There’s a balance to be struck between taking too many and too few techy gadgets on an expedition. I’m a bit schizophrenic in this area. I’d like to say I’m a natural Luddite — last year I hitched home from Armenia with only a knife, phone and poncho — but I also greatly value the usefulness of certain technologies.
But some technologies become nothing but a fad, or — worse — create more problems than they solve. Over-complicated computer systems in small libraries. GPS navigation units which send drivers merrily trundling into rivers, despite warning signs and the presence of bridges. Fashion accessories, which also happen to play music; several times the price of equivalents from companies other than Apple. Phones for which 99% of the functionality has nothing to do with the act of making a call. What was wrong with those little pink library cards anyway?
This kind of stuff gnaws at my sensibilities, which tell me that every free-new-extra-added-bonus-feature attached to my life actually has a diluting effect on the whole. (As well as making my bike weigh more.) On the other hand, I would be extremely reluctant to sacrifice a digital camera while travelling. Or my video camera. Or internet cafe stops. I want to share what I learn — how else to do it? Do I need to think harder?
Is my bicycle itself a high-tech gadget? How about a cycling computer — is it important how many kilometres I rode today? Should the number on the screen make me proud of or disappointed with myself? Does it add to or detract from the experience, which, when you’re on a bike trip, isn’t about yesterday or tomorrow but purely about right now? How much does each piece of technology enhance or impede the adventure?
What about techno-travelling in general? Recently in Cairo I stayed for a couple of days in a hostel (unusual, I know!). Every evening I would return to find assorted guests from distant lands scattered about the generous rooftop terrace area, snatching brief, efficient snippets of conversation in between staring at the screens of their mini-laptops. You could feel the waves of don’t-disturb-me through the warmth of the late summer dusk. Isn’t social encounter part of the lure of the road any more?
It appears that today’s traveller often carries a complete virtual world with them. I can follow ‘tweets’, real-time one-line updates, from people who are cycling across the emptiness of the Nubian desert, as I was doing exactly a year ago. (It’s just so old-fashioned to be disconnected from the internet while you’re in the middle of the Sahara, let alone waiting a week or so before telling the world what happened today.) Who honestly enjoys this style of look-at-me-I’m-travelling broadcast more than a well-written book or series of thoughtful articles? But it’s easy to get sucked in.
For an upcoming adventure, I have a few decisions to make. Should I take a GPS as a navigational backup, or stick to my tried and tested method of taking the modal average of three different locals’ directions? How about a mobile phone to keep in touch with loved ones when I stumble across a pocket of reception? Twitter updates? (Actually, that’s a no-brainer — wait ’til I get back and grab a cuppa!)
Do I need a full-on tent, or will I be OK to bivvy and take a tarp shelter in case of rain? How many pairs of pants should I take? Just the one, as usual, in case of torn trousers? Do I need to load myself down with tools and spares for every eventuality, or just trust the proven reliability of my bike?
I somehow enjoy this weighing up of the options, the unavoidable mistakes and the consequent refining of future decisions. Reducing weight is paramount: My aim is to take nothing I can live without.
The important thing that I try to remind myself is that there’s no beating those moments of pristine, indescribable beauty, watching shooting stars from the perfect wild campsite, or feeling the wind in your face at the summit of the highest pass, or the recounting of rose-tinted escapades from the comfort of home. These are things that I’d never pass up for want of a gadget.
UPDATE: In early 2011 I conducted an experiment. I took a netbook and 3G phone to Scandinavia and attempted to write a daily blog from my frozen tent during the one-month winter tour. It was a bigger success than I could possibly have imagined. The lesson? Daily blogging is sometimes worth the compromises involved. Sometimes…
8 Comments
Great article, Tom. We often feel torn about technology. On the one hand, we love the connections we make with people around the globe. On the other hand, the weight, the cost and the way you can all too easily miss the beauty around you, because you’re staring at Twitter, tells us to keep technology to a minimum. I don’t think we’ll ever want to update daily while on a trip. We’d miss too many of the experiences we hold on to afterwards.
Thanks for commenting — I’m with you on that. I think it would take talent indeed to convey a journey through 160-character snippets. Maybe it’s even approching impossible.
On my last trip I was alone, and the rest days combined with the act of processing my thoughts into a full article were highly therapeutic, enabling me (and I think the readers) to make sense of what had happened. I once met a veteran cycle traveller who said that stopping to ‘download’, as she put it, is critical for making sense of the intensity of life on the road — I think she was spot on.
As with many words that are supposedly simple and straightforward I check the dictionary. Also in my own language I do this. Now I travel with a gadget called a Macbook and the dictionary in it tells me that travel is: make a journey, typically of some length or abroad. So length and distance are important to make it travel. Why? Because being away from your own traditions, habits and language makes a journey a whole new experience.
But with modern technology this can completely disappear. We are always a flight away from home and a call away from soothing voices. These are great achievements but ask for conscious choices. I learned a lot from travelling because I could not go home (money) or call a friend or family member.
Just last week I was reminiscing a long journey with a (now ex) girl friend. She remembered that in our 2,5 year Holland-Australie tour (1996–1998) the longest that our families had to do without any news from us was two months. I cannot imagine that now but I am so happy I have been so far away on my travels.
I think you’re exactly right — thanks for adding your thoughts.
Modern technology — bah humbug!
I fully appreciate your thoughts. However, possibly from a selfish point of view, I think one also has a responsibility to consider the emotional needs of those loved ones left behind. Fortunately, or unfortunately, gone are the days of ‘no news is good news’ Moden technology used in moderation is O.K?
Love Mum x
P.S. What sort of mother brought you up to have only one pair of pants!!!!!!?
Tom, good point. My Dad nearly went berserk with worry when my brother and I were cycling across the Sahara in Algeria in 1991(and we shoved our bikes on the back of a pick up for the really sandy bit) from Tamanrasset into Niger and he did not hear from us for two months. He was phoning my future father-in-law (who worked in Botswana at the time with the Foreign office) asking him and the High Commissioner to send search parties for us. That went down like a lead balloon.
We popped up in Ouagadougou on the phone saying we were fine, apart from having ‘the shits’ and the lack of comms was down to the lack of anything where we had just been through. “Hey! We’re in our early twenties and we are invincible!”
Technology is great as long as it works. But, it’s better for the soul when you rely on as little as possible to make your journey because it shows you that a simpler life with less ‘clutter’ is possible and very enjoyable. You don’t need much ‘stuff’ to have a wonderful time and unless you are very good at expressing yourself about your travels with instant updates using your tech stuff to your gazillions of followers, then save your money, don’t buy all the gear and use what you save to travel a little further and a little longer.
Your trip sounds fascinating and I’ve got my eye on your diary write-ups — looking forward to reading about your Sahara crossing… I wonder if that route’s still possible?
Will’s site is twoforafrica.co.uk for anyone else interested!
Hi Tom,
I’m not sure if it is still possible because of the political situation. The Algerian borders shut down a couple of months after we left the country and I am not sure if they have opened them on that route since then.
Glad you are getting a chance to look at my updates!
Thanks
Will
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