It probably hasn’t escaped your attention that the name of this blog is “Backpacking with Bailey,” so I figured that telling my backpack’s origin story should be a fairly high priority.
Fortunately, I didn’t come up with a name when I first left on my trip. If I’d been so literal back then, the blog would’ve been called “Overloaded Luggage with Bailey.”
I flew out of Australia with a Kathmandu backpack weighing 15kg, which doesn’t seem so bad, but it was the additional suitcase weighing in at over 20 kilograms that flagged me for the travelling novice that I truly was.
When I’d packed my bags, I did so with a focus on taking only the necessities, which at the time consisted of around 30 separate outfits.
I mean, who wouldn’t want to take an outfit for every day of the month…?
Let’s not forget the powerboard I took for the array of Australian appliances that I had buried somewhere in the suitcase.
It begs the understandable question, “Why?”
And fair enough too. Looking back on my not-so-much-younger self embarking on a neverending expedition, it seems laughable that I deemed so much junk as necessary.
My main problem was the lack of a plan.
In the back of my mind I thought I might stay a while in a few places, hence the suitcase, but like any poor decision, the fog of thoughts in my head never coalesced into a coherent strategy.
It took no time whatsoever for me to realise I needed to downsize my luggage. I was staying with a friend in Maastricht and was travelling around Europe using their place as a hub of sorts. I found I was wearing the same five outfits, probably fewer actually, while the others just sat gathering dust.
I shipped 12kg of stuff back home to Australia and donated other items to charity, but when it was time to move on, I was still lugging the now half-full suitcase with me. The futility of doing so became apparent when Maastricht’s cobblestone streets ripped a wheel off its base as I crossed the street to the train station.
On the train, pretty much everyone was staring at me and feeling just as ridiculous as I looked, I resolved to go no further with the now broken case. Yet another large package of gear was thus shipped to Australia and the suitcase was unceremoniously thrown out. My apologies for the landfill contribution.
10 outfits remained, but the now overstuffed backpack was still not the one I carry today. Its utility, or lack thereof, became evident as I turned my travelling attention towards Scandinavia.
The necessities for these cold lands, I felt at the time, included five pairs of pants, a similar number of thermals, heavy outerwear items like my jacket, and 24 pairs of socks (which just accumulated somehow beyond my understanding).
The backpack itself turned out to be more suitcase-like than I would have liked. It had a single compartment, like a suitcase, meaning only items at the very top were accessible, unless, again like a suitcase, it was fully unzipped open on a flat surface.
Effectively, it was a suitcase. Just one with shoulder straps. Facepalm emoji.
By now you’re familiar with what needed to happen. I carried this pack through Denmark, Norway and Sweden, but on my way back to central Europe, I stopped in a Swedish camping store intending to purchase a far more functional item.
In my downtime, I’d researched almost every backpack on the market and by the time I darkened the shop’s door, I was fairly certain I needed (and wanted) a “Borealis,” manufactured by The North Face.
Yes, I had just seen the Aurora Borealis in Norway, but that was pure coincidence.
The backpack did not disappoint! Its 28-litre capacity is not a single compartment like the Kathmandu bag. It has sleeves for laptops and tablets. It has an admin pocket for travel documents. It has tight elastic “bungee” straps to carry jackets and shoes externally. It has two water bottle pockets. It has compression compartments. A padded pocket so my sunnies don’t scratch. And a “quick draw” pocket for a phone!
Before I sound too much like a sales rep for The North Face, or a secret agent, I think the Borealis is designed for students, but I find it to be perfect for any 197-country global traveller who only needs “the necessities” and who likes their stuff to be readily accessible. Quick-drawn even.
A third-and-final shipment of “un-necessities,” including the Kathmandu pack, was shipped back to Australia, and I had a bit of a moment where I felt more like the legitimate traveller I’d originally intended to be.
The Borealis kinda forces you to conserve space and what I carry now is a far cry from the 35 kilogram, 30-outfit gear explosion that I started with.
These days I am down to (pairs as applicable) 5 shirts, 5 socks, 5 underwear, 2 shorts and 1 jeans.
In addition to the cold weather gear and shoes (either worn or strapped to the pack), plus my technology (laptop, phone and GoPro), the 10 kilograms I now carry feels worthy of a reality TV weight loss reveal!
Better yet, the backpack now qualifies as hand luggage on even the stingiest of budget airlines. Shouting out to Ryanair, Wizz Air and easyJet and their awesome excess baggage policies. Love you guys!
That’s about it on the origin of the backpack. It’s enough to say that I absolutely love it.
Get in touch with me on Insta (@baileycoook) if you have any questions about the pack or travel itself.
Also I’d simply encourage anyone and everyone to to get out there and experience what the world has to offer. I consider myself to be an average guy with the only difference being that I headed out the door with an open mind and a willingness to learn. One of those learnings is obviously about luggage!
I’ll be sharing more stories and advice on this blog and Instagram, so stay tuned.
Hopefully our paths cross one day. And if I’ve already met you, hopefully our paths cross again!
