From Cyberspace to Greenspace – Rediscovering the World Beyond Our Screens

Why We Hope Our Walk Across Canada Will Encourage Others to Get Outside and Explore

 
As we prepare to leave our jobs, sell our home, and begin walking across Canada on the Great Trail, formerly known as the Trans Canada Trail, one of the questions we are frequently asked is why we would give up the comforts of modern life to spend several years travelling on foot. There are many reasons, some of which we have explored in our previous entry about our decision to undertake this journey. However, one consideration has increasingly influenced how we think about the expedition and what we hope to accomplish along the way.
 
It begins with a rather ordinary observation. Despite living in a country with extraordinary natural landscapes, abundant wildlife, and countless opportunities for outdoor recreation, many of us seem to be spending less time experiencing the world beyond our screens.

 
We certainly cannot claim to be exceptions.  Like many people, Sean and I spend much of our working lives sitting in front of computers. In my case, this often involves studying bird populations, mapping habitats, analyzing environmental information, and reviewing research about the natural world. Sean also spends considerable time researching and teaching online while also working with photographs, writing, and using digital technology. When the working day is over, we have both found that it is remarkably easy to continue sitting in front of another screen, watching television, checking emails, or browsing the internet.
 
We have access to more information about the world than perhaps any generation before us, yet we sometimes wonder whether having so much information immediately available is changing how much effort we make to experience things for ourselves.

 
This question has become particularly relevant as we watch younger members of our family grow up in a world where computers, smartphones, video games, and social media are part of everyday life.  Over the past several years, we have watched one younger relative struggle with an increasingly consuming interest in video games. What began as a source of entertainment gradually began to interfere with other activities, relationships, and school attendance. At one point, the situation became very challenging.  At its peak, they skipped more than forty days of school in a single semester and eventually began to lie and steal simply to keep playing video games.  Despite efforts being made to develop other interests and reconnect them to a world beyond a digital screen, this relative remained in a digital cocoon.  Eventually, they were sent to a nature school where students were disconnected from the internet, social media and video games and immersed in a curriculum that emphasized nature, the exploration of the outdoors, and interpersonal connections. 
 
Startlingly, as the teachers at the nature school observed, digital and social media addiction and the challenges of people living lives online were becoming increasingly challenging realities.  This is of course to suggest that the experiences of some represent those of an entire generation.  For many people, digital technology provides opportunities for learning, creativity, and new skills.   Technology – like the farm plows and later the printing press beforehand – is an amazing tool.  However, the predominance of screens has begun to give way to concerns about sleep, mental health, attention spans and displacement of social norms.

 
As such, the experience within our own family has made us think more carefully about how interests develop, how habits become established, and what happens when one activity begins to crowd out nearly everything else.  Perhaps what concerns us most is not just the amount of time spent using technology and living alone behind a screen, but what is being lost in the process.
 
There is a difference between watching someone explore a forest in a video game and going outdoors to explore one yourself. In a game, the landscape has already been created, the possible activities have been programmed, options are defined, and the choices available to the player are ultimately determined by someone else. In a real forest, there is no predetermined sequence of events. You may follow a path, investigate an unfamiliar sound, encounter wildlife, discover something unexpected, or simply find a quiet place to sit.  In the latter, you have to pay attention to what is actually around you. Of course, this does not mean that every walk in the woods is exciting or that everyone will find outdoor activities equally appealing. Sometimes the weather is unpleasant, the insects are relentless, and absolutely nothing remarkable happens. Yet even these ordinary experiences offer opportunities to develop patience, curiosity, independence, and the ability to find something interesting without requiring constant entertainment.  Lived experiences give way to growth. 

 
We sometimes wonder whether our increasingly connected lives filled with time behind screens in digital realms leave enough room for these experiences. And of course, the concern extends beyond young people. As adults, we are hardly immune to the attractions of convenience, instant information, and constant entertainment. When we want to learn about a place, we search for it online. When we are uncertain about a route, we consult a map on our phones. When we have a few minutes to spare, we reach for a device rather than looking around us.  Yet when people now seem to struggle to walk without watching a YouTube video or seem lost in a grocery store because they are engaged with their phones, something has gone amiss.
 
Digital maps, online resources, and communication are enormously useful, but it is now worth considering whether having so much available all the time reduces our inclination to investigate, explore, and pay attention to the world around us. There is after all a difference between learning the name of a bird from a photograph and developing the patience to find it, observe its behaviour, discover where it lives and how it survives. Just as there is a difference between reading about a community and visiting it, or studying a landscape on a map and experiencing how it changes as you move through it.
 
We need both kinds of knowledge, but they are certainly not interchangeable.

 
For me, this distinction is particularly apparent in conservation. I can spend hours studying bird migration, habitat fragmentation, and the distribution of wildlife across Canada, yet the observations that first inspired my interest in ecology came from being outdoors. Watching birds, exploring forests, and discovering the extraordinary variety of life around us encouraged me to ask questions that eventually led to a career in conservation biology.  Those early experiences did not require expensive equipment, elaborate travel plans, or specialized knowledge. They required opportunities to explore and the curiosity to discover what was there. 

 
As we prepare to walk across Canada, our primary goal is to encourage more people to discover some of those possibilities for themselves.  To this end, the Great Trail offers an interesting opportunity because it is not simply a route through remote wilderness. It is a network of local footpaths, former rail trails, waterways, and recreational trails connecting communities throughout the country. Some sections pass through forests and mountains, while others cross agricultural landscapes, follow rivers, and travel through the middle of cities and towns.  80% of Canadians live within 20 minutes of the Great Trail – making it the ideal means for connecting people to nature in their regions from coast to coast to coast.

 
There is a tendency to think of nature as something that exists in distant national parks, remote wilderness areas, or places requiring considerable time and money to visit. Yet natural environments and opportunities for discovery are also found in neighbourhood parks, urban river valleys, wetlands, conservation areas, and even our own backyards.  A walk through a local greenspace may reveal migrating warblers, nesting robins, flowering plants, insects, or the seasonal changes occurring in a familiar landscape. None of these experiences requires a journey across the country, and sometimes the most interesting discoveries occur close to home.

 
We are particularly enthusiastic about birdwatching because it provides such an accessible introduction to nature. Birds can be observed almost everywhere, from city streets and backyard feeders to remote forests and coastlines. Learning to recognize a few common species can change how someone experiences an ordinary walk, turning previously unnoticed sounds and movements into opportunities for discovery.  There are also ways to contribute to scientific understanding through these interests. Programs such as eBird and iNaturalist, as well as other citizen science initiatives, allow people to record and share observations that can contribute to research and conservation. Participating does not require an advanced degree or professional scientific training.   Yet each inherently begins with an interest in what is happening outdoors and a willingness to pay attention.

 
We find this possibility particularly exciting.  At a time when so much of our interaction with the world takes place through digital devices, technology can also provide ways to encourage exploration rather than replace it. Bird identification applications, online observation databases, and accessible maps can help people develop new interests, visit unfamiliar places, and contribute information about the natural world.  The important distinction, perhaps, is whether these tools encourage us to look up from our screens and engage with our surroundings, or simply give us another reason to remain seated in front of them.

 
As we begin planning our journey, we hope to share some of the remarkable places, wildlife, and communities we encounter along the Great Trail. We want to show that exploration is not necessarily reserved for professional adventurers, highly trained athletes, or people with considerable financial resources. Curiosity, a willingness to go outside, and an interest in discovering something unfamiliar are often enough to begin.  We also recognize that people have different circumstances, abilities, responsibilities, and interests. Not everyone wants to hike long distances, sleep in a tent, or spend several years travelling across Canada. Nor should they need to. A short walk through a local park, an afternoon watching birds, or an opportunity to explore a nearby trail can be just as meaningful in its own way. Our decision to walk across Canada is simply how we have chosen to pursue some of these interests ourselves.

 
We do not know whether sharing our experiences will inspire anyone else to spend more time outdoors. Perhaps readers will follow our journey because they are interested in birds, geography, Canadian history, or long-distance hiking. Perhaps they will enjoy the photographs, follow our progress on a map, or simply be curious about what happens when two ordinary people attempt to walk across the country.  But if our journey encourages even a few people to explore a local trail, investigate an unfamiliar bird song, take part in a citizen science project, or discover something interesting in their own communities, we will consider that a worthwhile outcome.
 
For all the extraordinary information available to us through modern technology, there is still a remarkable amount waiting to be discovered beyond our screens.
 
And sometimes the best way to begin is simply to step outside.
 
See you on the Trail!