Why I Still Travel With One Backpack
It’s not about proving anything. It never has been.
I don’t count ounces. I’m not chasing some medal in minimalism. I carry one backpack because it keeps me honest—about what I actually need, and what I’ve finally learned to let go of.
At first, it wasn’t philosophy. It was just practical. I didn’t want to wait at baggage claim or risk lost luggage. I didn’t want to wrestle a rolling suitcase down cobbled streets or drag it up the steps of a train. But somewhere along the way, that practicality turned into something else. Something deeper.
The less I carried, the lighter I felt.
And not just in my shoulders.
There’s a strange kind of freedom that lives inside limits.
When you can’t bring everything, you make sharper choices. You start thinking about what matters, not just what’s convenient. You make peace with imperfection. You stop packing for every possible scenario and start trusting yourself to handle whatever comes.
That kind of trust becomes confidence. You figure things out on the road. You make do. You discover you’re more capable than you thought—not because you brought everything, but because you didn’t need to.
There’ve been times I’ve nearly missed a train or had to change plans on the fly. Times I arrived in a new city late, with nothing booked, and found a place by walking until I saw a light on. I’ve climbed stairs to top-floor apartments in the rain, tired and carrying everything I brought with me—and still felt grateful to be traveling this way.
It’s not always easy. But it’s always enough.
What’s surprised me most is how little I miss. I don’t miss the second pair of shoes. I don’t miss the “just in case” items. I don’t miss the clutter. And when I come home, I always feel the same small jolt—seeing how much I own, and realizing how little of it I truly use.
This isn’t about going without. It’s about knowing what’s worth carrying.
And what’s not.
I still travel with one backpack. Not because I have to, but because I’ve seen what happens when everything you need fits on your back. You move more freely. You walk with intention. You stop looking down at your stuff and start looking up at the world.
And maybe that’s the real reason I pack the way I do.
Because every time I leave home with less,
I return carrying more of what matters.