I'd become the kind of adult my younger self would have pitied. A weeklong Arctic retreat helped me find my way back.

Business Insider

a day ago

Stephanie Pensa, 44, was starting to lose interest in both work and everyday life.
A hiking retreat in the Arctic helped her reconnect with purpose after years of feeling lost.
The personal growth came through nature, and a group of strangers who weren't afraid to be vulnerable.
Reading "The Alchemist" in seventh grade shifted something in my psyche.
Paulo Coelho's book, about a young shepherd who follows his dream in search of treasure and discovers his true purpose along the way, had such a profound effect that it guided me for the next 20 years.
It solidified my desire to travel the world and seek adventure, leading me to live in Rome and Rio de Janeiro. My dreams dictated my life decisions.
Later, after a divorce and a temporarily crippling disease, I moved back to the suburban town where I grew up. I started working in my family's business, of which I'm incredibly proud, but it's not my passion and doesn't fulfill me.
Over time, I lost enthusiasm for daily life. Turning 40, I realized I'd become the kind of hollow adult my younger self would've pitied.
Paving the way for change
Something was missing; I was missing. I was craving the outdoors. So when I came across a weeklong hiking retreat with 10 strangers in a remote archipelago in the Arctic Circle, it felt like exactly what I'd been searching for.
​Arctic Dreams Retreats is run by Rachel Pohl, a professional artist, and her husband, Charles Post, an ecologist.
I first came across Pohl a few years ago on Instagram's Explore page. Her long, Viking-esque blonde braids set against a snowy mountain backdrop caught my eye and compelled me to click.
I learned she was from Montana and had once been on track to become a professional skier, but instead, she turned her love of painting into a career. Calling herself a "slightly chaotic shield maiden," Pohl was a breath of fresh air, sharing openly about vulnerability, kindness, and joyful silliness. I was instantly captivated and she came across as someone I wanted to be friends with.
The couple, now in their 30s, moved to Lofoten, Norway, three and a half years ago. After struggling to make friends, they decided to host retreats — selecting the participants themselves — to share their adopted home with others. Having hosted two retreats so far, they like to joke, "We import our friends!"
Something told me that a week in Lofoten might reignite my spark — I wanted in and got started on the application, which included thoughtful questions about core values like respect for nature, adaptability, and living well with others.
Being offered a spot gave me a boost of hope.
Later, Pohl and Post told me they choose people they'd feel comfortable welcoming into their lives.
Bonding with strangers
The nine retreat participants, ranging in age from 20 to 44, came from Canada, Wales, and several US states. The group I traveled with in June happened to be all women, but the retreat is gender-inclusive and open to all. Last year's inaugural group included a husband-and-wife duo.
At our first lunch, Pohl asked the group, "What are you hoping to let go of this week?" The answers revealed that we'd all come to Lofoten seeking some form of personal transformation — amid loss, uncertainty, or self-doubt.
Most of us were nature-loving introverts, drawn to the retreat's focus on wellness and introspection.
I was thrilled to go — but also terrified. My physical fitness was at an all-time low (I love hiking, but I'm in the worst shape of my life), and my social anxiety wasn't helping.
It took a few days to shake my self-consciousness. But as the week went on, I relaxed, focused on getting to know others, and stopped fixating on how I came across.
We bonded quickly while tackling steep, unforgiving trails — like one with a 1,400-foot climb in the first mile, labeled "moderate" by Norwegian standards. Even the seasoned hikers from Colorado and Washington were out of breath.
Each evening, we gathered for candlelit dinners in a cozy 1930s farmhouse, sharing laughs and stories around a long table adorned with wildflowers. The meals were all plant-based and locally sourced.
It was during those meals that we enjoyed a rare harmony of strangers co-existing for a week in a faraway place.
Inspiration for my next steps
The endless daylight, constant symphony of Arctic birds, and wildflower-covered landscapes contributed to my healing. Jagged mountains rose from the sea, framing green valleys.
A turning point came on the day we went sailing. Someone misread a message I'd written in our group chat and thought I wasn't joining. She shared how sad she was when she thought I wasn't coming and how happy she was when she found out I was.
I was deeply moved to know my presence mattered. On our final night, I told her how much that moment meant to me.
The retreat reconnected me with my "magical" self — the part that believes in deep connection, the power of dreams, and the quiet alchemy of nature and human curiosity.
Though some of the post-trip bliss has faded, something in me shifted. I keep returning to the memory of standing on a mountaintop with new friends, wrapped in wool layers under the golden Midnight Sun, feeling more present and calm than I had in years.
I don't know what's next, but I'm finally open to the search again.