After losing her way in the digital world, a journalist tries to find herself in the forest

In my bare feet, out in the forest, under a soaring canopy of western red cedars, Sitka spruce and vine maples wrapped in beards of moss, I was trying hard to “fox walk” as we’d been taught – carefully shifting my weight from one foot to the ball of the other and stepping gingerly, in order to move soundlessly and blend in with my surroundings. Not that I’d fool any fox trotting nearby with my bright blue jacket, Halloween orange shirt and crackling joints.