challenged to live eight weeks on grassy plains near Calgary, Alberta, as 1880s homesteaders would. That means no running water, electricity, technology, or supermarkets.

Produced by by Magnolia Network co-owners Chip and Joanna Gaines, the home improvement power couple from 鈥淔ixer Upper,” the new series also streams on HBO Max. As a mother of two young kids who at times wishes we lived before the advent of the internet, I am particularly interested in how going back to the land and zero screen time affects parenting. So I phoned up two of the participants鈥攑artners Stacey and Joaquin Loper鈥攖o discuss the challenges and lessons learned from this daring social experiment they agreed to.

When an invitation to the show arrived in Stacey Loper鈥檚 inbox, her first thought was that her husband would love to participate.听 Joaquin, she said, has sought to teach the couple鈥檚 two boys about the history of Black Americans, and about the lives that their ancestors experienced. So, to have the opportunity to show the children seemed invaluable.

For Stacey, it was a tougher sell. 鈥淚’m not an 鈥榦utside girl鈥� at all,鈥� she told me when I spoke to the couple about their time on the show. Despite the transparency of the production staff, Stacey said she was completely unprepared for the experience when she first set foot in the cabin. All three families faced specific challenges with their shelter鈥攖o simulate life on the frontier鈥攁nd the Loper鈥檚 home was missing a wall.

鈥淚 set myself up for failure,鈥� Stacey said. 鈥淚 wouldn’t allow my mind to wrap around that this was truly the life I was about to live for the next eight weeks.鈥� While Joaquin felt prepared鈥�he鈥檚 a veteran of the U.S. Air Force, and a dedicated outdoorsman鈥攈e was surprised by an unforeseen struggle.鈥淚 wasn’t prepared for how unprepared she was,鈥� he says, laughing.

The Lopers live in a five-bedroom, four-and-a-half bath home in Alabama, and both Stacey and Joaquin are grief and marriage recovery counselors. Their boys, Landen and Maddox, are 15 and 12, respectively. For the first half of 听the show, the family brought along their secret weapon: Joaquin鈥檚 mother, Shirley, who was raised on a farm in the South.

Even with the initial help from Shirley, there were hurdles to overcome, mostly for Stacey, who says she doesn鈥檛 even like grass鈥�”The grass was way too high. It came up to my chest!鈥� she told me.

The family banded together and experienced something that many modern-day families could benefit from. By stripping away their everyday conveniences such as supermarkets and technology, relying on livestock and their own gardening skills for food, and learning to create their own joy and entertainment, they gained an appreciation for the small things.

鈥淚 wasn鈥檛 a vegetable girl before the frontier,鈥� says Stacey, 鈥淏ut, baby, I ate so many cucumbers, tomatoes, and carrots.鈥� Now when Stacey goes to the grocery store she sees these vegetables as a gift from nature and the produce aisle is one of her first stops.

From Screens to Streams: Refocusing in Nature听

On the frontier their kids were using their surroundings to find fun, like skipping rocks in the nearby stream. 鈥淥ne of the most beautiful things for me to see my kids do was run around with sticks playing cops and robbers,鈥� says Joaquin. 鈥淭hey were using their imagination instead of a screen, and building images in their mind instead of on the screen.鈥� For Stacey, one of her fondest memories of their time on the frontier was when her boys created a volleyball net with two carpenter horses and some planks, resulting in hours of fun with the neighboring contestants鈥� boys.

Even before arriving on the frontier, Joaquin and Stacey always set ground rules for screen time. Their two kids were required to go outside for a few hours and read books together. After filming the show, the Lopers have mandated time for the family to converse鈥攑eriods when the phones must be turned off. 鈥淭hat time without screens shows how their creativity and their imagination work as well鈥攖hey’re not overloaded with all of this stuff on their phone or all this stuff on their tablets,鈥� says Joaquin.

My husband and I are no strangers to the lure of kids and technology. While our 6 and 10-year-olds don鈥檛 yet have cell phones, they have iPad and video games. We鈥檝e set limits on how much time they can spend with these things, but there鈥檚 no doubt that even limited use has its downfalls. I fear that with the drug of screen time they鈥檝e lost the ability to see the world, use their imagination, and just simply be present in the moment.

The Loper children weren鈥檛 the only ones who learned to find joy in the simple things. Both Joaquin and Stacey didn鈥檛 grow up in wealthy homes, and were constantly 鈥渓ooking to see what other people had, or what we thought we wanted or needed,鈥� says Joaquin. In modern day life, Stacey tells me that she was completely consumed by a lifestyle of materialism.

In the first episode, Stacey breaks into tears when her children are forced to eat canned meat for their first meal. The meal was reminiscent of her own childhood and reminded her of the efforts she鈥檚 taken to prevent her kids from experiencing poverty. 鈥淚 feel so insufficient,鈥� she tells the camera.

Fast forward to present day, back home and their frontier days behind them, Stacey can see the beauty in all of it. 鈥淚’ll tell you, living as an 1880s wife and mom, I felt the richest that I’ve ever had in my life.鈥�

Homesteading: A Growing Modern Movement

There鈥檚 a growing group of modern-day families choosing to leave the materialistic world behind and become homesteaders鈥攐ff the land and completely self-sufficient. YouTube channels like have close to one million followers, and today鈥檚 homesteaders are creating popular Instagram accounts that teach people how to ,, and even .

Although their eight weeks on the frontier didn鈥檛 convert the Lopers into homesteaders, it still taught them important lessons. Life鈥檚 joys aren鈥檛 about having the biggest house or getting the newest iPhone. It鈥檚 about their family; open communication, love, and finding strength and resilience in each other. It鈥檚 about sleeping in a warm bed and not seeing icicles forming on their frontier cabin ceiling. And of course, the never-ending appreciation for running water.

As a mother, always striving to pass my love of nature onto my own children, the show confirmed my fears of the effects of too much screen time and the importance of seeing the world in real time. Of course, it鈥檚 perfectly okay for us to enjoy a bit of simulated life on TV or online, but I鈥檒l be taking my kids on more walks in the woods and teaching them the joys of finding entertainment outside.

Back to the Frontier airs Thursday on the Magnolia Network 8pm ET, and streams on HBO Max.

_____________________________________________________

Megan Margulies was born and raised in New York City, but harbors a deep love for nature. She splits her time between Boston and a cabin in Vermont, where she tries to put to use.

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Woniya Thibeault, the first female winner of the History Channel鈥檚 reality competition show Alone, always wanted to be a mother. But after she turned 46, having already experienced a miscarriage in her late thirties, she accepted听the possibility that she may never have children. In June of last year, Thibeault spoke about this difficult realization during a storytelling event . Her period was three days late, and she felt absolutely exhausted. She assumed the听excitement of promoting her new book, , was simply sapping her energy. Days later, Thibeault learned that she was pregnant. Her son, Hawthorn, was born in February.

As a longtime fan of Alone, I became enthralled by Thibeault after she tapped out from the shores of Great Slave Lake during season six. Her ability to listen to her body and respect her limits resonated with me and many other viewers. When she announced her pregnancy鈥攐nly a year and half after she left the wilderness as the winner of Alone: Frozen鈥擨 knew that as a nature-lover and foraging enthusiast, there was a discussion to be had about the connection between pregnancy, motherhood, and surviving in the wilderness. I recently interviewed Thibeault on a video chat while she breastfed Hawthorn and then let him sleep on her shoulder. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

OUTSIDE: From two seasons of Alone to pregnancy and childbirth at 47, your body has endured a lot. Can you talk about this?
THIBEAULT: We had a traumatic birth. I had a C-section which was not remotely what I expected. I was angry with the doctor. Honestly, it felt like his fault. And then I learned from my midwife, who鈥檇 been out of town for the birth because Hawthorn came early, that the baby and I probably would have died without the C-section. Feeling like my body wasn鈥檛 capable was really hard. I had a lot of grief around that. It was harder emotionally recovering from birth because of that sense of my body betraying me. Childbirth is one critical defining thing about being a woman, and I was unable to do it without surgical assistance. My body didn鈥檛 recover until I was able to better process and face the emotional parts. I was just stuck in it for a while because of that grief, anger, shame, and guilt.

How did Alone prepare you for pregnancy and childbirth?
Having experienced what I did on Alone, I do feel that I was better equipped to handle all physical challenges. The birth was absolutely a near-death experience and very traumatic. But I also wasn鈥檛 really freaking out, even when the baby鈥檚 heart rate was going way down, and it was looking dicey. I had a sense of inner-calm through it because I survived really intense stuff already. In the hospital I had support, and so I think that I had less fear than I would have, had I not done Alone.听The hunger and depletion of pregnancy felt very much like survival. I would say it鈥檚 the same kind of deep physiological need.

During season six, you tapped out because you listened to your body. How did you apply this lesson to pregnancy?
It鈥檚 interesting because the show pushes you to give it everything and you get into that mindset. I hit this point during season six where I realized I didn鈥檛 believe in this, and听if I continue, I鈥檓 modeling this for millions of people. How could I do that?

Pregnancy and birth change your body. But on Alone I went through losing 50 pounds and then gaining it back. I鈥檇 already seen my body endure insane changes, and I think that helped me know that I could go through childbirth听and recover and find normalcy again. If I had known that pregnancy was coming, I would have prepared for it differently, but I was actively recovering from starvation on Alone when I got pregnant. Nutrition was definitely something I concentrated on. I鈥檓 an advocate of what I call primal- or paleo-nutrition鈥攅ating more of the foods that our ancestors ate, like organ meats. The first couple of weeks after giving birth, I felt like I was dying. But I also think I recovered better and quicker than most people partly because of good nutrition, and because I鈥檝e been so in touch with my body. To me, eating something wild every day feels really important.

Would you compete on Alone again?听
During season six, I never wanted to leave. But on Frozen, I had to convince myself to stay every single day. It was so hard and there were a lot of factors involved, like having a partner waiting for me at home. There was PTSD in my body. I didn鈥檛 think of my first season as traumatic, but then you get back out in the wilderness and you realize it was actually really hard. My body was remembering that trauma. With all that said, both times were the most amazing experiences of my life. When am I ever going to be able to live in pristine Canadian wilderness by myself and use a trap line that would usually be illegal? I long for those experiences again, but I don鈥檛 know that I could step away from my son.

You built a strong skillset of self-sufficiency and adaptability during your time in the wilderness.听How has this translated to motherhood?听
In Labrador, the weather was so terrible that even if I was able to get a rare satellite signal for my rescue radio, they would need to wait for hurricane-force winds to calm so they could fly a helicopter. There wasn鈥檛 a guaranteed immediate rescue. Just like motherhood, you don鈥檛 have an immediate tap-out option. And you鈥檙e just in it听from the time you鈥檙e pregnant. We鈥檙e so entitled in our normal world because we can have anything we want with the click of a button, and that is unprecedented in history. We鈥檙e not adaptable. We鈥檙e not healthy. We鈥檙e not emotionally grounded and stable. Having whatever you want, whenever you want is really bad for you. Mothering is often about sacrificing what you want and need. I thought it was impossible to survive postpartum. It was so hard, but I had no choice. I couldn鈥檛 not feed my baby when he was hungry. I couldn鈥檛 just fall asleep when my baby was screaming and I felt like throwing up from exhaustion. Survival, pregnancy, and motherhood are the things you have to do because it needs to get done鈥攁nd that鈥檚 beautiful.

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It wasn鈥檛 crossing over into my forties that felt so unsettling,听it was the physical signs鈥攕ubtle as they were鈥攖hat made aging bloom into something real and looming.

After my fortieth birthday, over the course of two years, my periods became heavier and more painful. Now, at 42, I sometimes spot between cycles. Sometimes my period comes early. Every month, days before I begin to bleed, my left breast becomes tender in one spot like the knotted growth of a burl budding from the trunk of a tree. When I asked the doctor if all of these things could be due to hormonal shifts that come with perimenopause, she shook her head. 鈥淔orty-two? You鈥檙e too young for that.鈥� But I wasn鈥檛 convinced. I feel my seasons changing, gray hairs streaking across my head and eyebrows like leaves surrendering to their fall colors.

This uneasiness around aging and my body changing settled within me, a low rumbling that I tried to ignore. I have two young kids to distract me, but the shifts whispered premonitions of what the near future brought鈥攊ncreasing signs of perimenopause, menopause, more folds of skin around my shoulder blades, more lines across my forehead and around my eyes like new grooves in the ground after heavy rains.

Both my husband and I were becoming increasingly aware of the passage of time. So when we saw the listing for a 1786 farmhouse in dire condition in Bridgewater, Vermont鈥攁 two and a half hour drive from our Boston home鈥攚e took a leap of faith. It wasn鈥檛 only the old house and its potential that made me fall in love. It was the land. The more I read about the natural world and edible plants, like wild raspberries and ramps, that surely thrived there, the more eager I became to get out into the wilderness and explore.

We closed on the house in December 2022, with plans to rehabilitate it over the next few years so that we could make an official move. At the first evidence of snow melt and new green, I set out on my mission. In the woods, my body seemingly betraying me with its own autumn during Vermont鈥檚 spring, I was eager to see what the land could offer. It was my first year of foraging. I came prepared, and maybe a bit overconfident. I had read the books, I had watched the YouTube videos. In unusual optimism, I bought a mesh bag and slung it over my shoulder to carry my bounty. In my coat pocket, a pocket knife was ready to assist in any find.

It was here in the Vermont wilderness, away from my role of mother, housewife, ringleader鈥攚hatever you want to call it鈥攖hat I tried to find myself again. I walked the woods, searching for wild treasures in order to stop myself from imagining I could walk backwards over the divide of 40. I knew that I had to stop focusing on what was behind me鈥攎y younger self鈥攐r I’d forget where I belonged, both in time and in my body.

And so, I turned my attention to听 what I could find in the newness of spring鈥攕pecifically, ramps, that wild allium with a pungent onion and garlic flavor. Every few minutes I stopped, listened to the sounds of water dripping from bare branches, and scanned the land around me for anything green coming up from the ground. Every now and then my heart skipped at the sight of something that could be the new delicate growth of an Allium tricoccum. Falling to my knees, not caring whether my pants got brown and wet, I ripped a leaf and sniffed, desperate to smell onion and garlic. Each time I got excited, I found that I was putting all my hopes into lily-of-the-valley. Hours passed, days passed, my legs burned from the hills I climbed. Still, no ramps. There were only lookalikes, those lily-of-the-valley and then the abundant false hellebore that sat deceivingly beside streams.

Here I was, 42, cheeks red from the still-cold air, frustrated now with both my body and the land.

I鈥檇 like to say that days after my sense of defeat I found a patch of ramps, foraged them sustainably, brought them home, and cooked them for my husband and kids. But I never found the ramps. Instead, days later, I came across a large patch of fiddleheads. It wasn鈥檛 what I originally set out for, but I couldn鈥檛 help but grin as I cut them at their base and stuffed them into my pockets. Back home, I fried them in butter and salt and let my kids crunch curiously. Summer was fast approaching, and I began to research what I could find next.

Summer was full of its own surprises. The small three-leaved plants that I鈥檇 always thought were clovers turned out to be the heart-shaped wood sorrel that gifted us a tingle of lemon flavor. The hill that our farmhouse sits on bloomed with small, tart wild strawberries. My daughter and I found a large patch of chanterelles along a trail in the nearby woods. A surprise sprinkling of hedgehog mushrooms taught me that they are one of the better-tasting edible fungi. I enjoyed these finds, but carried with me the dread of autumn and winter. This, I believed, was when the bounty would diminish and I would need to prepare myself for the wait for spring. I expected the wilderness to act as our bodies do鈥攕pring and summer (youth) would provide, late autumn and winter (middle age and beyond) would deplete.

Soon I could feel the shift in the air and the plants around me. Again, the seasons changed, and I prepared for disappointment, waiting for the woods to offer only silence and snow in the late autumn freeze. On a farewell walk in the woods, the first flakes dusting the dirt and patches of moss, I found thick oyster mushrooms blooming at eye level from the side of a maple tree. I removed them, to make sure they smelled of licorice, and smiled at the surprise offering from the woods.

Shortly after my oyster mushroom discovery, I listened to a Vermont Public Radio interview with Bob Popp, Vermont鈥檚 newly retired state botanist of 33 years. Part of his job was to monitor the population growth or decline of Vermont鈥檚 plants. The interviewer asked him why people should care about the plants he often visits for these wellness checks.听He admits that he never really figured out how to get everyone interested in the natural world. 鈥淲hen you鈥檙e driving down the highway going 70, you鈥檙e not really noticing anything.鈥� Paying attention to the plants around us requires slowing down. Popp adds that knowing how to identify plants can help people know where they are in the world. Foraging has certainly helped me find my place in my own seasons, my place in time.

Foraging with the ebb and flow of nature has helped me accept the ebb and flow of aging. Each month there are new things to look for in the woods; from ramps to wild strawberries in the spring and summer, to oyster mushrooms in the colder months. Sometimes there is abundance, and sometimes we have to accept the quiet lacking. Sometimes we look ahead and anticipate scarcity, emptiness, the loss of vitality. Aging, like those late autumn days in the woods, isn鈥檛 darkening and emptiness鈥攊t鈥檚 expansive and full of surprises. I finally feel grounded where I am.

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