Adventures in Packing (how to load a backpack)

Let’s get one thing out of the way: I’m a pack rat. Always have been. But somehow over the past couple of years, I managed to pare my “necessary” belongings down to what I can carry on my back.

Still, it’s too much! I can’t walk far with all this weight. Even after dumping all my winter clothes (some of the stuff in that video didn’t end up making the cut), my pack is big enough that old guys comment on it. For some reason, it’s always the old guys.

“That’s a heck of a pack,” they say, smirking.

“Tell me about it,” I usually reply, feeling a mix of resentment and shame (note: old guys never help you with your pack, either).

To be honest, I’m proud of myself. I’ve got a house, bed, kitchen and full closet on my back, thank you. And I’m getting better at this all the time. I repeat to myself over and over the lesson I’m working on:

“My greatest skill in life has been to want but little.” – Thoreau

I supplement that with this passage from Rolf Potts’ book Vagabonding: An Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-Term World Travel, my current bible:

[A] small pack, of course, will allow you only the minimum: a guidebook, a pair of sandals, standard hygiene items, a few relevant medicines (including sunscreen), disposable earplugs (for those inevitable noisy environments), and a few gifts for your future hosts and friends. Add a few changes of simple, functional clothes and one somewhat nice outfit for customs checks and social occasions. Toss in a good pocketknife, a small flashlight, a decent pair of sunglasses, a day pack… and an inexpensive camera. And then—looking down to make sure you have a sturdy pair of boots or walking shoes on your feet—close the bag and affix a small, strong padlock.

Would that I were already in Asia, so I could stay in hotels like Rolf Potts does! But I’m in America, and so I’m still carrying a tent. Too, I brought extra clothes so I can throw them away as they wear out. And a laptop so I can entertain y’all (though I traded in my heavy 15-incher for an Asus 1000he). And, okay, a rubber chicken (The Navigator).

I can carry it all, and I do. And every place I go I leave some worn out, used-up or unneccessary item behind… By the time I get through Central America, I’ll be packing lean. For now, I’m still a rat.

But at least I’m a rat in summer clothes!