Technology has seeped into nearly every facet of our generation's lives. It is not uncommon to see a group of high school or college age kids in a public place staring at their phones, ignoring the people with whom they’re supposed to be socializing. Most people under 30 are carrying some type of smartphone that can show them anything they might want to see and connect them to nearly anyone they might want to contact. It’s not surprising that technology has captivated us in such a way. We are always connected. I want to remember how it feels not to be constantly connected, so I’ve decided to embark upon a wilderness sabbatical for the next week. I’m going off the grid as much as I can.
My grandparents own a home in the middle of Wisconsin’s national forest. I have always been fortunate enough to spend a portion of my summers there. At most, there is never more than 20 people within 10 miles of their house. I’ll occasionally hear the skidding of a boat trailer being pulled behind a local fisherman’s pickup truck. Most of the time, all I hear are the birds chirping in the trees, the wind rustling the forest’s canopy, and the scurrying feet of a small critter off in the distance. When the sun goes down, it is dark, so dark that I can barely see a few feet in front of me, but there is an upside to the darkness. I’ve seen more stars in a single night in the forest than I see in an entire year in the suburbs.
Sadly, technology has slowly encroached on my secluded little sanctuary. I can remember when my grandparents installed a satellite dish, so they could get the local weather without static. The presence of a TV was a welcome comfort most nights, but it took away from my surroundings during the day when I was younger. Last year, my grandmother actually installed a WiFi router in the cabin, and my entire family buried their noses in their phones, relieved that we would not miss a single update on the lives of everyone back home.
Having a reliable Internet connection sort of defeats the purpose of going to a place like this. Part of the beauty of the forest is the separation from the motions of one’s daily routine. While not physically connected to my life 800 miles away, I was more connected with everywhere else in the world but my surroundings. I want to disconnect for a week and focus on relying on occupying myself with actual activities. Once I arrive, I plan on shutting off my phone and tossing it in a drawer for a few days. I’ve packed a duffle bag full of clothes, a small satchel filled with a few novels and notebooks, cigars, and my fishing and archery equipment.
I plan on spending most of my time outside. I’ll spend at least every evening fishing. I’ll hone my archery skills in the silence of the woods and secretly pretend I’m Robin Hood. There are parts of the forest I haven’t explored as much as I feel I should have, but I’m capable of wandering the woods safely at this point in my life. I might even take a rowboat over to one of the lakes I’ve never fished. Even if I don’t catch anything, I’ll be seeing something totally new.
My plan is to remember who I am when I’m alone. There’s something deep within one’s self that can only be found in the woods. I’m not sure what I’m looking for or what profound truth I’m trying to discover. I do know that going off the grid for a week will be an experience with some kind of lesson behind it.
Keep an eye out for the follow-up article to see how it goes.
