PROLOGUE

In which theory gives way to practice, possessions are judged, and an alarming amount of our former lives fails to fit into a backpack

Up to this point, The Grand Detour has mostly consisted of ideas. Plans. Spreadsheets. Reservations. Lists. More spreadsheets. The nagging certainty that we’ve missed something.

This is, of course, all very rational and civilized.  Like it or not, though, there eventually comes a point in any grand plan when one is expected to stop moving little colored boxes around on a screen and actually Do Something.  And, of course, that point finally arrived.

THE GREAT DOWNSIZING

For us, that first Something was taking all the stuff we’ve accumulated over the decades and dividing said stuff into the following categories:

• Take It Along
• Store It
• Sell It
• Gift It
• Trash It

Shannon and I have accumulated a normal lifetime quantity of stuff.  Possibly a little more than normal.  Perhaps, in at least one category, an amount that could be described as “clinically concerning”.*

There is something both stressful and freeing about preparing to travel indefinitely with carry-on luggage while standing in a house containing furniture, kitchenware, clothes, tools, electronics, books, decorations, memorabilia, and a massive boardgame collection.

Everything suddenly has to justify itself.

• Do we love it?
• Will we use it again?
• Would it be expensive or impossible to replace?
• Does one of the kids want it?

And, most importantly:

• Do we care about this object enough to pay money every month for the privilege of continuing not to use it?

This was a profoundly clarifying question.  Once we started looking at our stuff as subscription-based, we started seeing a lot more of it as “optional”.

Some things were obvious keepers (photos!); some were obvious get-rid-of-ers (120 volt electronics!)…

…and some sat smugly on tables while we stared at them and attempted to determine whether sentimental attachment is really an adequate justification for transporting some impractically fragile object from one storage location to another several times.  Sometimes it is.  Go figure.

WHAT WE'RE TAKING

At the opposite end of the problem is the stuff that comes with us.

Naturally, if one is going to reduce one’s possessions to a tiny number of objects, one immediately becomes intensely interested in those objects, and this is how otherwise normal** adults end up watching twenty-seven-minute YouTube videos comparing the zipper geometry of backpacks.

We have put entirely too much thought into luggage, shoes, socks, chargers, adapters, phones, laptops, headphones, travel routers, cables, packing cubes, power banks, and various other artifacts of modern nomadic civilization.

Our general rule has been to favor things that are light, durable, and multipurpose.

Replaceable is also important.  There is little point in owning the Perfect Travel Object if losing it in Bali  means spending three months scouring specialist websites and arranging an international dead drop to replace it.

We want good stuff, sure, but we don’t want sacred relics.

Our original ambition was carry-on only.  That means we’d each carry one carry-on sized bag and one “personal item” sized bag.  So we chose what to take, then we packed our stuff.

And it was too much stuff.

So we culled.  Significantly.  Multiple times.  And yet, even with every little luxury (and several non-luxuries) culled, it still wouldn’t all fit.

The real problem, it turned out, was me.***  I’m 6’6”, around 300 lbs., with size 14 (US) shoes.  This means that each of my garments is approximately the same size as a medieval arming tent.  And just to add a bit more complication, I use a CPAP machine at night, and that adds its own bulk to the packing as well.  (Travel CPAP devices exist, but they cost around a thousand bucks, USD, so we opted to live with the bulk.)

So we hit Macy’s and bought one hard-sided spinner bag that we’ll need to check whenever we fly.  That made the whole packing process significantly simpler, and it turns out we can loop the side handles of the two larger bags over the extended handle of the spinner, thus making a rolling stack that’s much easier to maneuver around an airport or hotel.

And that's more or less it.

Everything we expect to need for months of travel through tropical heat, cool weather, cities, beaches, ships, trains, airplanes, restaurants, laundromats, and whatever climatic personality disorder Southeast Asia eventually chooses to inflict upon us has to fit into those bags.

This creates a certain ruthlessness; everything needs to coexist relatively harmoniously.

Anything included merely because “it might be useful someday” is immediately confronted with the mathematical reality that so might dozens of other things which each also consume precious grams and cubic centimeters.****

This meant I had to store my remaining several-hundred-game board game collection, despite my entirely reasonable suggestion that perhaps we could transport it behind us via mule train.******

Clothes have to be reasonably comfortable, reasonably presentable, quick enough to dry, and capable of surviving repeated encounters with unfamiliar washing machines whose controls might have been labeled by Tamarians.*******

Layering will be involved, laundry will be frequent, and fashion will repeatedly be asked to make sacrifices for the greater good.

History will judge us.

THE COMPLEAT PACKING LIST

For anyone curious about exactly what two people apparently need in order to wander around the planet for an indefinite period, here is the starting inventory. We fully expect future experience to reveal that some of these choices were brilliant, some were idiotic, and at least one vitally important object is currently sitting forgotten in a storage unit in Oregon.

The Bags

• Osprey Farpoint 40L Extended Backpack — My main bag. The shoulder straps zip away under a flap so it can masquerade as respectable hand luggage, and the “Extended” bit means it is designed for people whose torsos have exceeded normal factory specifications.
• Osprey Daylite Plus 20L Backpack — My personal-item bag, containing the Chromebook, a power bank, and the other assorted things I want accessible while traveling.
• Osprey Fairview 55L Backpack — Shannon’s main bag, which is really a 40L backpack wearing a detachable 15L backpack as its own backpack. Backpackception, if you will. Separated, the big one becomes her carry-on and the little one her personal item. Slick.
• Travelpro WalkAbout 7 Medium Hardside Spinner — Our concession to checked baggage. It also provides a surface upon which to accumulate souvenir stickers until it eventually develops what we hope will be a pleasingly battered old-fashioned steamer-trunk aesthetic.

Jake’s Clothing

• Shirts x5 (mostly aloha-styled rayon)
• Long pants x2 (linen)
• Shorts
• Socks x5 (ankle-length merino wool)
• Gentleman’s Unmentionables x7
• Zippered hoodie
• Panama hat (for bald spot sun protection)
• Linen jacket and matching slacks (for occasions requiring the pretense of civilization)
• Swim trunks
• Rash-guard shirt and pants
• Old slides (for beaches, showers, etc.)
• Comfortable walking shoes
• Also: my glasses, an analog watch, and a hidden wear-it-under-your-shirt passport-holding neck thingie whose proper name I will presumably remember approximately four minutes after publishing this.********

Shannon’s Clothing

• Tops x7
• Pants x3
• Shorts
• Skirt
• Dress
• Leggings
• Long-sleeved shirt
• Sweater
• Tank top
• Sports bra
• Socks x6
• Lady’s Unmentionables x6
• Nightgown
• Swimsuit
• Cover-up
• Also: a pair of primary sandals, a pair of crappy sandals, a pair of sneakers, a visor, a pair of sunglasses, regular glasses, reading glasses, and a purse.

Electronics and Associated Sorcery

• Google Pixel smartphones x2
• Samsung Chromebook with Travel Mouse
• Kindle Scribe Colorsoft
• USB-C cables
• Universal travel adapters x2 (these are slick because they plug in just about anywhere in the world and have several USB and USB-C ports, so we don’t need to carry a bunch of chargers)
• Small power bank x2
• Fire TV Stick
• GL-iNet travel router
• CPAP machine
• Shannon’s headphone/headband contraption
• Shannon’s earbuds.

Paperwork, Money, and Things Governments Like

• Passport x2
• U.S. driver’s licenses x2
• International driving permit
• Military ID
• Credit and debit cards
• Jake’s Yellow Card vaccination record
• Assorted other important paperwork gathered together in a document pouch whose disappearance would produce language unsuitable for publication.

Laundry, Toiletries, and Maintenance of the Human Organism

• Laundry bag
• Detergent sheets
• Fabric-softener sheets
• Stain-treatment soap
• Three-strand woven rubber travel clothesline
• Toiletries
• Prescription and over-the-counter medications

Entertainment and Miscellaneous Objects We Apparently Consider Essential

• GAMES Magazine issues x5
• Paper maps of the next three places we’re going without supervision (New Zealand, Bali, and Malaysia/Singapore)
• Pencils x2
• Pens x2
• Red Sharpie for drawing on aforementioned paper maps
• Deck of perfectly ordinary playing cards
• Several small games
• Clip-on flashlight
• Travel utensils

And emergency chopsticks.

Obviously.

WHAT WE'RE STORING

We know that we’re going to ship some stuff to wherever we end up living.  (Some YouTube expats extoll the virtues of getting rid of everything but two suitcases worth of stuff and then rebuying what you need upon arrival, but as a long-standing giant, I’ve got a giant computer chair, a giant recliner, giant shoes… these things are at least marginally less likely to be easily found in, say, Thailand or the Philippines, I reckon, so I’m planning on shipping ‘em.)  We’ve done our research on ballpark shipping costs, and we’re limiting ourselves to a single 20’ shipping container worth of stuff (both to keep costs down and because we don’t want to immediately convert our new, likely smaller home — wherever that may be — into a hoarder’s den).  To that end, we’ve secured a 10’ x 15’ climate controlled storage unit, and if it doesn’t fit in there, we don’t own it any more.

Once that decision was made, getting rid of things became progressively easier.  The first sentimental object is difficult.  The twentieth is less difficult.  By the hundredth, one begins stalking around the house like a deranged minimalist shouting “DOES THIS SPARK JOY?” at extension cords.

(We ended up with some extra space in the storage unit, even.  Not a lot of extra space.  But some!)

LEAVING HOME

As dates do, eventually the theoretical departure date became an actual date.

Mail was forwarded, garbage service was cancelled, and the refrigerator was emptied via a strange yet eminently practical series of rather novel meal combinations.  Possessions disappeared into storage, cars, thrift stores, friends' houses, and the bizarre and mysterious ecosystem of Facebook Marketplace.

Rooms developed echoes.

There is something deeply peculiar about watching a place stop being one’s home while one is still living in it.

First the pictures disappear, then the shelves empty, then the furniture goes.  Eventually there is nothing left but luggage, cleaning supplies, and two thoroughly exhausted people wondering why the house contains approximately one hundred twelve thousand more small objects than anyone remembers purchasing.

There was also a bit of adventure surrounding swapping one U-Haul truck for another when we discovered that rain turned the first into more of a mobile aquarium than a means by which one might preserve the structural integrity of one’s possessions.

And then we handed over the keys.

That's the point where the whole project changed.

Before that moment, The Grand Detour was something we were planning to do.  Afterward, it was simply what we were doing, ready or not.  We no longer had a home waiting for us on the Oregon coast or anywhere else.  We had backpacks.  Reservations.  Passports.  A frankly unreasonable quantity of prescription medication.  And somewhere up the road, a train.

And so we made our last visits to friends and family, and then… we left.*********

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* Yes, of course it’s boardgames.

** -ish.

*** The reader may become used to this phrase in the months to come.

**** The reader may note how metric-fluent the author is pretending to be.  The fact that the US is the last major power clinging to one of the worst possible systems of measurement is eternally irksome.  And we don’t even use our own crappy system in a sane or sane-adjacent manner!*****  I would say “don’t get me started”, but now I’m already started.  Bah!  Bah, I tell you!

***** As an example, the author directs the reader’s attention to the diabolical and customer-hostile concept of “dimensional lumber”.

****** This proposal received significantly less institutional support than anticipated.

******* If the reader is unaware, this is a (completely unnecessary) Star Trek: the Next Generation reference.  The Tanagrans were the “Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra” aliens.  If that fails to mean anything to the reader, a quick Google should provide the relevant context.  If, on the other hand, the reader already knew that and understood the reference, bonus points shall be awarded.

******** “Anti-Theft Neck Wallet”, it seems.

********* Sincere congratulations to the reader for managing to persist through every sort of pedantic preamble the author could conceivably attach to this blog before getting to the actual meat of the thing.  Coming up next: Actual travel!