Calling the troops In

My son, husband, and I started watching Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman’s documentary Long Way Round. I’ve always wanted to see the series, and this feels like the right time to watch and pick up a few pointers. What struck me immediately was how they gathered a team to help with every level of preparation. The first two episodes are fascinating. Good for them.

It made me wonder whether it might be smarter, and less anxiety-inducing, to recruit some friends and family to help me organise myself.

On one level, packing two check-in bags with everything from a winter parka to long underwear, safety shoes, and possibly the kitchen sink is something I’ve done countless times—more or less successfully. There have been occasional moments when I’ve arrived without socks or other necessary items. But hey, who’s counting?

Still, you could say I’m a dinosaur when it comes to my “winging it” approach to travel prep. My method is minimal: focus on the bare necessities—tickets, passport, driving licence, credit cards, phone, laptop, chargers and cables, and the contact information of someone who can help in an emergency. A bathing suit and sandals if I’m flying somewhere warm. Some turtlenecks and a jacket if it’s somewhere cold. Everything else is extra, and I try not to sweat it.

This means I carry all my essentials in my carry-on and everything else in the checked bags.

The reason I adopted such a pared-back approach is because I’ve often flown to places where there was only one flight a week from Germany. Or I’d arrive and go straight on board a boat, setting sail as soon as the tides were good. So, I learnt never to get too attached to what was packed in the checked luggage.

But times have changed.

This is where my daughter and son have shown me there’s a better way. They’ve made packing a science. Everything they bring has to be useful, add to their comfort or safety, or fall into a category I now call “heighten the experience.”

An example: my son once brought his own face mask and flippers to Thailand. Considering he only took carry-on, you might wonder why he’d use up precious space. But anyone who has snorkelled on reefs full of sea life knows how a leaking mask or badly fitting flippers can ruin the moment.

I’ve adopted their way of packing and started what I’m calling the KonMari Method for travel. I’m slowly and methodically building a pile of gear in the middle of our guest room. Next, I’ll hold each item in my hands and ask whether it’s useful, adds comfort, or will heighten the experience. The rest I’ll set aside to see if there’s room left at the end. I’ll probably feel a bit silly doing this, but if it works for Marie Kondo’s millions of followers, maybe it will work for me too.

I’ve been told to pay attention to what goes in which piece of luggage. My carry-on will hold all the essentials, along with warm-tech wear, medicine for seasickness, and the equipment I’ll need for recording podcasts, blogging, and drawing. For the two checked bags, I’ll divide everything as evenly as possible. That way, though it’s unlikely since I’m flying directly from Hamburg to Amsterdam, if one of them gets lost, I’ll still manage just fine.

Since we will most likely leave Rotterdam shortly after arrival, I’m not sure it’s worth putting a tracker in the luggage. Maybe I’ll do it anyway.

And then there are those who have kindly helped me create checklists. Many thanks to Sara, Andrea, Beate, and ChatGPT. It took a lot to overcome my natural reticence to ask others for help. Or maybe it’s a kind of false vanity, priding myself on knowing what I need to bring.

But it only took the first episode of Long Way Round to remind me of something obvious. Calling in the troops is not about needing rescue. It’s about letting people take part in the adventure, even in small ways, and allowing their support to carry me forward.