On a pitch-dark, moonless southern hemisphere summer night, the boat docks silently against a small wooden pier. Beyond the pier, the land is a dark blob against which the hazy outline of a wooden staircase is barely visible. The staircase leads to a narrow muddy path and everyone follows in a single line. The silence is a thick blanket and the senses are super-focused as a motley bunch of us wind our way through the forest near Glory Cove of Stewart Island, off the southern coast of New Zealand.
Called the Wild Kiwi Adventure, it is a midnight walk. There are just a handful of infrared torches between us to spot kiwis. Other than that, there is no light. I am encouraged to leave behind all electronics and I grudgingly comply. As the group goes deeper and deeper into the forest, I barely make out thick jungle foliage on either side, the trees rising into the sky, standing like sentinels. I can feel the jungle occasionally as leaves brush against my legs and arms. Heightened senses pick up random noises but without the means to locate them, there is a sense of foreboding coupled with excitement. Two squawking kiwis suddenly cross our path and we watch them under the red light in fascination.
About an hour’s trek takes us to a beach and we flop on the sand, revelling in the rhythmic sound of the waves under a mass of twinkling stars. I taste mild saltiness in the air, a gentle breeze on my skin and the combined smell from ocean, sand and jungle. It feels remote, like the end of the world. We make our way back to the boat after some time, ride quietly lost in our thoughts and bid warm goodbyes. I’ve been out for nearly 5 hours and am pleasantly surprised that I hadn’t once reached for my phone after the first few minutes. I feel both virtuous and gratified for proof that I can live without it. It feels less like rejecting technology and more about loosening the ubiquitous grip it has.
Although still quite nascent, one of this year’s trends is analogue travel. Described variously as “travelling without screens” and “travelling the oldfashioned way”, analogue travel prioritises slow travel, intentionality and immersion in the surroundings (be it nature or culture), and lays emphasis on human interaction. It goes beyond digital detox to deliberate unplugging and relying on predigital tech such as printed maps and navigating via landmarks, using actual cameras rather than phones for documentation, writing or sketching experiences rather than performing for an audience. It is seen as a reaction to sensory overload and exhaustion from technology. There’s even a catchy acronym: JOLO—the joy of logging off.
The biggest trigger for this is the way most apps work, with algorithms serving versions of the same using personal browsing data. This means that it gets significantly harder to find offbeat places or out-ofthe-box experiences. Ironically, the internet kills the very unpredictability that makes travel exciting by meticulously marking and predicting everything. Analogue travel, also called off-grid travel, is meant to put the excitement of discovery back in travel and make space for serendipity. A few years ago, in a remote part of Nagaland— with zero network—when the car broke down miles away from the nearest village, my guide and I trekked through tall oak and teak forests to our destination. On the way, we stopped to chat with farming families who offered us water and snacks, encountered wildlife, walked through masses of beautiful wildflowers, waded through gurgling brooks and wandered under bridges. It was so much fun that we even cheerfully declined the offer of a lift from a passing vehicle. I had a wonderful time in Nagaland during that trip, but our unexpected foray is the thing I remember the most.
“Travel in India is seeing a sea-change, especially in the way leisure is treated,” says Rohit Hangal, co-founder of Bengaluru-based tourism marketing company Sphere Travelmedia and Exhibitions. “Earlier, when you travelled to an off-beat destination and you didn’t find mobile signal, the place was considered ‘primitive’. But today if you find yourself isolated and without a mobile signal, it is considered pure luxury.” Hangal says that analogue travel is the extension of this and feels that soon travellers might have to “pay a premium, to isolate from technology.”
Travelling unplugged
It appears like it’s a trend whose time has come: web searches for “analogue travel” skyrocketed over 5,000%, over the last year according to Google Trends. A big driver of the trend is incidentally the digital-native generation which has grown up with smartphones. Delhi-based Purvi Shyam, 25, who works in social media for a tech startup and is required to be constantly online, says she went on a nature-focused trip with friends to Himachal Pradesh last year. “All of us decided that we’ll not use mobile phones during the day. Between us we had one DSLR and one basic camera and used only those. It was a bit stressful the first morning, but we gradually adjusted,” she recalls. “The trip itself was really good; we weren’t distracted and were more mindful. By the end of the trip, we were hardly reaching for our phones even if they were nearby.”
Purvi says she was amused when her parents used to regale her with stories about travelling in their time, armed with physical maps, guide books and cash, getting lost and using payphones, and being truly disconnected from the world. “I couldn’t relate to it at all, until this trip. Now I’ve realised the virtues of travelling like that,” she says.
Chennai-based psychologist and therapist Suhrudhaa L, who specialises in interpersonal relationships and stress management among other things, sees a direct connection between the rise in phone anxiety/social media burnout and a desire to travel unplugged. “When someone feels overwhelmed by constant notifications, social media, or the pressure to always be available, the desire to unplug can become a desire to regain some control over their attention. And sometimes, what people are really craving is not simply a break from their phone; they are craving a break from the feeling that they are always supposed to be doing something with it,” she says.
Suhrudhaa says the interesting thing is that the generation that grew up with the most technology may also be the generation that becomes most intentional about making space for life beyond it. “They are constantly exposed to new ideas about health, wellness, productivity, and how to live better. The same digital world that has made us more connected is also helping us discover the things we might need to disconnect from. Analogue travel feels like another expression of that same desire to be more intentional about how we live.” She adds that as a therapist, she finds the “shift hopeful, especially when you see people encouraging their friends, their peers, and even their children to have dedicated screen-free time.”
For those fascinated by the idea but doubtful whether it will work, Suhrudhaa has a cheat sheet. Rather than going cold turkey, she says, “I would encourage people to think about analogue travel as a gradual practice rather than an all-or-nothing challenge. You don’t necessarily have to go on a week-long trip without a phone to experience the benefits. You could start by navigating somewhere familiar without using Google Maps, spending an hour in a café without reaching for your phone, or taking a walk without documenting it.” Clearly, the trend is taking off. “Quite apart from being in nature and everything we saw, rather than being immersed in our screens, we had such great conversations,” says Purvi. “So much so that we’re planning a similar trip to either Uttarakhand or Ladakh this year.”
Anita Rao Kashi is an independent journalist based in Bengaluru.