ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Wednesday, December 18, 1996 TAG: 9612180074
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-19 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: JUSTIN ASKINS
TODAY, MOST sane people realize that we should never have developed things like atomic bombs or chemical weapons. Not surprisingly, we are slowly ridding the world of these demonic devices, and most of us feel slightly safer. But those who love wilderness take note: The same sort of mindless techno-surge is threatening what little is left of our wild areas. The gearheads are coming.
Gearheads - those who design or devotedly purchase and use high-tech items like satellite locators and cell phones in the wilderness - don't seem to remotely resemble a mad scientist or Slim Pickens in Dr. Strangelove, but a closer look makes the comparison much more plausible.
Right now the greatest threat to Yellowstone Park may not be development outside, but rather the techno-fanatics who still see wildness as something to be overwhelmed with computer-chip wizardry. For these people, comfort and safety are the justification for making wilderness little more than a nature-themed Disney World.
And that might be OK if the effects could be isolated to the users alone. But as anyone who has hiked within a mile of an ATV trail can attest to, the consequences of technology rarely end just a few feet from the owners.
I have hiked many of the wilder Virginia areas (like McAfee Knob and Dragon's Tooth), but more and more I avoid them because when you get to the top, there is the increasing possibility of someone playing a radio or, as I experienced one autumn afternoon on McAfee, watching a tiny - but loud - portable TV. There is simply no reason to bring a radio or TV to McAfee Knob; those who need such devices should sit outside a McDonald's and blast away.
I think most people who hike would agree about the TV and radio ban - though I'm sure that some would argue for The Weather Channel or NOAA radio - but I want to deal with a further and much subtler threat.
It is hard to argue that one is safer because he or she can watch the latest episode of "Baywatch" or listen to the newest Madonna tune. But clearly one would seem to be safer with a cell phone or a satellite location device. After all, accidents happen, and being able to call in instantly and explain exactly where one is could save lives.
Agreed. But what are we giving up by allowing these electronic bulldozers into the very few real wilderness areas remaining?
Wilderness has always been unforgiving unless you are prepared and in reasonably good shape. It has always been a place of challenge, beauty and spiritual enlightenment. Emerson wrote, "In the woods, we return to reason and faith," and the latter is what we need most, faith.
But what kind of spiritual reward comes out of sleeping with an 832-channel cell phone under your high-tech, self-inflating pillow?
I am not going to address the false confidence that comes from relying on technology instead of common sense and conditioning. The increasing need for costly rescues attests to that concern. Rather, I want to stick with the impoverishment that comes about from entering a sacred place with armor on, and what that does to anyone else there.
Numerous writers, from John Muir and Mary Austin to Gary Snyder and Gretel Ehrlicht, have found the awesome humbling that comes about with exposure to genuine wildness. One of the reasons people care about these writers is because the feelings their works record are deeply sacred. In a culture of CD-ROMs and cyberspace, the sacred is profoundly absent. Now the electronic blight may be entering the wilderness, and its effects will be pervasive.
Admittedly, it is rare to be completely alone in an untouched area. But now, instead of meeting other people with similar skills and desires, it will be possible to find complete novices falsely secure with their gadgetry. Camping out near them, say, in the back country of Big Bend National Park, how can you feel the connectedness with nature that comes with a genuine separation from civilization, the humility that comes out of realizing your own small part in the universal pattern? You might as well have a pay phone and a ranger station next to you.
No, wilderness should be left out of the computer age. There is simply too little left to encroach upon it further. Thoreau cautioned that "in Wildness is the preservation of the World." Let's not forget his timeless admonition.
Justin Askins is an associate professor of English at Radford University.
LENGTH: Medium: 77 lines ILLUSTRATION: GRAPHIC: Matt Harrington/LATimesby CNB