The night before leaving I slept at my friend Paul’s flat (thanks Paul!) to be closer to the airport. My flight was at 8:30am but nervous anticipation and the summer sky—light so early—had me out of the door at 5:30am.
I left behind a bag containing the clothes I’d worn the previous day. Everything else I distributed amongst my pockets (3 in my shorts and 2 in my jacket). The experiment had begun.
After two buses, three trains, a flight, and many flights of steps I arrived in Corniglia at 3pm. Plenty enough time to walk every street in the village and go for a swim in the sea.
I had three nights booked in a camera (literally ‘room’) in Corniglia. It was big enough for a single bed, wardrobe, fold-out desk and nothing more. I—yawning before sundown—was only interested in the bed. Days with flights are like that.
Before going to sleep I thought to make the most of the early night. Sunrise would be at 6:30am; I set my alarm for 5:30am. You can do that when you travel by yourself.
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I usually travel with minimal luggage. But in the last couple of years my trips have always involved motorbikes, camping, or cold weather. Each of which need special clothing or equipment.
On this trip, none of those things were a concern. So I thought I’d do an experiment to see just how little it was possible to take.
The premise:
- 5 days and 4 nights in Italy
- No luggage or bags of any kind
- No ‘travel’ clothing, e.g. cargo vests or zip-off convertible trousers
- No buying anything (except food, tickets and accomodation)
Here is everything I took:
Clockwise from top left:
- trainers
- sunglasses
- wallet (space for 4 cards and a few notes)
- clear plastic bag (for airport security)
- contact lenses × 7
- toothbrush (cut down on a bench grinder)
- 25ml toothpaste
- waterproof jacket
- merino wool t-shirt
- merino wool underpants
- swim shorts
- merino wool socks
- headphones
- phone (with Maps.me installed)
- passport
- European socket to USB adapter
- USB to lightning cable
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One issue I had on our Pyrenées trip last year was fuel capacity. The WR250R, stock, only carries 7.6 litres, good for about 90 miles.
I carried an extra 2.5 litres in a jerry can. While it was useful a couple of times it did take up valuable bag space. It also leaked one time more than I wanted it to, which, if you’ve ever tried soaking your clothes in petrol, you’ll know is zero times.
So the first thing I’m doing to prepare for this trip is to give the bike extra range.
The new tank is 13.5L, so should take me over 160 miles (or 250km) before I need to refill.
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When winter’s lifting, I start to think about motorbike trips.
I think about countries; roads and tracks; seas and airports; about the bike I would take and the luggage I’d fix onto it. There are a growing numbers of places that I haven’t been. Not because I dream of visiting them, but because I’ve thought about it then resigned myself not to.
Then I get this email from my uncle:
I’d like to invite you to a celebration of my 70th birthday at the restaurant Comendador Silva, Óbidos, Portugal on the evening of Tuesday 16 August.
An external constraint makes planning a trip easy. It’s harder when the idea comes only from within. You’re more likely to question it.
And so the first few places go onto the map.
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