Total cell phone coverage sounds like a great idea, but it’s affecting our view of the night sky and may change the way we interact in the backcountry.

During the 1960s and 70s, some conservationists suggested that the proliferation of huts and tracks would erode the remote nature of the backcountry. Tramping was becoming ‘too easy’. Thanks to persuasive lobbying by NGOs such as Federated Mountain Clubs, 11 designated wilderness areas were established, free from human infrastructure or the drone of helicopters. In places such as the Tasman, Olivine or Glaisnock wilderness areas, trampers can enjoy unbroken quiet and solitude – on nature’s terms of course.

Astronomers have been fighting for many years to protect the night sky too – the final frontier of wilderness. Thanks to their efforts, New Zealand is now home to two of the world’s 22 Dark Sky Sanctuaries – on Aotea Great Barrier Island and Rakiura Stewart Island – plus a dozen or so dark sky reserves and parks. 

But 80 per cent of Earth’s land mass is affected by light pollution. Researchers report that in New Zealand alone, light pollution increased by 37 per cent between 2012 and 2021. Councils nationwide have spent millions installing LED streetlights that interrupt circadian rhythms, overwhelm our wildlife and disrupt traditional navigation by the stars. 

So much light affects our view of the night sky. 

Other things are also impacting our view. In 2025 One NZ began using Starlink satellites to provide cell phone coverage to every corner of the country. Sounds good, right? But progress isn’t always beneficial, especially if it has an adverse effect on the environment. When I photograph the Milky Way, I must photoshop the images to remove the Starlink satellite trains from them. These bright, straight lines don’t belong in the heavens above. 

It’s not just our view of the night sky that is affected. Radio waves from satellites are blocking scientists’ ability to peer into the universe, interfering with faint signals from distant stars and galaxies, which may compromise the integrity of scientific discovery. 

Total cell phone coverage has implications for the outdoor community, too. The Kiwi tramping legacy is egalitarian and communal. Meeting other trampers is often a highlight of any trip. But in promising to connect us, will technology actually isolate us? Instead of crowding around a roaring fire sharing stories, will we lie in our bunks mindlessly scrolling our Facebook feeds, scratching the itch, feeding the addiction? Will we soon be bringing laptops into the hills? 

It feels important to me to define the blurred lines between recreation and work. Between meaningful human connections and technology. Between unbridled ‘progress’ and common sense. 

Perhaps it’s time to unplug, to detox, to wash our souls in the wilderness. We can lead by example, by welcoming strangers, starting conversations, sharing food and engaging with fellow humans in this increasingly isolated world.