be hearing a lot more about it.
Kramer sipped a lassi and briefly checked his phone. I asked him
if he would be following Strayer’s advice and taking a three-day tech
break while in Moab. He peered at me rather severely.
“I brought four computers.” He paused. “I can do it though. I lived
in a snow cave for a month.” Several heads swiveled his direction.
“He’s a sensation-seeker,” Strayer explained.
“Definitely,” Kramer said.
“Do you still have your Harley?” someone asked.
“Yep.” Kramer pulled up a photo of a red motorcycle on his
phone.
“Still wearing leather?” asked Strayer.
“Yeah, a jacket.”
“No pants?”
“Well, I always wear pants.”WE WERE READY to experience some of the benefits of tech withdrawal
in a place with no cell service. For the next day’s hike up Hunter
Canyon, Gazzaley planned to ditch his phone altogether, pulling out a
beloved Real Camera. I expressed an interest in identifying
wildflowers. Without the Internet, I’d need to go old-school: a
laminated flower guide presented to me that morning by Ruth Ann
Atchley, a psychologist from the University of Kansas. It’s worth
noting that she and her husband, Paul Atchley, who is another expert
in distracted driving, managed to hold off owning smartphones until
several weeks earlier, and then only to help manage email while
traveling. These two are definitely not playing Crossy Road.
As we waited for the others to gather in the lobby, Paul Atchley
wondered aloud if the restorative benefits of nature might in fact
spring from what’s not outside: the pings and dings and mental
disruptions of a wired life. It was part of the ongoing conversation
about which factors to isolate in upcoming studies.