Ann and I had an unusual vacation – unusual for us:  We didn’t do anything. We had sailed east to Vineyard Sound and into Buzzards Bay, spending some superbly tranquil days on the remote and untrammeled island of Cuttyhunk. But the weather was “challenging.” So we came home. And did nothing. And it was wonderful.

Those days that we spent just hanging out in the studio got me thinking about the power of “stopping.”  We are all so plugged in with our Crackberries and laptops and cellphones and emails and faxes.  It’s rare that any of us can actually disconnect and “stop.”  Stopping is counter-cultural. Being “busy”  is a badge of honor.

Part of the satisfaction for me of adventuring to remote places is disconnecting, going “off the grid.” It is refreshing to be out of touch and unreachable.  It is a time to be peaceful, a time to renew.  And many times, even on big expeditions, it is a time to stop.

When we stop, we don’t get things “done”, we don’t accomplish anything. Yet in the stopping, it is as if the jar of muddy water that is our mind settles, and we can see our way again.  That is the great paradox, isn’t it?  That in the act of stopping, we re-create.

Technology, of course, encroaches almost everywhere now. When I first travelled to the Great Ranges in the early ’90s, direct communication with the outside world was impracticable if not impossible.  If you needed to communicate, you sent a runner with a letter.  Sometimes other climbers would take a message out for you… or bring one in.  But otherwise, you were completely on your own.

When I was on Denali this past May, we carried a Sat phone not much bigger than a cell phone. The technology is amazing and it was re-assuring to know that if we needed to be in communication with the outside world, we could.  But it also took away from that sense of isolation that is part of the renewal.

And so as the corners of the globe become less remote, it seems all the more important to learn how to stop, even when we can’t escape.  It’s not a strong component in my skill set.  But it’s worth working on.

The image is from outside Reykjavik.  The still geothermal waters belie the formation and renewal of the earth that continues to unfold below.

Here’s to stopping more – along the paths of our adventures and every day.