Not long ago an acquaintance asked me for my cell phone number and nearly fell over when I casually mentioned I’ve never owned one of the gadgets.

“But what happens if you’re on a mountain somewhere and get lost?” he asked, undoubtedly aware of my passion for outdoor adventure and possibly cognizant of my proclivity for straying off the beaten path.

“Well, I’d have to find my way back to civilization,” I replied.

“But what if you couldn’t; let’s say you broke your leg or got caught in a blizzard?” he persisted.

I shrugged.

“Guess I’d die.”

He shook his head and probably made a mental note never to accompany me on a stroll in the park, let alone an expedition to the hinterlands.

I thought about that conversation the other day after hearing that the National Transportation Safety Board had recommended that drivers’ use of all cellphones, even hands-free models, be banned, along with such related practices as texting and emailing.

I, of course, think this is a wonderful suggestion, having been forced to swerve on more than on occasion by idiot drivers preoccupied with their electronic devices, but the reaction among most motorists has been predictably antipathetic. You’d think the government had proposed outlawing electricity or indoor plumbing.

But before I wander too far on the topic of cellphones in cars, let me get back on track – after all, the name of this dispatch is The Great Outdoors, not Behind the Wheel.

While I’m not advocating any laws be passed prohibiting hikers or paddlers from using cellphones, and also acknowledge there are times when the ability to communicate with the outside world comes in handy, I nonetheless find them objectionable in the wild, for two reasons.

First of all, from an esthetic viewpoint, nothing shatters the magical ambiance of a wilderness experience more than an overheard cellphone conversation, which I’ve chronicled in the past. On one occasion I clambered to a breathtaking summit only to find a hiker perched on a rock animatedly describing the scene on his Bluetooth; another time, while serving as a temporary winter caretaker in a mile-high hut in New Hampshire’s White Mountains I had to politely ask a guest who decided to call home to take the conversation outside. Never mind that it was snowing to beat the band, 20 degrees, the wind howled and the sun had set hours earlier – rules are rules, and some of the other hikers were glancing unhappily in his direction.

To his credit the caller apologized, threw on his parka and resumed his conversation while huddled in the lee of the wooden cabin.

There was no life-or-death reason the hiker had to make the call; he simply wanted to reassure his wife that he had arrived safely and was now hunkered down for the night. On the one hand this is an admirably considerate gesture; on the other, it’s a tether.

An interesting conundrum, best left to individual sensibilities.

My principle objection to cellphone-aided adventure, though, is that the Nokia-carrying hiker or paddler can become lulled into a false sense of security. He or she pushes beyond safe conditions thinking if something bad happened help would only be a call away. Then, of course, he doesn’t exactly wind up like the guy in the Verizon commercial: “Can you hear me now?”

On a related note, hikers who simply get tired or hungry have been known to summon assistance on their cells. You can guess how I feel about them.

I know I’m going to anger some people who have been rescued after summoning help on their cells – I’ve even written about them in the past, non-judgmentally, but on balance still believe the devices do more harm than good.

Now, back to general use of cellphones. I’ve abstained from ownership not because of any crazed-Luddite attitudes, but because I’m a cheapskate, and also find for the most part talking on the phone distracting. When I’m walking on the sidewalk or in the woods I like to look around at other people or at the flora and fauna; people on cellphones don’t do that – which is why the NTSB wants drivers to stop using them. When your conversing on a phone, even a hands-free one, you’re not paying attention to your surroundings, and cells have been blamed for countless crashes.

But before any friends accuse me of hypocrisy, since I’ve been known to borrow their phones, let me quickly point out that they are often useful. Trouble is, the old pay phones I used to rely on have gone the way of the dodo.

So, I suppose one of these days if I ever run out of friends I’ll break down and join the 21st century. Maybe by then they’ll have perfected telepathic communication.