As a travel writer, I live outside the U.S. for three to six months per year. This year, I was gone a full six months: from January to June 2017. When I returned, things that once seemed “normal” felt entirely foreign – one of the most striking examples being our near-addiction to cell phones.

When I walk down the streets of Portland, Oregon, my part-time home, it’s not an exaggeration to say that every other person I pass has a phone in hand. And half of those people are looking down at their phone while walking. Yesterday, a gentleman in the crosswalk tripped right over my rather large dog; he was on his phone and didn’t see us. Apparently, I should have warned him that we were, in fact, right in front of him.

If you haven’t traveled outside the States recently, the sight of people constantly on their phones may seem normal to you. As a an “outsider” returning to my own country, I can tell you: this lack of presence, this lack of real-time awareness of one’s surroundings – it feels disheartening, somehow. Disconnected.

And it made me wonder: When are we fully present anymore, in America?

 

When are we “all there,” so to speak, and not compulsively checking our phones? And what is this addiction to technology really costing us? What are we missing?

What are we missing? Photo taken at Great Sand Dunes National Park.

 

We’re missing the moment. We’re missing connecting with one another. We’re missing face-to-face conversations – without distractions. How many times have you walked by a restaurant lately and seen a couple sitting together at a table, both on their phones? When given the opportunity to connect, we often turn to our phones instead, thinking that is where “connection” lies.

It’s the lack of truly interested, deeply engaged human connection that I sense almost immediately when I return to the States. There’s a feeling of sterility to it.  People are more comfortable with their phones than with the people in their lives. Even when I’m in a foreign country and I don’t know the language very well – I still often feel more connected to the people around me. Why? Because it feels like people are actually looking at me; they’re really trying to understand me, versus saying “Uh-huh” while secretly side-eyeing their phone.

The subconscious message being sent, whenever someone checks their phone instead of engaging with the person in front of them, is: “Whatever is on my phone is more important than you are.”

A few years from now, I predict there will be a rather seismic backlash to our current obsession with technology. And our choice in vacations will reflect that. One of the things we’ll need a vacation from, in fact, is technology. We’ll begin to recognize our need for three very specific things:

1) Human & Animal Connection, 2) Open Space, and 3) Freedom from Screens & Technology.

We won’t just want these things. We will NEED them. To make us feel human again.

We’ll need these things in our everyday lives, but we’ll most especially be craving them when we travel.

Photo of Chico Basin Ranch, courtesy of Ranchlands.

Conservation Definition = Preservation, protection, or restoration of the natural environment, ecosystems, vegetation, and wildlife.

Duke & Duke Phillips, talking shop on the Ranch. Photo courtesy of Ranchlands.

You’ll notice: other than photography, none of the above activities includes even a whiff of technology. Try wrangling a horse while texting – you just might get kicked in the face. Or how about branding cattle while documenting it on Instagram? Good luck with that.

A doctor we met at Zapata said he “wished he could take all his doctors out here for a week,” to be away from their ever-present phones and pagers, which, especially among his younger colleagues, he says, are a constant presence.

Along with our increase in screen time has come a decrease in movement. The average American sits thirteen hours per day. Children spend, on average, seven minutes per day outside playing, away from screens. Seven. Minutes. What kind of legacy is this creating for our children? How will they become the next stewards of our national parks and wild places when they’ve only seen and experienced them on screens, instead of in real life? 

ConserVacations are what will help create the next generation of outdoor enthusiasts, national parks advocates, cowboys, ranchers, nature and animal lovers, and in general, well-rounded, grounded human beings.  Technology tends to scatter our energy.  Nature tends to ground us, and bring us back in touch with ourselves and our surroundings.  

The American West.

Original Definition of Vacation = An extended period of recreation, typically spent away from or traveling.
New Definition of Vacation = An extended period of recreation, spent away from home and technological devices.

Technological devices have become our homes. That is what I see every time I return to the States.

But the problem is: screens aren’t good for our souls. What’s good for the soul is the same as it has been for a very long time: Movement. Hard work. Helping others. Nature. Good friends. Conversation. Laughter. Animals. Sunshine. Space. Freedom. All things that the American West once stood for, and that our American ranching legacy today still stands for, as at Zapata Ranch.  And one that they’re trying to pass on to future generations.

Definition of ConserVacations = An extended period of recreation, especially spent away from home and technological devices, with the intent to preserve, protect, and restore both our inner (personal) and outer (collective) natural, wild environments.

The vacations of the future will be vacations away from technology. Our children will need it. We will need it.

The American West and what it stands for: limitless possibilities, cooperation with the land, a pioneering spirit, and above all, freedom from tyrannies of all kinds – is an idea deeply etched in our collective unconscious.  Within the greater context of the world, America stands for one thing, more than any other place in the world: freedom.

It’s the thing I love most about America: our ability to choose. Our ability to be free.

But as we remain bound to technology, bound to our devices: I wonder how free we really are.