We in the urban world have come to expect abundant, ubiquitous Wi-Fi. But when you leave the comfort of your home hub it becomes harder to find. Turns out even some of the more posh campgrounds, even those close to civilization, don’t all assume guests expect Wi-Fi.
It’s our first morning waking up in the King Oscar—Bruce named the Airstream after the sardine brand because the container looks similar—and the first thing I did was fire up my phone to catch up. Well, that was actually the 2nd thing I did. First I lay in our comfy, feathered bed and marveled at how lucky we are to be footloose, our only deadline an upcoming national park reservation, our only worry making sure we turn off the propane when we leave. Wow. Free time really is the greatest luxury.
Anyway, there are some private hotspots around here—here being Preston, WA (yep, we drove all of 20 minutes to Preston after saying goodbye to family and friends in the Mercer Is. community center parking lot). But no Wi-Fi love for me. What to do?
Some say being disconnected is the natural state for humans. It feels unnatural to me. Yes, we’re here to get away; and we brought along plenty of reading, some if it pretty educational—I can learn how to hook up the hoses to empty the tanks on this thing for example. But, without draining my data plan there’s no way to watch a video showing me how to do it to do it without risking exposure to e coli.
I can’t believe I’m complaining about connection withdrawal while checking email and firing up my iPass Hotspot Finder mobile app on my phone. Whining about no Wi-Fi—that’s the other greatest luxury.