There are a number of ways of using a SPOT device.  But one is (as others have mentioned) to bury it in a pack and onlyuse it if a call for help if that is needed.  In that sense, is it not essentially just another tool in your emergency medical kit.  For me, being new technology has never been a reason not to put something in the med-kit. SPOT used this way is not even a new concept.  It is just more effective then a whistle or a signalling mirror.  Same purpose, just greater range.

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Hey Preacher,

I'm gonna give a different take on this one.

It hinges on the word "connects," of course.

I certainly don't equate the rigor of our trips to the wilderness with the life of my ancestors. Modern equipment, serious help just a call (if you get SPOT/SAT/CELL stuff) away, at the end of the trip I'm back in a truck, house, paying job and so on and so on.

I fully understand that, and agree with your "hobby" vs. "brutish" comparison.

Just like Hollywood, we tend to glamorize and romanticize everything from ranch life to pioneer settlements to explorers and even war. What's the saying about adventure, that it sounds fun until you're in one?

However, there are moments when I'm in the bush where I do gain an inkling of understanding of what life was like back then and do begin to feel what they felt, and do experience some of what they experienced.

Yeah, it's a limited connection, but it's there nonetheless.

For example:

When I'm in the woods for a while, I begin to lose sense of time as in a day measured by a clock. Now it's measured by the sun. The day is sun-up to sun-down. Actually, I don't even carry a watch. The structure of the day changes, as do my sense of "deadlines."

Slowly and surely, my activities begin to be dictated by the weather. Always a nose to the wind, an eye on the sky. Canoeing on big lakes, or hunting deer, especially so.

I don't eat if I don't cook. Can't go through the drive-thru. Wife ain't cooking.

Medically, if you're hurt, you fix it. Guy I was with hit his thumb with an ax on day 3 -- he dealt with it. Wrapped it tight, kept paddling and fishing and cutting wood and cleaning fish (but not pumping water -- we had a gravity system!), and unwrapping and cleaning the wound every day. Granted, it wasn't a broken leg or an arrow wound or animal bite. However he knew he couldn't go to the local ER for some stitches, knew Ibuprofen was about the best he could do for the pain.

When my partner flipped our canoe while fishing (yeah, it was HIS fault, heh heh) on a rainy day in mid-September, I found myself swimming a canoe to shore, crawling up on a log at the base of a cliff and manuevering to empty the canoe and get stuff back loaded, then eventually getting back to camp and some dry clothes. Nobody rescued us. We got ourselves into the mess, then we got ourselves out of it. Self-reliance.

And every time I've had to get a fire started (or re-started after a downpour) with a woods saturated by days of rain, I've instantly felt empathy for the guys who'd had to do the same things sans fire sticks or matches or other modern conveniences. It was easier for me, but I understood -- right then and there -- how such a small thing could have been so big of a deal. And once I DID get it started, I saw immediately just how much a fire would have meant to them on such a day.

And more from a spiritual standpoint, I wrote a piece for a magazine once about going off into the woods alone with a rifle, shooting a deer at dusk, then cleaning and cooking part of it over a fire of honey locust branches I'd broken with my hands while camped on a ridge overlooking a deep ravine. The ending was something like:

As I savored each bite beneath Orion's steadfast watch, I felt wildness and wisdom creep into my soul. I tried to imagine what it had been like two, three, four hundred years ago. And I wondered whether on that same ridge, amid the same solitude, a hunter had cleaned and cooked his kill around a flickering fire, warmed by the same exhilaration of the hunt.

Hokey? Maybe a bit.

But I can tell you that sitting around a fire late at night, listening to the night sounds, eating an animal I just killed myself and surrounded by stars, I do feel emotionally connected more to my ancestors than to my modern-day colleagues, few of whom would ever dream of doing such a thing, or could cross that moral line and take a life, who would gag at the sight of blood, who could even start a fire, and who would surely feel uncomfortable or even afraid out in the wilderness alone.

Am I Daniel Boone or Simon Kenton? (referencing my Kentucky forebearers, you northern woods guys and women insert your own pioneering explorers).

No.

But at such times, for a brief moment, I firmly believe there's a direct line to the heart of my forefathers, whose every moment centered on eating enough and staying warm enough to live another day.

THAT'S why I go out there.

(Thanks for letting me explain, man!)

-- kypaddler 

That was beautiful,Ky.Paddler. I think an awful lot of of us are looking to make that sort of conection. We're not going on a "vacation" away from our job,the" hustle and bustle",'dem wimmens',or for the exercize.  Those of us who are fairely far away and make a very special 'trip' out of getting into that ,...so very hard hard to find...,remote wilderness,are mostly looking for the "magic"...  I'm going to church when I get to go. I suppose that's why some folks worry about letting all this modern "small world" technology come along. Could be it'd spook the 'magic' and turn the whole thing into just a " vacation".  I too, like the way you think. Thanks for laying it out for us so nicely.

I think just filling my lungs full of the sweet early morning air and seeing the change of color and light is enough to let me share something pretty strong with those who have stood on the very same shore at dawn.  ...