I lived in a camper van with no phone or internet for 30 days. I felt at peace but craved human connection.

• I spent 30 days off the grid in the Outback in my camper van to cure my smartphone dependence.
• I was hoping the experience would change my relationship with technology.

Since 2015, I have spent most of my time traveling around Australia with my cat in a camper van. In fact, if it weren't for these travels, I would never have met my wife, Steph. While I've had the freedom to do and see whatever I want during this time, I was becoming increasingly dependent on my smartphone and internet access.

During the day, every notification had my attention, and at night, my eyes were sore from the endless scrolling. What was once a lifeline to the outside world now felt like a shackle, robbing me of the experience of travel.

I had one question: Who was I without my smartphone? So I decided to break free from the digital leash and spend a month alone in the Australian Outback without internet access. What I discovered during this journey surprised me.

After 1,500 miles on the road, I arrived at a lake and the reception bars on my phone disappeared

I was in remote Queensland over 500 miles from the coast, and I had arrived to find the lake dry. Fortunately, there was a small creek nearby with some water in it.

With the nearest shop over 100 miles away, I had packed the van with all the supplies needed for a month away: fruit and vegetables, canned food, and a big bag of cat food.

Willow, my trusty feline traveling companion, reminded me that I wasn't entirely alone through this experience, but as I took in the raw beauty of the landscape, I questioned what I was even doing out there.

I set up camp by the lake, and as the dingoes howled, I felt a sense of isolation creeping in. The absence of internet access was palpable, and I was confronted with my own thoughts and emotions. It was a stark reminder of how dependent I had become on the digital world for distraction and entertainment.

As the weeks rolled by, I experienced a deep sense of peace, but an emptiness dwelled within me

I became attuned to the rhythms of nature: the changing light, the grazing cattle, and the iron-blood scent of the Outback. I learned to make do with fewer resources, rationing water and food, and found joy in cooking meals.

Away from the commotion of modern life, I found a stillness, but I would catch myself subconsciously reaching for my phone. Without any awareness, I would find the phone in my hand with my thumb ready to scroll. The reflex was to reach for the comfort of mindless browsing, but this made me question what I was really reaching for.

The Outback is not devoid of people, and when the mail carrier on his 300-mile mail run spotted my camp, he came over to say hello. Suddenly, I had a link to the outside world, and I began to think about what I had truly left behind.

I wrote a letter to my best friend telling him I was alive and well and that I wanted him to let Steph know I missed her. When the mail carrier returned two weeks later, I handed him the letter as he told me about the world beyond the gum-tree-lined creek of my camp.

As far as self-experiments go, this one was pretty silly

As my month in the Outback drew to a close, I realized that I had triumphed in my exercise in solitude. But the achievement of spending 30 days off the grid by myself meant nothing when I had no one to share the experience with.

As I drove back toward civilization, the phone reception returned and I called Steph, who was overseas, to tell her I loved her. It took me awhile to process my time away, and I would love to say that it cured my smartphone dependence, but it did not. Instead, I've begun to realize that when I reach for my phone, it's the human connection I'm craving — not the technology.

Nowadays, I find myself putting more effort into being a part of the communities we travel through and keeping in better contact with my friends. It's important to have time to disconnect from the world, but as I discovered, the value of technology is that it can bring us all together.

Richard East and his wife, Steph, are still traveling around Australia with their cat. East shares their travel stories with Willow on his website www.vancatmeow.com.