Less is More - Why we like to travel slowly
Maria and Aidan originally set off with some grand visions in their heads to ride around the entire world. But they kept finding out about more and more must-see places. Wherever they went, there would be someone telling them about somewhere they just couldn’t miss; and for each place crossed off their list, three more appeared. It soon became clear that several lifetimes would not be long enough to go everywhere and see everything. They had to learn to quench their fear of missing out by making every second count, and ensuring they would experience the places she does manage to visit to the fullest.
And to do that, we had to slow down. Not that Maria’s little Honda NX250 travel bike would go anywhere fast. But we also had to make a conscious decision to stop rushing, always thinking about the next destination, or waiting for the best to come, along the lines of “once we get to that place, then…”. Of course we know about the truth in the rather too-much-quoted cliche that it is about the ride, not the destination. So it was surprising how often we had to remind ourselves of it, and make a concerted effort to truly be present in the moment and soak it all in.
It starts with little things, like pulling over to take a look when something looks interesting. Or stopping at a roadside restaurant for a lunch of local cuisine, when that energy bar at the gas station would have been much quicker and more convenient. We got better at it over time, and when we managed it, the real magic happened. No matter what travel life might throw at us, somehow even the unplanned and unexpected became less stressful. As soon as we let go of the notion that they absolutely must reach the day’s initial destination, even a show-stopping breakdown became just another adventure. We’d simply go with the flow, trusting that in time anything could be sorted out.
Without pressure to rush on, we were free to say yes to anything that came our way, be it a beautiful wild-camping spot tempting us to stay a few days longer than planned, or a spontaneous invitation from a stranger. Often such invitations came out of the blue and in the surprise of the moment, it took deliberate effort to remember to accept. Every time we restrained our knee-jerk reaction to say, “no, we've got to get to…”, we came away with the kind of experiences travel is really about.
In the silver mining town of Parral in Mexico Maria was topping up the engine oil outside a motorcycle shop, when Louis, a mobile motorcycle mechanic, stopped next to us attracted by the many flags on Aidan’s panniers. He got chatting and promptly invited us to his house on the outskirts of town, to cook us some lunch; even though he’d already eaten. He couldn’t wait to show off his shiny new Italika 250Z bike. Too good for work, it was parked safely in his small apartment and only came out when he himself went traveling. The living room cum kitchen was run down and the meal simple, but the company was priceless. We listened to each other’s favourite rock bands, swapped travel stories and his friend popped by to say hi. Louis finally sent us on our way with a little gift for good luck: a couple of trinkets he’d picked up at Chichen Itza. All this totally threw us off schedule and we didn’t reach our planned hotel for the night. But the experience was well worth sacrificing a shower and clean sheets, camping in a stretch of scrawny shrub, just hidden from view of the road, instead.
When we finally reached Ushuaia on our Canada to Argentina trip, it would have been all too easy, to tick that ‘done it’ box and ride straight on to ship home. But we’d been fevering to get there for over two years, so we wanted to make the most of it, exploring the wilderness along the Beagle Channel and taking up a local’s invitation to show us around the lesser-known roads. Dario owned a Honda NX250, like Maria, and reached out, curious to see the one that had arrived all the way from Canada. We had the best time braaping around some disused unpaved roads that we would never have found without his guidance, and we were super happy that we’d made time for the meet-up.
Slowing right down and actually spending a few days really let us get under the skin of a place and experience what it might be like leading a life there, rather than just passing through. When the opportunity came up to house-sit in the little beach town of Hopkins, in Belize, we snatched it up, even though it placed us firmly in the rainy season for the rest of Central America. But who was to say some unforeseen bike trouble would not delay us anyway? We spent a wonderful month becoming friends with some of the permanent residents, hiking to the secret waterfalls, cooking dinner together, and getting to know the owner of our favourite beach bar so well, she greeted us with the same big hug as her family.
In Ecuador we stayed in Montanita, a surf and party town on the beach, for three weeks. The fun family at the fish stall soon learned that we liked a cold beer with our ceviche and sent their son to fetch some from the nearby corner shop as soon as they saw us approaching. The street sellers stopped hustling us, and the owners of a small rock bar at the edge of town started treating us more like friends than like customers. One afternoon Maria stopped to sit at the outdoor table of a small restaurant, and watched the children playing beneath the counter of a shop selling clothes and trinkets. Before long the restaurant’s son picked up the courage to say hello. Chatting away in school English, he asked if he might try out her camera and they spent the afternoon clicking away at life in the little street.
Both Hopkins and Montanita are essentially tourist towns, and most visitors only experience the holiday package. Normally we seek out the quirky places and so-called hidden gems. But it was only when we really stopped for a good long while, that we caught a glimpse of what life is really like behind the scenes, and some of the most profound experiences were had when we slowed right down. Taking such a break also had another much-needed benefit: It cured ‘travel blindness’ - the inability to really see and observe things due to information overload. Speeding from one place to the next would often do that, meaning we could say we had ‘been there, done that’, when really we hadn’t experienced them at all.
All that said, if time is limited, going at speed is better than not going at all. But I would still apply the less is more philosophy and carefully choose which places to squeeze into my time-constrained itinerary. It’s a bit like my friends; I have lots that are more like mere acquaintances, when it comes down to it. But I can count my true friends on one hand. They are the ones I have spent a lot of time with, making memories together.
