Really Really Off Grid
What happens when the internet goes down?
I live off the power, water, phone, septic and gas grids, but there is still one grid that I am deeply entrenched in—the internet. I remain deeply reliant on the internet grid, which includes my ability to make phone calls from inside my house. Satellites in the sky that I beam information to and from, distant towers that relay my most mundane concerns via text like grocery lists and where to meet me later and how late I’m running. I have become so dependent on these grids that when the internet went out for 24 hours last week, I barely knew what to do with myself.
I still had cell service. There are no land lines in my neighborhood, so cell phones are a lifeline, literally in case of an emergency, and a practicality for those fewer and fewer necessities that require phone calls. Cell service where I live is spotty in general, so I don’t make many phone calls. They certainly don’t sound well behind thick strawbale walls, so I usually call my doctor or dad (the last man on Earth without a cell phone) while sitting outside, often in the wind, trying to confirm my next appointment.
When I lived in Alaska in the early aughts, I borrowed a chunky satellite phone for a while until I bought my first pre-paid flip phone. Because without this ability to make a call, it feels almost precarious, dangerous, even though I could run to my nearby neighbors if I needed to, which must be what people did before phones, or take care of the emergency themselves.
Having come of age in the 80s and 90s, I lived over 20 years without access to internet and I was just fine. I printed photos on paper in doubles to give out to friends. Our social media was hanging out on the plaza on a Saturday night or by the river or cruising down Route 59. My only friends were people I met in person, and we communicated between meetings either by phone or if long distance (because that cost extra) by letter in the mail. I have a collection of beautiful letters sent to me by friends over the years. I did not know people that I did not know.
I worked at bookstores or babysitting. I printed stories out of the back of my word processor and mailed them to potential editors in stamped manilla envelopes with included self-addressed returned envelopes for them to mail back rejection letters to me. If people wanted to learn about me, they’d ask me or someone who knew me. I did not direct them to a website or social media. All the information I needed in the world could be found in books. I didn’t know any difference and it worked fine.
However, last week when someone accidentally dug into a fiber optic cable and the internet when out for much of the town (even cell service for some people), I was at a loss. I had a list of things I could do—garden, draw, read, finish that craft project, clean, sew a button, journal, fold laundry—but I didn’t want to do anything but watch TV, scroll Instagram, Google the best herbs for headaches, look up my step count, do a Pilates workout on YouTube, find that salad recipe I love, update my blog, check my astrology app, listen to a guided meditation, listen to music, check the news for more info on the internet outage and read emails—all things that require internet.
I scolded my husband for letting me get rid of the old DVD player and my awesome DVD collection, which I held onto up until last year when I cleaned out the overcrowded shed. I was annoyed with myself for not downloading any songs, videos or meditations for this very purpose. Why had I downsized all my books?!
My car stereo antenna doesn’t work and I have an old radio in the house that is meant to be for emergencies but I should have gotten rid of it instead of the DVD player because it gets terrible reception. I wondered if the local radio station and newspaper were also dependent on the same internet. Would they even be operating?
When we first moved to our remote location 30 minutes from an already remote town, the first thing we did was get internet and without trees, we have reliable service. My husband and I mostly work from home, though I have some in-person gigs guiding yoga, nature writing and forest bathing. None of which require internet. Without the internet, we’d have minimal income and very minimal interaction with people.
We love to go camping and voluntarily going off the internet grid for a few days like we did last week at Chaco Canyon. In that case, we are prepared. We’ve tied up loose ends, brought family fun entertainment and dropped out of the productive mindset. Perhaps one day in the future, we will even choose to permanently go offline and live an even quieter local life. But having the internet taken from us without warning has truly made me consider what our situation would devolve to without it. I can see how overly reliant we’ve become on it, certainly for entertainment and for finances.
What is the worldwide web we have entangled ourselves in and what would happen if it disappeared?