3 Lessons Learned From 22 Years of Luggage

... And do backpacks really deserve a funeral? Here's what I've learned while sorting through all my suitcases and backpacks.

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Admittedly not the best photo - Ebenezer checks out the "new" suitcase.

This winter, Ryan went on a friends' trip to the Dominican Republic. He had everything he needed for a week of sun, sand, and surf - everything except one thing: A suitcase.

Upon learning that his friend planned to check a suitcase, Ryan decided he would do so as well. After all, he'd be hanging around the carousel waiting for his friend's bag. Might as well check one as well and have all the benefits that come with a bigger bag (namely the ability to take along sunscreen unencumbered by carry on restrictions and sufficient shirts to eliminate the need for sink laundry.) There was just one problem. We didn't actually own a mid-sized suitcase. Thankfully, his friend could loan one from his own collection. 

Ebenezer makes himself at home with one of our earliest suitcases.

The irony of us not having the right suitcase isn't lost on me. I have been obsessive about packing for, well, forever, so much so that I sometimes wonder if it's travel I like or the art of packing. I've been condescending towards anyone who checks a bag. I've scoffed at people who have packed anything I deem unnecessary. (Note to everyone who packs a hair straightener. I get it now). I've sent late night text messages to friends as I've been boarding planes. "Let me tell you about how disorganized the person in front of me is". (Okay, that admittedly is pretty fun and I probably won't stop.)

Along the way, I've accumulated a lot of bags and my closet was starting to protest. Add in  Clover the dog's dust mite allergy, which has necessitated deep cleaning every space in our home to eliminate mite-motels, and you've got a good motivation to sort through 22 years of travel gear. Here's what I've learned from it.

Successfully sold online. Used the proceeds to buy lunch. Old backpack = new French fries? Win!

There's no such thing as a perfect bag. Just about everything we own is a response to trying to tweak and improve upon small annoyances in our first bags. As such, we have backpacks with no structure and organization and backpacks that are nothing but structure and organization (ie, way too many useless pockets and pouches). There are day bags which are too small to comfortably fit in all we need for a day at the beach and day bags which will do all that, and more, and thus are too big to really be useful. We have lightweight bags with wheels that are going to pop off any day now when we hit a curb and we have sturdy bags that could survive anything but are really heavy and neither of them will fit in the old overhead bins of the ancient Porter fleet that I often find myself on. 

In hindsight, we could have saved ourselves a lot of space, time, and money if we just accepted that every bag will have its annoyances. By all means, if you realize you need something different, please switch up your bag! But if you're chasing "just 10% better", save your money. 

Remember when I reviewed the North Face Verto 26 day bag? Yep, it's the day bag that was just too big. Happy to say that we sold this practically unused bag on Poshmark for $20.

I'm a bad blogger. I didn't take a photo of the bag but this internet photo is pretty darn close.

My 2018 Eagle Creek bag looks similar to the old MEC bag and it's sticking around.

Suitcase sentiment is real. When I lived in Malawi and Ireland (around 2003-2004), I relied on a backpack that was once extremely popular at MEC (Mountain Equipment Coop). It was designed as a proper backpack, complete with an adjustable aluminum frame, but you could also tuck the straps away via a hidden flap, making the bag suitable for airport check in. It came with small daypack which conveniently clipped onto the front of the main backpack, something I found VERY CRAFTY indeed. My bag was likely the "Supercontinent" model or its precursor but that knowledge is now long lost to me. Let me tell you, I carried A LOT in that bag.

I also haven't carried that bag in over twenty years. When Ryan and I took our first "real" trip together (to Hawaii in 2010), I had to come to terms with the fact that there was a method of travel that didn't involve backpacking. Case in point: I honestly assumed we'd stay in the youth hostel in Waikiki and just walk everywhere? We ended up in a Hilton and rented a Ford Mustang convertible! We had to get "real" suitcases and that meant generic carryon bags from a store in the mall. Ryan still has his - or he did until last week. It was one of the bags we have decided to donate. Mine is long gone but its matching personal sized item tote remains, a bag we picked up after Hawaii in an effort to "solve" some luggage problem or another.  Now it's in the donation pile as well.

​And my MEC bag? I'm not sure if we even can donate it. It's truly starting to fall apart. But boy my heart was heavy when I had to make that decision. I felt like I needed to give that bag a funeral. I felt like the world needed to know that it was A VERY GOOD BAG and I felt guilty for saying goodbye. Folks, it was HARD. However, Ryan sagely reminded me....

My Osprey Porter 46 bag with me in Stockholm, 2016.

"You're not that traveller any more." He's right. I'm not. I'm not moving to Africa. I'm not backpacking around Ireland. I'm not living out of a pack anymore. I'm just not travelling that way anymore and it hurts both to admit that a chapter of my life has passed and also to admit that I don't miss it. Turns out, there's plenty about long haul backpacking that I really don't miss! 

I couldn't quite cut the cord with every bag. The Osprey Porter 46 bag (which served me incredibly well for many a trip in my early blogging days) is sticking around, demoted to camping supply bag (our previous camping bag got the boot) My TravelPro spinner suitcase, the darling of all serious travellers that I have become increasingly annoyed with, is also sticking around. It cost a fortune and its quality is excellent so we're going to see if we can eke more life out if it (aka, Ryan will probably use it now).

Ryan, also in Stockholm and also with his Osprey Porter 46 bag but this time it's 2014.

The end result? My closet can breath, our donation pile is growing, and I have clarity on what kind of traveller I am and not just who I imagine myself to still be. It's been cathartic and I realize there are a lot of things I no longer care about, like trying to find the perfect suitcase that allows me cosplay fanciness when checking into a fancy hotel (Who are we kidding?) I suspect that maybe a new suitcase might be in my future, a trusty model with no bells and whistles that can serve me for as long as some of the backpacks did. And maybe there'll be a larger version of it as well, one that serves us if we do decide to shun laundry and check a bag.

In any case, you can guarantee that I'll still be texting my friends my opinion from the check-in line. Some things will never change.

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