Communications breakdown

One. That's the number of cell phone towers I've seen here in the mountains of southwestern Virginia. (Leonard tells me that what I was looking at wasn't really a cell tower. I choose to continue my delusional thinking for now.) We knew before arriving at Mt. Rogers that keeping in touch with family and friends during our stay here would be challenging because of the remote, mountainous nature of the place. Little did we know just how challenging it would be. 

In southwestern Virginia, the landline

is a lifeline to the outside world.

For the curious among you, here's a breakdown of our communications capabilities, or, rather, the current lack thereof.

Phone calls:

Remember land lines? Pay phones? We're fast becoming reacquainted with these dinosaurs of electronic connectivity. With cell service requiring “line of sight” access to signals, it's nearly impossible to find a decent cell signal amidst all those lovely Virginia mountaintops and valleys. While our Verizon phones worked well in other rural areas – nobody beats Verizon's coverage area in the U.S. - even the best phone cannot manufacture a cell signal where none exists.

After two weeks spent chasing rumors like, “There was a guy once who said he got his cell phone to work at [insert name of remote hillside lookout here],” we have come to accept the fact that the closest reliable service is 13 miles away at the lone gas station/general store in Whitetop.

Good thing we have a backup system, something we began using while in Costa Rica. Skype, an Internet-based platform that turns our laptops, desktops and tablets into telephones, works really well, provided you have Internet access. This brings me to my next section.

Internet:

This tent serves as a wilderness-style Internet café. It is a 10-minute
walk from the RV and our closest connection.

Apparently “surfing the 'net” isn't a big priority in these parts. A few places provide access, including the above-mentioned gas station/general store as well as the local library. It's a pain in the rump to have to drive 30 miles over a mountain and back just to check e-mail.

Happily, we discovered - after a series of inquiries to people who knew of its existence but weren't sure it was okay to divulge the secret - that our campground does have Internet. The campground is managed by a Forest Service contractor, Cradle of Forestry in America, so router access is restricted to the camp hosts who volunteer for that organization. We seem to have endeared ourselves enough to those folks that they decided to share their secret. (We just can't let any of the non-volunteer campers know about it.)
 

Signal boosters for Wi-Fi and cell phones

can  improve a connection but can't create one.

Before arriving at Mt. Rogers, Leonard and I subscribed to Netflix' streaming service so we could catch up on some of the movies and television series we'd missed out on while living in Costa Rica. (Who knew a show about early 20th-century British aristocracy and their servants could be so funny?) With no Internet in the rig, we've had to go “low tech” on this as well, returning to the old system of DVD mail order. It's better than nothing, especially given that our campground doesn't have cable. This brings me to my last segment for the week.

Television:

Two. That's the number of on-air stations we can get using the TV antenna that came with our rig. (In point of fact, we get a signal for four channels, only two of which are viewable at any given time.) Before you say, “Oh my God, how do you stand it!” know that this is two more channels than anyone else here gets using their antennas.

Most camp hosts here have satellite TV. We decided not to indulge simply because we're not big TV watchers. Even if we had a dish, given the number of trees surrounding our RV site, we probably couldn't pick up a signal for that either.
 

So there you go. The very things that attract some of us to wilderness living – experiencing nature up close, leaving traffic and crowds behind, vibrating at a lower level – sometimes come at a price, that price being limited access to the outside world.
 

I think the benefits of this lifestyle far outweigh the detriments. Besides, if we find we can no longer live with so much isolation, we can always roll on down the road to a circumstance that better suits us. (Wasn't that the point of moving to an RV in the first place?)
 

As for Leonard, well, let's just say he's had a little harder time coping, though it appears he may have taken up a new hobby. Last I saw the man he was headed out the door carrying a roll of aluminum foil and strips of duct tape and muttering...something about making a helmet.