How to pack light
As airlines and airports struggle with the volume of passengers and their luggage, it’s wise to pack light.
Flying long-haul is a mess. Airlines and airports are struggling with the volume of passengers and their luggage. Pictures out of London’s Heathrow Airport show suitcases piled into indoor mountains. The airport has also introduced daily passenger caps to try to cope with the northern summer’s travel onslaught. Some passengers, terrified of never seeing their belongings again, are buying AirTags so they can track their bags if they don’t touch down with them at their destination.
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Yet there’s a simpler solution. Fly carry-on only. This is how I’ve travelled for years and now I can’t imagine lugging around a suitcase (unless I’m headed to a polar ice cap) or waiting impatiently at a baggage carousel. I have a roll-away bag – much like a daypack on wheels – that usually weighs in at about 7kg. “So tell me exactly what you put in there,” a friend asked
recently, trying to figure out if she could emulate my packing skills. “I want to know every single item.”
I start with the smalls: three pairs of underwear, three pairs of socks. She baulks right there. It’s a hard “no” from her to doing laundry in a hotel sink while on holiday. Yet I embrace the ritual, finding it a small, soothing, familiar thing that’s the same whether you’re in the Bahamas, Bangkok or Budapest. Then swimmers (always; you never know when you’ll encounter an inviting body of water), a T-shirt (two if I’m feeling extravagant), a colourful long-sleeved cotton shirt for warding off the sun’s rays, trackie-daks and comfy shirt (my pyjama combo), umbrella (unless it’s the Kimberley in the dry or a desert destination), water bottle, two dresses (with bodices tight enough to eliminate the need for additional support), two sports bras, sparkly sandals and a toiletries bag containing two make-up pencils, tweezers, comb, sunscreen, deodorant, toothbrush and miniature toothpastes. I pull up the bag’s handle, attach a neck pillow and – voila – I’m done. (I also leave jewellery at home so I never have to worry about forgetting it on a bathroom sink.)
I had to conquer the feeling I should appear in a different outfit each day
Of course, I’m already wearing a significant chunk of my travelling wardrobe when I head to the airport. I’m usually decked out in a pair of lightweight, wrinkle-proof black trousers shirred at the ankle, a Uniqlo ultralight long down coat, a three-quarter-sleeve black top, pink pashmina and flat ankle boots. Travel documents, laptop, camera, adaptor and chargers all go into my admittedly fairly capacious handbag.
It took many trips to learn my packing lessons. I always thought, for instance, I should take a novel yet rarely found time to turn a page. Jeans seemed essential but it turns out they’re not. I also had to conquer the feeling I should appear in a different outfit each day.
Sometimes, I toss in something extra (then usually wonder why). This was the case recently when I added a white cotton shirt for covering up while visiting Qatar. I already had shirts to cover my shoulders. It came in handy, however, when it turned out a travel companion hadn’t packed a modest shirt into her very big bag. As strange as it seemed, I whipped out the item from my tiny bag and lent it to her.
My lack of checkable luggage sometimes shocks even airport check-in staff. At Johannesburg’s O.R. Tambo International Airport this year, the woman behind the counter remarked that it must be stressful to travel with so little. I assured her it’s the opposite; I always know exactly where my belongings are.
There are one or two minuses to travelling this way. I can’t, for instance, transport a new favourite bottle of wine in my carry-on. It also limits shopping, although after decades of souvenir-buying, I’m pleased about that.
These issues are so minor they barely count. Travelling like this makes me feel so unburdened it’s like I’ve grown wings. I could almost ditch that plane altogether.