5 Lessons from My First Backpacking Trip

And why everyone should make at least one

It was 2007. I was 19. Armed with my first paycheck from a part-time bar gig, I remember grabbing my rucksack and making a dash to the closest country to where I was. To escape school, responsibilities, familiar haunts… It had two years since leaving the States and I was itching to explore the wayfarer way.

On my list: Montréal, Trois-Rivières and Quebec City in Canada.

These five takeaways from my first backpacking experience are unabashedly low-maintenance and desirous of human connection unlike mine.

• Solo travel is never alone.
  Precisely because when you’re solo, inhibitions are thrown to the wind. There’s remarkable courage in asking questions, looking stupid, and being able to laugh at yourself. Not only does it engage local folks in conversation, it furthers personal experiences. Sure, there are moments where I found myself alone at many a restaurant, cafe, or street curb, eating, having semi-existential crises. Introspection is a powerful tool to wield during solo trips, but ironically, I always found myself fighting for these.
• Maps are everything.
  Map in hand, you’re the quintessential tourist. No shame, hey. Beyond engendering discovery and scale, they have the ability to fill one with wonder. The insight gleaned from this extra dimension of ‘place’ opens doors to potential experiences that might otherwise be missed. You learn the basics of cartography very quickly and navigate short-cuts like a local.
• Listen to the foreign language. Imitate.
  I grew up around four languages, so learning another might appear easy, but it really isn’t… especially if you’re in a space for a short period. French dominated all of the Province of Quebec. And with pride. You crossed the border and all street signs Google-translated (rather well) to French. There was no time to ease into it. So what do you do? And what have I done since in countries where English was uncommon? Listen — actively. And imitate. I cannot stress this enough. As human beings, we learn quicker if we listen, repeat, the way we hear a local say it. Accent, enunciation, everything. Imitate without abandon. Languages were build to help others understand you. And you, them.
• You do weird things for food — especially if you’re a vegetarian.
  I’d imagined student life would have prepared me for any food situation, but guess not eh. At one hostel in Montreal, I used a coffeemaker to boil sweet potatoes, carrots, and corn. At another, bread was my breakfast bae. But most hosts are sensitive to those with dietary restrictions, but in the off-chance that they aren’t able to accommodate, and you’re stuck in a country that loves its meat, two words: grocery stores. A little creativity goes a looong way.
• Photographs are great — but only if you’re in them.
  My digital world is filled with incredible friends who visit fantastic places — architecturally, culturally, or otherwise. Scores of albums filled with pictures of cathedrals, gardens, landscapes, ruins, local cuisine. All of which are available in all their splendid glory on Nat Geo (and those guys are professionals), Google Image search. You get the picture. No pun intended. More likely than not, none of those pictures have them in it, nor do they have people in it. As a photographer, I have learned that the best travel pictures have you in them or at least people doing something. Places already have a history. Your photographs must be able to tell theirs’.

In the end, traveling over land, solo, is an experience unlike any you read or expect. It pushes you beyond your comfort zone, teaches you a thing or two about people, and forces the stubbornness in you a little something about patience and grit.

Truly, backpacking is an adventure or nothing. It scares you. And that’s why you do do it for the first time and can’t stop at another.