Are we rooted in Nevada?

The ash-spewing Icelandic volcano that grounded airplanes across much of Europe for several days prompted an interesting variety of reactions. The most common was frustration on the part of travelers who wanted to get from one place to another quickly. But there were other ways to look at the situation.

Seth Stevenson, writing in The New York Times this week, expressed disappointment that the skies soon would be full of jets again. The author of a book about a surface-level journey around the world, Stevenson argued that traveling by airplane isn't really traveling at all.

"Airplanes are a means of ignoring the spaces in between your point of origin and your destination," he wrote. "By contrast, a surface journey allows you to look out on those spaces -- at eye level and on a human scale, not peering down through breaks in the clouds from 35,000 feet above -- from the observation car of a rolling train or the deck of a gently bobbing ship. Surface transport can be contemplative, picturesque and even enchanting in a way that air travel never will be."

Stevenson is right that surface travel provides a richer experience than flying. Many times, I have flown from Las Vegas to some distant place without bothering to even try to glimpse anything through breaks in the clouds. Flying is fast and convenient, but there's little or no joy or education to be gained from it.

Driving a car certainly is slower than flying, but it offers untold opportunities to appreciate the landscape and interact with people along the way.

One of the big-picture problems we face in Nevada is the large percentage of people living here who possess little firsthand knowledge of the state. I've met many Las Vegans over the years who have never ventured by vehicle or foot beyond the confines of the metropolitan area. When they do leave town, they either get on a plane or race south on Interstate 15. How can you understand or appreciate the issues facing residents of Elko or Ely, Gardnerville or Goldfield if you've never set foot in those towns?

Nevada has many desolate patches, no question about it. But entering those vast empty spaces is an experience itself, as is discovering the little oases occasionally dotting the basin and range. I've had the good fortune of traveling across much of the state, and I retain vivid memories from those trips. I've traversed Lake Tahoe on a boat, photographed the glaciers outside Elko, toured the Lehman Caves at Great Basin National Park, ridden the train in Ely. I've eaten Basque food in Winnemucca and Elko, camped and fished near Pioche, played tourist in Virginia City. I have almost no memories of my time spent on airplanes.

Now, having argued the merits of surface travel over flying, I'm compelled to suggest another alternative: staying home. We've become such a restless culture -- always on the move, always antsy for the next adventure -- that staying home must appear lazy, boring or overly cautious.

But I wonder how many of those frustrated air travelers in Europe really, truly needed to get where they were planning to go. Some, to be sure, were stranded in a faraway place and needed to get home. But many, I suspect, found that they got along just fine without their flight.

My favorite book by Scott Russell Sanders, a leading environmental writer, is called "Staying Put." In it, he makes the case for living in one place for a long period, investing time and effort to make that place better.

It's not easy. Modern culture tells us we always must keep a bag packed, because we never know when opportunity might knock in a new place. There's truth in this sentiment, but as Sanders writes, there's also great value in resisting the "vagabond wind" and "learning to be at home."

"From the beginning, our heroes have been sailors, explorers, cowboys, prospectors, speculators, backwoods ramblers, rainbow-chasers, vagabonds of every stripe," Sanders writes. "Our Promised Land has always been over the next ridge or at the end of the trail, never under our feet."

But, he contends, good things come from those who resist this national mythology. "People who root themselves in places are likelier to know and care for those places," he says.

More rootedness is desperately needed in Las Vegas. Is there anyplace in this country that is more transient and temporary? We're flush with part-time residents and those who don't bother to get Nevada license plates because they'll be moving on soon.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not advocating that you cancel your summer vacation plans. Mine, for example, include a trip out of state. And for the sake of the sluggish local economy, one hopes record hordes of people will flock to Las Vegas to enjoy our touristy confections. But as we ponder what is to become of our community in the next decade, we might consider devoting more of our time and energy to making this a better place rather than perpetually pining for what's over the next ridge.

Geoff Schumacher (gschumacher@reviewjournal.com) is the Review-Journal's director of community publications. His column appears Friday.