On the morning we started the Inca trail, there was a requisite weigh in. I came in at 14 pounds. One pound under. I had a certain pride in my sacrifices.
We were told we could only pack 15 pounds in our duffle. We wouldn’t be carrying our own duffles but relying on porters or sherpas as they’re called in Nepal or in other corners of the world.
It was a challenge but the porters are protected by law and only allowed to carry 35 kilos or approx 60 pounds.
The 15 lbs was personal gear— clothes for five days and four nights. Toothbrush, toothpaste etc. underwear. Rain gear. Jackets for cold high elevation weather.
Since there was downtime I had two books. As I packed with weight limits in mind, I took out one book and then the other. I had an extra pair of shoes for camp since I knew I wouldn’t be in love with by boots after hiking in them all day. They are my best friends and worst enemies. I took them out too.
As I kept thinking about the porter who’d carry my duffle, I kept eliminating “necessities.” It was easy when I thought of my luxuries being a burden.
The first time I learned to deal with as little as possible was a three week trip that began in Hawaii and ended in India. I was allowed only a carryon. It was stuffed and allowed for no purchases. My frugality was difficult when I had an unexpected canceled flight in South Korea where the temperatures were freezing in January. The layover was unexpected and KAL apologized. I received two nights in a luxury hotel and they gave me a blanket to stave off the cold. I had only packed clothes appropriate for equater weather.
At this point I quit thinking of myself— my pack— my packing abilities, and when the porters passed us with packs bigger than themselves I was incredibly grateful for their strength. I felt guilty for my 14 pounds of personal conveniences and necessities. Watching them pass me on the trail with bent over backs and sweaty faces, I felt extremely grateful for someone who would carry my burden on their back.
Later when we are asked to say something to the porters and Miguel will translate, I begin to say how much I enjoyed hearing their laughter- but I can’t finish cause my voice cracks. I wasn’t prepared for the unexpected emotion. Miguel tears up too.
I later understood that their laughter was a relief. Because they worked so hard but they were still happy. Working so hard for me.
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