I’ve never particularly liked the colour green. I’m not sure why. Green walls? Not for me. Green sofa? Definitely not. Green smartphone? Jog on. And yet, drop me in the middle of a forest, and I can’t get enough of the stuff.
There’s something about walking beneath a canopy of trees that quietens everything down. The never-ending to-do list fades away, replaced by birdsong and rustling leaves. For a little while at least, emails, deadlines, and notifications, cease to exist.
It is, perhaps, a slightly odd thing to admit when I spend most of my life writing about tech. AI is one of the most exciting things I’ve seen happen to the industry, and I believe that – for better or worse – it’s going to change the way we live and work. It’s already started, in fact.
But I also can’t help feeling that our relationship with technology has changed. At least, mine certainly has.
Like most millennials, I grew up in the 90s/early 2000s in what now feels like the ultimate sweet spot. We had the internet, games consoles and mobile phones, but they hadn’t yet crept into every facet of our lives. Going online was something you actually decided to do. Now it’s the default.
AI didn’t create that shift, but it feels like the next step. Now, every app wants our attention. Every service wants another subscription. Every spare minute gets filled before we’ve seemingly had a choice. AI promises to help us do more, create more and consume more than ever before. Useful? Potentially. But – and I realise I can’t speak for everyone – I’m very much craving the opposite.
So that’s why I’ve found myself making more of a conscious effort to explore the great outdoors. From a quick stroll through the local fields, to exploring the woods and eyeing up a summer of camping, here’s why it’s okay to put down your phone and, quite literally, touch grass.
1. Camping forces you to slow down
I’m incredibly impatient by nature, and it makes for a rather stressful life. Ironically, while technology like AI is helping us do more in less time, camping reminds us that not everything benefits from being sped up. Tech has also made plenty of things slower or more of a faff in the process. Find me someone who enjoys filling out 2FA codes, and I’ll show you a brazen-faced liar.
Hiking through the wilderness and setting up a camp though? That’s pure, unpressured bliss. You walk leisurely because that’s the only pace available when you’re lugging around 20kg on your back. Dinner’s ready when you’ve cooked it, and if you fancy a coffee, you have to go through the faff of boiling pots and navigating a fascinating world of dinky little mugs. It’s all rather strange and beautifully inefficient, and does wonders for resetting the concept of time.
2. Your body wasn’t built for this life
AI might eventually take more work off our shoulders, but it can’t take us for a walk. Most of us spend our days sitting down. We drive to work, sit at a desk, move to another chair for dinner, then spend the evening looking at a different screen before going to bed and doing it all again. Is it any wonder that your hip flexors are tight and your back is barely hanging on?
Then there’s camping. Camping is here to remind you and your body of who you are. You carry your own gear. You climb hills because that’s where the path goes. You walk across uneven ground, balance over rocks, and duck under branches without thinking of it as exercise. By the end of the day, your legs are tired, your shoulders are sore, and come 8pm, your shabby sleeping bag looks like the most comfortable place in the entire solar system.
Yes, you’re shattered, but it’s the good kind. The kind that feels earned. Your brain’s not fried from putting together a bloated deck to earn shareholders more money this quarter. Sure, you scraped your shin scrambling over some rocks, but you made it. You’re exhausted, everything hurts, and you’ve never felt better.
3. Nature doesn’t want anything from you
One of the things I’ve really started to notice hate about modern life is that everything seems to want something from me.
Another subscription here. Another AI upgrade there. Oh look! A notification. Here’s an app trying to tempt me back. Even the things I’ve already paid for seem to come with ads, reminders, or another monthly fee attached. Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t had to start paying a monthly subscription for my cat (I’d pay it too, albeit begrudgingly)
Nature is different. A grassy glade doesn’t care whether you stop for five minutes or five hours. A mountain isn’t trying to keep you engaged with brainrot reels. The birds don’t need you to subscribe before they’ll sing.
For a little while, nothing is asking for your time or attention. Better yet, you’re free to give it to whatever you fancy. We have the power to wield both precious resources as we choose, and we’d do well to remember that more often. Tech companies are desperate for your attention. Spend it wisely.
4. Boredom is good for you
Was I bored as a kid? I must have been on occasion, but I struggle to remember any specific examples. I’d always find something to do. Balled-up pair of socks? Indoor football. Inventing the Jaffa Cake sandwich? Not my brightest idea, but it passed the time.
Now? I scroll, while AI promises to fill even more empty moments with answers, recommendations and perfectly tailored content. Useful? Perhaps. Necessary? I’m not convinced.
I’ve got a guitar upstairs that’s never progressed beyond three chords. I keep telling myself I’ll learn Japanese. I’d love to learn how to DJ one day. The problem isn’t that I don’t have things I want to do. It’s that I’ve become far too good at filling every spare minute with things that don’t really matter.
And that’s one of the unexpected things hiking and camping give back. There are moments, plenty of them, in fact, where absolutely nothing is happening. It’s only after I’ve fought the urge to reach for my phone, that I realise that’s perfectly okay. I can sit on a rock. Watch the clouds. Count the sheep. Chat over a calming cup of freshly brewed coffee. Not every quiet moment needs filling. It’s more than enough just to be in it.
5. Some things don’t need improving
One of the biggest promises of AI is that it’ll make life easier. It’ll save us time, answer all of our questions, and help us become more productive than ever before. That’s all well and good, but where’s the spark? The variety? The spice?
The fastest route. The quickest meal. The most efficient workout. AI makes all of that easier, sure, but like a ravenous Dementor, it slurps the soul out of everything as well. Where’s the room to experiment? The motivation to try different things? To make your own discoveries?
That’s why I love spending time outdoors. Unless you’re on a military schedule, you’ll soon realise that not every second of the day needs to be optimised. You don’t have to rush a sunset because you’ve got somewhere else to be. And you don’t have to spend all evening trying to make a campfire more efficient. Sometimes it’s okay to just chuck the logs on, and burn your marshmallows to a black, runny goo, like nature intended.
However you feel about it all, AI and tech aren’t going anywhere. They just aren’t. Some will fade, while others will go on to shape the way we live our lives. Hopefully, during all this, we’ll unlock more time for ourselves in the process (Capitalist Overlords permitting, of course). If that’s the case, you can bet I’ll be doing my best to spend as much of it outside, rather than glued to another screen.
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