Tottering Under The Pack

Sunday, June 17, 2007 saw Glen and I traipsing off to our second travel gear shopping expedition. As neither my husband nor I are especially enthusiastic shoppers, we have already decided to take our time with buying gear. Items will be researched, tried on multiple times, and reviewed with an eye not just for reasonability of price but also for suitability, serviceability, and projected usefulness.

The current focus of our shopping expeditions is the hunt for The Pack. The Pack is that almighty piece of necessary luggage, the shell in which backpackers turtle their precious few belongings from one destination to another. While I did not expect to find an idea Pack on the first shopping expedition, I didn’t think that there would be so much variation and so much aggravation involved in trying to find one.

There are men’s backpacks and women’s backpacks, day packs and expedition packs and alpine packs and travel packs and hydration packs and book packs. There are cheap packs and expensive packs. There are internal frame packs, external frame packs, soft frame packs, hard frame packs, and frameless packs. Presumably, there is a pack out there that will fit me, and one to fit Glen. Finding them, however, is proving to be something of an experience.

We have been focussing our initial searches around Mountain Equipment Co-Op, a Canadian travel and sports gear shop that is more commonly and fondly known as MEC. Glen and I like the store, their product, and their business policies, so we have been looking forward to getting the majority of our gear there. We also like the fact that there are travel-wise store people wandering around in there who are able to give you advice on topics such as pack fitting.

The first time we went in, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, we centered our search entirely around the expedition pack section, anticipating being won over by the robust suspension systems and dense strap padding. Glen tried on many men’s and unisex packs, while I tried on packs exclusively on the ‘Women’s’ wall. I’m not thrilled to report that there was not a great deal of selection, but to be perfectly fair, there are not a great number of packs manufactured specifically for women.
Let me tell you, ladies, that the make of the shoulder straps on the women’s packs is sheer genius. They come in far enough to give you a snug fit, accommodate shoulders that are usually not as broad as our masculine brethren, and manage to swoop away cleverly at the boob area, giving our girls some space instead of mashing them into uncomfortable new forms. I shall admit, however, that I was not entirely thrilled with the price tag attached to them. It appears that wedding merchandise and women’s pack manufacturers share the same belief that it is acceptable to jack the price up considerably merely because of the specialness of the product. Be that as it may, I am certainly keeping women’s packs in mind on our hunt; I’m just hoping that I can find something that more approaches the cost-effectiveness of the men’s packs.

Alas, there was nary a women’s pack that seemed to fit. Glen was having better luck in the men’s and unisex packs, and I tried on a few of his as well, but the shoulder straps were invariably quite uncomfortable, even with unloaded bags. Eventually one of the shop people found their way over to us – we had been trying packs on for some time – and offered some assistance. He didn’t seem particularly interested or knowledgeable, though, and while some of the advice was good, his suggested packs weren’t exactly what we were looking for.

We decided to load up the two packs he eventually recommended for us with weight sacks and lugged them around the store for a while. This was fun enough on it’s own: MEC has a big bin with bags of varying poundage available for loading packs with, as it is much more realistic to fit a weight-bearing pack than an empty one. Of course, once the pack is loaded up, one’s centre of gravity seems to shift dramatically. Glen took immediate advantage of this and started spinning me around by the pack itself. As I am a naturally clumsy person, I nearly spun right into a rack of packs, but managed to recover. We then spend a few minutes tussling with each other’s packs and trying to use our newly enhanced weight to shove the other off balance.

By the time we stopped our in-store wrestling match and meandered, packs still on backs, over to the shoe section to find Glen a good pair of light hiking shoes, I noticed that it felt as though I had to duck my butt out a considerable degree to support my pack. As I have no intention of wandering around New Zealand sway-backed for twelve months, I groused to Glen about this newfound discomfort. The staff woman manning the shoe section happened to be an avid backpacker, and after showing Glen her shoe recommendations, took us over to a mirror and gave a much more thorough type of pack fitting than her colleague had. After pronouncing Glen’s pack to be well fitted, she looked at mine and tutted reproachfully, then stuck her entire arm in the gap between the pack and the small of my back.

“See this?” she demanded, withdrawing and then re-inserting her arm into the pack-gap several more times. “This is bad! This bag does not fit!” I bit down the urge to reply “Bad! Bad Pack!”

Needless to say, I was quite pleased at having my complaints confirmed by someone who knew what they were talking about. Glen and I finished our pack hunt there for the evening, as I was rapidly getting frustrated at not finding a women’s pack that fit and at having been told that I fit a pack that was so clearly not at all suitable for me. We got several pack recommendations from the shoe lady, got her name for future reference and consultation, and went home.

When we returned again on June 17th, the lady who helped us on our previous trip wasn’t there, but a fellow that Glen’s father recommended as the almighty pack guru was. As our actual intent for this particular trip was getting the shoes that Glen had found on his last visit, we got the shoes first before returning to the Pack Hunt. This time, we looked at the travel packs, while the Guru helped out another couple fit some packs. Again, we went through the loading and toting process.

If I was a more self-conscious person, I would undoubtedly be rather embarrassed by my inability to put on a loaded backpack without some kind of full production. I mentioned earlier that I’m quite uncoordinated, and it is here that it comes through in public demonstration. My attempts to struggle to put a loaded pack onto my back looks something like this:

-Load 35 pounds into the bag (this is the most weight I think I should carry at any point on my trip)
-Attempt to heave pack one-handed onto left shoulder. Drop pack.
-Attempt to heave pack two-handed onto left shoulder. Drop pack.
-Squat down, attempt to put pack onto back in a kneeling position. Drop pack, fall over.
-Rotate squatting position slightly, try again. Lose balance, fall over.
-Pick up pack and place onto the weight back bin, attempt to put left arm through while swinging pack onto back.
-Get arm trapped in the shoulder strap in a chicken-wing position, wedged firmly between the pack and my own body. Squawk in alarm while attempting to heave the pack off my shoulder and back onto the floor.
-Get Glen to hold up the back while I stick both arms through at once. Success!

It isn’t that I’m incapable of lifting 35 pounds. I am actually quite strong and can comfortably toss around a good bit of weight fairly easily. It is that lifting the pack and putting it on in one motion requires a degree of co-ordination that I simply do not possess. It is this inherent clumsiness that once caused me to noose myself in a seatbelt while exiting the back of a car, and it is why it is so much easier just to get Glen to hold up the back while I put the pack on. The Pack Guru did give his customers a demonstration on how to properly put a pack on, and I watched intently. It involves hoisting the pack by the shoulder straps with both hands onto your knee, and then using the knee to support the pack while you sling it onto one shoulder, then putting the free arm through the other strap. I will definitely give it a try, although I suspect that I might chicken-wing myself on the attempt.

After much waiting, the Pack Guru was still occupied with his current customers, and we decided to call it a day. I may have found a pack that fits, the MEC Pangea 60 Travel Pack, which comes complete with zip-away daypack, a feature I really like. Glen found a couple other travel packs that he rather liked. Hopefully, the next time we go back, we can grab hold of the Pack Guru and acquire his pack-fitting wisdom.

For the curious, here is MEC’s advice on Choosing A Backpack, as well as Fitting Your Backpack and for my fellow females, Fitting Packs for Women.

Introduction - Part III: Get Up and Go

Having addressed why it took me so long to accept going on this trip on my own terms, we are brought around to the ‘simple’ aspect of this decision. Simplicity was delivered in the form of a metaphorical kick in the ass. A career opportunity came trotting down my garden path, and as I was certainly professionally and temperamentally qualified for it, I decided that I would apply. Glen and I had been talking about planning our much desired New Zealand excursion, but I wanted to snap up this job opportunity while it was available – an excellent example of the stalling tactics I mentioned in the above paragraph. I thought it very likely that I would at least get an interview, while many of my supporters thought it very likely that I’d get the job; in the end, neither happened.

Furthermore, I was rapidly descending into a funk brought on by the housing crisis in my hometown. Thanks largely to the oil boom and sudden economic growth spurt, housing costs in Edmonton, Alberta were rising at what felt like exponential rates. Despite my reasonable income, Glen and I were looking at having to transition from the house we were renting from my brother while he was working in Germany to an apartment or basement suite that would cost us around double what we were currently paying. The idea of attempting to negotiate a housing market that would not allow us to save or plan for the future in a reasonable manner was depressing, and as I am a worrywart about money, I found myself dwelling on this unfortunate business quite frequently.

After experiencing such a high level of frustration over my own apathy that I was practically in tears, my brain snapped into gear. I was putting off both mine and my husband’s life goals because of unreasonable levels of finance-related fear, and we no longer wanted to live in a city that was rapidly becoming one of the most expensive living locations in Canada. I had simply had enough. It was time to go, and I told Glen that I wanted to go in September.

Bear in mind that while many of the sentiments that had led to the desire to leave behind reality for a year had been boiling up for some time, I arrived at the point where I had mentally accepted the trip was very, very sudden. Going from being interested in the possibility of stalling a New Zealand trip and actually hammering out a firm time of departure was quite literally a matter of hours. I didn’t need to slowly convince myself that it was time Glen and I put our desires into practice. Fortunately, circumstance did all the convincing for me. While it took me several more weeks to get over my money-related worries, resolving not to let fear get the better of me and commit to going happened with what seemed to be a crack of a whip. It is time; time for us to move on, time to take a plunge, time to take risks, time to have our adventure.

Now that this somewhat self-indulgent (and admittedly rather whiny) introduction to the circumstances leading up to our trip is over, I would like to thank those who have had the patience to read it. Let’s start having some fun!

Introduction - Part II: Stalling Tactics

Making the decision to leave for a year presented an interesting paradox – it was at once one of the hardest and simplest decisions I’ve made. Now granted, I was not the only one involved in this decision – Glen, of course, was similarly involved in this. But decisions are not only made in practise, but must also be made in one’s own head; if the resolution is not made in the head, then stalling tactics will be employed to great effect.

Fear is the primary motivation for stalling, and unfortunately I am not exactly the bravest person in the world. It isn’t the idea of being in a strange place among strange people that frightens me, but rather the idea of the financial instability of such a trip. It is in my nature to save rather than spend, and while I’m no miser, I like having a decently sized emergency cushion. Not knowing where the next paycheque is coming from is the height of anxiety. This is not a new fear – throughout childhood I was inordinately and unreasonably anxious about family finances. I’ve no idea where these fears originated, as I had no reason to think that we were headed to the poorhouse and my parents taught me good money management. Dealing with this tendency towards worry-warting over financial matters is one of my goals for this trip. I won't let money fears prevent me from going, and I am determined to get a grip on this ridiculous behaviour.

Glen and I are in a suprisingly good situation for this trip. We are not bogged down by any debt, we have saved for a trip such as this, and I have already made my registered retirement savings plan contribution for the year. We are also going to be acquiring a work visa and picking up what jobs we come across, and are looking forward to everything from fruit picking to physical labour to possibly finding work in our professional fields. Costs will be further cut down through some participation in work exchanged for room and board programs. Either way, we will be earning funds and participating in work exchange while travelling, and therefore should not need to eat into our regular accounts to supplement the travel budget we have established. We will not be returning destitute to Canada; we are ready and able to practise some strict budgeting once we get back and begin re-establishing our regular work lives.

Yet with all these provisions, the financial insecurity still terrifies me. The idea of putting off my career development for a full year is appalling. These sentiments, however, are utterly ridiculous as they are unfounded and verge on illogical paranoia. As illogical as they are, however, they present a very convenient method for stalling any sort of decision that involves taking the slightest bit of financial or career-related risk. Unfortunately, the consistent refusal of any sort of venture that may involve a financial or career risk means that good opportunities are passed by or lost altogether. I’m tired of allowing my insecurities to hold my husband and I back. I might be afraid of what going to New Zealand could potentially do to my bank account, but I’m going all the same – and I’m going to get over my fears.

Introduction - Part I: Over the Edge

Travel is not an uncommon interest. “I like to travel,” people say, and then usually follow up the statement with a list of places they have gone, the places they would like to go to, and the means by which they have travelled or would like to travel. I’ve had travelling listed as an interest on many of my online personae. And every time I included that term in my profiles, I’ve felt as though I was lying, just a little.

This uncomfortable sense of deception is due to the fact that I have done very little travelling in my short life, and none of it is what I would consider “serious” travel. Certainly, I’ve been to locales other than my hometown in Alberta, Canada – a few days in Las Vegas with my parents, an Alaskan cruise, a school trip to Quebec when I was in middle school, ski excursions, and visiting in-laws in Ontario, among other things. Of course, I must include the penchant my husband and I have for road trips. We have been exploring around the Rocky Mountains in summer and winter, taken road trips to the west coast of Canada, and had a memorable bus-ferried jaunt around Portland, Oregon.

These trips, however, do not fall into the realm of serious travel. For us, travel has generally consisted of relatively short excursions, most taken in childhood when we still enjoyed the luxury of having our expenses covered by our parents. Now that we are all grown up, we have swapped parent-chaperoned trips for mooching lodging off of our out-of-town friends. While I always enjoy any sort of travel holiday immensely, I don’t exactly equate my little trips with the sort of backpack toting pilgrims who make travel a large part of their life for a significant portion of time. When my husband and I sacrifice our feather top mattress and down duvet for a hotel mattress and duvet, (or a friend’s inflatable bed and kitchen facilities) we aren’t exactly drowning ourselves in the experience of travel. Rather, we’re indulging in a sanitized, watered-down version of it. Luxury travel is enjoyable, yes, but doesn’t challenge. Those who know me know I enjoy certain amount of challenge – it keeps my brain functioning at reasonable speeds.

The above missive may have given the impression that Glen and I have to date accepted nothing but the finest that holidaying may offer. Although the image of the indulgent silk-wrapped travellers suddenly exchanging their seaweed wraps for blistered feet and backpacks with chest straps would make for a far more amusing read, such is not the case. We may have not trekked across an unknown country yet, but we have travelled on the cheap and enjoyed every minute of it. We like hostels quite a bit, prefer buying our food in markets to eating in restaurants, and have a particular fondness for using my little Pontiac Sunfire as our mobile bunk. Once you drop down the car’s back seats, it can fit the pair of us quite nicely provided that we sleep at a slight diagonal, with our heads by the front seats and our feet in the trunk. Keep in mind that as I am a bit over 5’8” and my dear husband is 6’2” with a body that pumps out heat at the same rate as a coal burner; getting out of the car and scraping the accumulated fog and steam off the inside of the windows can be a stiff, awkward endeavour.

So we have travelled on the cheap, we have travelled on the fly. We have never travelled long-haul. We have never completely uprooted ourselves and lived away from the comforts of family and old friends. We’ve played around with the idea of adventure, but have never actually had one. That is about to change. We have made the decision that, barring the unlikely event that Glen should land a dream job in the next few weeks, we will be leaving in September for New Zealand and are planning on remaining there for the upcoming year. In order to fuel this exodus and not be completely destitute when we return, we shall be applying for Working Holiday visas so that we may earn a few coins while there. We are hoping to find work in our respective fields – I am a librarian with an accredited Master’s degree, and Glen is a graphic designer and developing sculptor. Being able to further our careers in a different country is quite an exciting prospect for both of us, and we would like to take advantage of it while we have the opportunity.

However, the availability of career-type work will not be a determining factor as to whether or not we go. We’re looking forward to doing sheer grunt work as well – picking fruit, tending vineyards, pushing cattle, bartending and waiting tables – in order to add to our travel budget. Such work is part of the backpacking experience, and I truthfully don’t think that either of us would be entirely satisfied if we did not shred our hands on at least a few fruit trees. Grunt work is part of any really good adventure.

At this point in time, we are in the planning phase. We will be applying for passports within the next couple of weeks and likewise applying for visas as soon as we get our passports. While I had been planning on establishing a travel blog to record our actual travel time, it occurred to me that the preparation is playing a significant role in this entire experience. Any sort of travel begins with the necessary preparation, which is proving to be a sufficient enough head-spinner for me to want to document it. The adage that every journey begins with a single step is very true, but you still need to get your shoes and water bottle first.