How AI is like driving to the overlook

Over the holidays, my family and I had the opportunity to stay on the McKenzie River in Central Oregon. I love that area - the lush ancient forests, the wide open sky, the rugged volcanic rock. Being just a few miles south of Blue Pool, I was excited to return to that spot after mountain biking the trail 30 years ago, and was eager to share the beauty with my family and friends. 

Our plan was to drive the five-ish miles to the trailhead and do an out and back hike to the pool itself - another 5 miles or so. But on our drive, reflecting on my daughter's morning grump and resistance to hiking, I noticed a forest road on the map (NFD740) that would allow us to drive directly to the Blue Pool and see it from above. 

The topo map showing the overlook road, NFD740, and the McKenzie River Trail following the river

For a brief moment, I considered shifting gears and driving to the overlook - it had just started snowing, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to manage more negativity from the added weather challenge. But I pushed the thought aside, stuck with plan A, and donned my raingear at the trailhead.

Crossing the lower part of the river on the McKenzie River Trail

The trail began in a beautiful old growth forest, following the river upstream. As we climbed, the mud pits deepened and the trail went from soft and earthy to rough and rocky.

We started together as a group, talking, laughing, exploring. But part way through the hike, after a bit of a dog kerfuffle, I stayed back a bit. We both needed some space, and I was grateful for the time to be alone and let nature soothe my system. It was during this time that I made the connection between AI and that short-cut overlook.

Before the hike, I’d been grappling with my AI usage. In some ways, I love it. It’s helped me with meal planning (which I really don't like). It’s helped with thought partnership for my business (solopreneuring sucks sometimes). And in moments of overwhelm, it’s helped remind me of how resourced I actually am (definitely not therapy, but certainly therapeutic).

But as a committed climate advocate, the environmental costs worry me: high water and energy usage, excessive e-waste, and the reality that AI and clean energy compete for the same critical materials. 

AI has great potential to help address climate change and naturally, I really hope it does. But to increase that likelihood, we need to remember the importance of human growth and development, and prioritize the conditions that make that possible. 

Puddle-hopping and soggy shoes builds important neural pathways.

Making the effort and hiking the trail - traversing rock, puddle-hopping, and wayfinding in the elements - builds physical muscle, neural pathways, and metaphorical character. Soggy shoes and chilly fingers, dog scuttles and interpersonal conflict, create the contexts for self-reflection and improvement. Movement, solitude and authentic connection to our natural surroundings give rise to insightful realizations and ideas. Sometimes moving at the speed of our bodies - and no faster- is exactly what we need to make progress.

I'm not suggesting we abandon AI entirely - that ship has sailed, and the technology does have potential benefits. But as we integrate it into our lives at breakneck speed, we need to ask: What are we losing? What skills are atrophying? What connections are we missing?

On the trail, we passed other hikers - muddy, breathless, and grinning. We connected eye to eye, and exchanged knowing smiles. And those momentary connections left me with something I never could have accessed from a car at an overlook: the shared experience of effort, and the recognition of being human together in the elements.

Sometimes the overlook is the right choice. But if we never take the trail, we risk losing the capacity to tackle complex problems, to think creatively, and to stay connected to what makes us human - the very capacities that help us address the challenges ahead, like climate change.

Blue Pool was stunning. 
And getting there on foot, with cold fingers and muddy shoes, made all the difference.

The Blue Pool from the trail overlook