Normally, when a person embarks on a big project, they shouldn't expect an instant pay-off. Surprisingly I am getting one on this "camping without the internet" project I am embarked on.
For years I have driven by some land on the west side of Colorado's San Luis valley that I fluttered my eyelashes at. But I never camped there because there was no internet signal. This year I stopped.
Since my camera broke recently, I can't show a photograph of the land. Perhaps it wouldn't be that impressive in a postcard. But who cares? It starts off as high rolling (BLM) pastures. Wave after wave of ascending green curves. Mountain biking up through it reminded me of some of Wagner's orchestral overtures, back in the day when I was first exposed to them.
It was a big deal when I reached the first tree. The boundary between forest and sagebrush/grasslands was irregular and indented, like an interesting shoreline with many bays and islands.
The topology changed. My heart sank, thinking that from now on I would have to settle for ugly ol' trees. But then a new and higher meadow would appear. It felt like a child who is exploring a large, old Victorian mansion, and is amazed to find yet another room that is different than the last room.
Push, push, push...it is easy to block everything else out of your mind when ascending. In this case, I wasn't paying any attention to junctions with other dirt roads. Therefore I got off-course on the descent. Finally I popped out of the trees and saw the van down by the highway, only about a mile off course. I walked the bike so it wouldn't make a rut. It is strange how you lose visibility in small waves of green. The rest of the world pulls away from you; you are swallowed up by the land, the way a sea kayaker is, by small waves in the ocean.
As enjoyable as this experience was, its real significance is the helpful analogy it offered. I am in the habit of reading a book with the mindset of a mountain biker on a tough climb: it is all teeth-gritting determination. And I won't relax until I summit.
That is how the internet sinks its hooks into me: it offers bite-sized snacks to read. From now on, when reading books, I will be light-hearted about it, looking for every possible excuse to interrupt the concentration. It is time to stop reading a book like a student doing homework. Fight fire with fire. Getting an internet signal will not be so important anymore, and my camping lifestyle will get a new lease on life.
For years I have driven by some land on the west side of Colorado's San Luis valley that I fluttered my eyelashes at. But I never camped there because there was no internet signal. This year I stopped.
Since my camera broke recently, I can't show a photograph of the land. Perhaps it wouldn't be that impressive in a postcard. But who cares? It starts off as high rolling (BLM) pastures. Wave after wave of ascending green curves. Mountain biking up through it reminded me of some of Wagner's orchestral overtures, back in the day when I was first exposed to them.
It was a big deal when I reached the first tree. The boundary between forest and sagebrush/grasslands was irregular and indented, like an interesting shoreline with many bays and islands.
The topology changed. My heart sank, thinking that from now on I would have to settle for ugly ol' trees. But then a new and higher meadow would appear. It felt like a child who is exploring a large, old Victorian mansion, and is amazed to find yet another room that is different than the last room.
Push, push, push...it is easy to block everything else out of your mind when ascending. In this case, I wasn't paying any attention to junctions with other dirt roads. Therefore I got off-course on the descent. Finally I popped out of the trees and saw the van down by the highway, only about a mile off course. I walked the bike so it wouldn't make a rut. It is strange how you lose visibility in small waves of green. The rest of the world pulls away from you; you are swallowed up by the land, the way a sea kayaker is, by small waves in the ocean.
As enjoyable as this experience was, its real significance is the helpful analogy it offered. I am in the habit of reading a book with the mindset of a mountain biker on a tough climb: it is all teeth-gritting determination. And I won't relax until I summit.
That is how the internet sinks its hooks into me: it offers bite-sized snacks to read. From now on, when reading books, I will be light-hearted about it, looking for every possible excuse to interrupt the concentration. It is time to stop reading a book like a student doing homework. Fight fire with fire. Getting an internet signal will not be so important anymore, and my camping lifestyle will get a new lease on life.
Comments
A postcard picture does not speak and I doubt that I would have seen this from looking at one..."Wave after wave of ascending green curves...it reminded me of some of Wagner's orchestral overtures.. The boundary between forest and sagebrush/grasslands was irregular and indented, like an interesting shoreline with many bays and islands. It felt like a child who is exploring a large, old Victorian mansion, and is amazed to find yet another room that is different than the last room."