Nick Simonson
By Nick Simonson
This day and age, we trade a screen at home or in the office for one in the boat. I'd argue the latter is an upgrade, as the only incoming media an angler gets bombarded by on a sonar is a report of what's below or off to the side of the watercraft. The only visceral reaction and dopamine surge that results from that influx of data is to ready one's wrist with a spur of adrenaline for a hookset, or to make a slight turn in the trajectory of the trolling motor in search of the next active school.
Unlike the feeds and threads and comment sections that stream in real time which trigger reactions of rage, keyboard revenge, or elicit the (maybe not too bad) idea of tossing a smartphone into the waves; these readouts in a boat are a connection to the aquatic world below, and are a signal that at least you're outside doing something that isn't entirely focused on the digital world and the glow of slow blue death it emits.
There was a time when I didn't allow cell phones in my boat. Circa 2004 to 2006, anyone bringing one aboard was relentlessly hazed, and asked whether their stockbroker was going to call them with a hot tip, or if their girlfriend was expected to go into labor. My view on them softened over time, especially as higher quality cameras were added, and my fishing buddies and I had families, and ultimately safety became a sound argument which I couldn't rebut. Thus, I relented, eventually carrying my own phone on board so that those who needed to could stay in touch. Needless to say, even today it stays in my pocket unless a call comes in from home, a big fish gets caught, or a perfect photo opportunity presents itself on the water.
I don't do Snapchat. I'm not on Threads. I virtually ignore all of Facebook, save to see if my weekly stories are still being fed into the app via my website. If they weren't, I'd shrug it off and put the fix at the bottom of my weekly to-do list. I don't fish for any of those reasons either. I've got nothing to prove to friends and strangers on the internet. Each bluegill or crappie doesn't need a photo posted on X. I'm not interested in building a digital brand. I'm more focused on fishing and enjoying my time away from it all, connecting with a passion that began when Nokia dominated the market with an LCD screen and the Motorola flip phone was cutting edge. And if you couldn't tell from the newspaper you're likely reading this in, I've got a soft spot for print media.
Ultimately, that's the outdoors for me at this point in time. Having lived through the dot-com bubble, the rise of social media and the always-on eavesdropping of Alexa on my kitchen counter, the only crash I want to see is a bass breaking the surface, the rise I'm looking for is that of a hungry trout, and the only one I want to talk to is the buddy fishing next to me, or the wildlife moving around me. Sure, I use my phone to follow maps, and I have a few applications that keep me on course, and I can check regulations and fish stocking reports with a click where service allows, and even grab a photo to go with a story, but those activities are a mere fraction of my time outdoors on a given fishing day and certainly a juxtaposition in percentages when compared to the working day.
Keep that in mind now, as the still, humid mornings of the dog days of summer set in and use the tranquility afforded to think about why you're out there on the water. Any reason is a good reason, and yes, screens may even be a part of those efforts or a way of recalling your activity. But don't forget to find some disconnect between the online world and its digital stimuli and the real one with all it has to offer, from a fish on the end of the line, to the birds flitting through the sky, to the sun setting on the far shore…in our outdoors.
Simonson is the lead writer and editor of Dakota Edge Outdoors.
Featured Photo: While screens likely can't be eliminated on a modern fishing trip, their impact can be minimized and one can focus on the experience instead of the blue glow of today's ultra-connected world. Simonson Photo.
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