A Technology Cynic Finally Gives The Flip Phone Another Go

The skin on my knuckles cracked and bled as I finished washing the last dish, a stinging end to a full day. The drone of work had relented to chasing my kids around, who now laid peacefully in their beds.



Before, I had picked up a litany of Legos and scattered children's books. And after drying my hands, I slumped into the couch. The day was done. So as the sun set and a quiet, solitary moment at last came, I did what so many of us do; I reached for screens.



Grabbing the remote, I turned on the TV-ostensibly to watch something-but instead indecisively scrolled. Doubling up, I whipped my phone out of my pocket for an extra-strength dose of new-fangled boredom destruction.



There, I received the latest round of bad news from several reputable sources, then looked up random, unconstructive facts on Wikipedia. What else was Johnny from Kobra Kai in? I then found my way to a few sites I always check-sometimes hour after hour-with my little pocket computer: the two telemark forums I obsess over; my blog analytics. Nothing had changed. If I had Instagram or Facebook on my phone, I may have been lost in that hypnosis for hours.



After a descending cycle of obsession, I felt compelled to break free from my smartphone. While I felt I kept a better distance from it than many, that wasn't saying much, and frankly, may have been delusional. Looking around-whether at the grocery store, riding the local mountain bike trails, or on the gondola-everyone was glued to their phone. And I couldn't keep mine in my pocket.



Chairlift rides went from blissful moments of nothingness to a constant need to play a song that matched the mood, text whoever I could think of, or simply catch up on the mundane. Powder days were filled with the need to be in contact with my whole crew. It was all too much, so I tried to opt out.

Beyond my current neurotic habits, nostalgia played a certain role in the decision. While I spent only my early childhood in the time before the internet, I clearly recall those rosy days pre-cell phone, and certainly before smartphones.



I remember being a kid during those summers where the only expectation was to be home by dinner and not play too much Nintendo 64. And I reminisce about the first texts I received on my flip phone from a woman I met nearly 15 years ago, who immediately stole my heart. I got antsy when I couldn't text her back for three days after a 3G tower blew down on the Front Range, rendering my flip-phone unusable, a small inconvenience then that today would be (perhaps wonderfully) cataclysmic.



I eventually got back to her to make plans for our first date. That winter, we skied day in, day out, linking up via the old Nokia that couldn't use the internet. Five years later, she would become my wife. All without a smartphone.



The necessity of the smartphone is easy to question, but it allows a range of tools that we now seem unable to live without. For us, those of us who enjoy the outdoors, it includes an array of useful information, like mapping apps that can give us clues on safe route finding or even snow coverage late into spring, while social media lets us share our spoils with the world, allowing some of us to enjoy wide influence, even a career as outdoor influencers.



But it also puts at our fingertips a passive use of time that too often takes the place of more meaningful experience. That has overexposed not only our trailheads but our own psyches, laying bare our need for connection and pursuit. Instead, we often lean on the ease of the internet, a place ill-equipped for purpose and enrichment.



So I took the plunge back into the old world. Truth be told, I picked an easy time to start-I deactivated my iPhone SE in favor of a new Nokia 2780 Flip during my paternity leave from work, a time when I would be close to home, blissfully unemployed, and focused on helping (maybe more being helped by) my wife, new baby, and toddler in our new reality.

Still, I read (on my smartphone) reviews on the less sophisticated one I had purchased. More than a few railed against its poor texting interface. Other reviewers panned the lack of features, saying the digital cat could, it turns out, not be put back in the bag. I worried I might find the same reality; that not only was I addicted to being connected, but that my outdoor pursuits would be hampered by not having GPS and mapping apps-that my photos would come out blurry and unflattering using my new phone.



I shouldn't have been so worried.



Leaving that distraction at home, I found a singularity of purpose in my outdoor pursuits. No watch, no fitness tracking, no need to show my mates something on the internet that popped into my head. It was liberating.



I even found solace in the first-day glitches, whena full twenty-four hours went by without my messaging. The cumbersome, nine-digit texting interface actually was a welcome respite from fumbling with voice-to-text. And I was more than fine without the internet, especially social media. The phone does not support Facebook and Instagram, but indeed has a rudimentary Google and Google Maps app. Luckily, they are difficult enough to use that I found little need to engage with them, and in weak moments when I tried, the long load times often gave me time to rethink and put my phone down.



The pros went beyond a renewed clarity being outside; even mundane tasks felt more alive, including a drive from my home in Steamboat to Denver to meet my mom and uncle for a Rockies game. Having never done the journey myself, I studied a map before I left. Then made zero wrong turns.

From an outdoors perspective, I still understand what at times seems like the necessity of having a smartphone. My elite-level athlete friends use Strava to its fullest. And tools like Gaia offer a breadth of information that is a valuable resource, even for safety. And I admittedly have kept my iPhone for use as a mini-tablet. The flip phone has been a respite, though an incomplete one.



Regardless, especially when outside, we often lean on the smartphone too much-for all the information and features they harbor, they distance us from the experience we're actually trying to have by digitizing it; by taking the unknown away from adventure and replacing it with data. By simply being a distraction.



And at its core, we go out there for other reasons.

About The Last Chair Column

This article was written by POWDER writer Jack O'Brien for his bi-weekly ‘Last Chair' column. Click below to read the previous column, A Magic Carpet Journey To Remember-Skiing With My Young Kids for the First Time?

Related: A Magic Carpet Journey To Remember-Skiing With My Young Kids for the First Time

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This story was originally published June 16, 2026 at 8:28 AM.