DON'T OVERPLAN.
At sunrise, it's not necessary, or even desirable, to know where you are going to be at sunset. In sparsely inhabited areas carry a lightweight tent and sleeping bag. Elsewhere, rely on fate to provide shelter: dependence on those you meet en route greatly enhances escapism, and villagers are unfailingly hospitable to those who trust them. I have been welcomed into villagers' homes everywhere I've cycled or walked, and was always grateful for what was typically a space on the floor. "Trust" is a key word for relaxed traveling among people whose different way of life may demand adaptability but should prompt no unease or suspicion.
BE SELF-PROPELLED, OR BUY A PACK ANIMAL.
For long treks far from roads and towns, buy a pack animal to carry food, camping gear, kerosene for your stove if firewood is scarce — and of course your child, should he or she be too small to walk all day.
When organizing such a trek, allow for spending a week or ten days at your starting point, inquiring about the best source of pack animals. Take care to find a reliable adviser as well as a horse trader — preferably an adviser unconnected to the trader. In Ethiopia in 1966, I was lucky to be advised by Princess Aida, granddaughter of the then emperor, Haile Selassie, and half a dozen mules were paraded around the courtyard of a royal palace for my inspection. A decade or so later, in Baltistan, I bought a retired polo pony to carry Rachel, my six-year-old daughter, and our camping gear and supplies, including two sacks of flour, because in midwinter in the Karakorum, the villagers have no spare food. In Peru, as a nine-year-old, Rachel rode a mule named Juana for the first six hundred miles from Cajamarca, but a fodder shortage necessitated her walking the remaining nine hundred miles to Cuzco: poor Juana had become so debilitated that she could carry only our gear.
It's important to travel light. At least 75 percent of the equipment sold nowadays in camping shops — travel clotheslines, roll-up camping mats, lightweight hair dryers — is superfluous. My primary basics, although it depends on the journey, are a lightweight tent, a sleeping bag suitable for the country's climate, and a portable stove.
IF ASSISTED BY A PACK ANIMAL, GET DETAILED LOCAL ADVICE ABOUT THE TERRAIN AHEAD.
And remember, a campsite suitable for you may be a disaster area for a hungry horse or mule. Then you must press on, often to a site hardly fit for humans but providing adequate grazing. People can do the mind-over-matter bit, and resolve never again to let supplies run so low, but an equine helper doesn't have that sort of mind. If there's no fodder at six P.M., the mule cannot have consoling thoughts about stuffing it in at six P.M. the next day. And there is nothing more guilt-provoking than seeing a pack animal who has worked hard for you all day going without sustenance.
CYBERSPACE INTERCOURSE VITIATES GENUINE ESCAPISM. Abandon your mobile phone, laptop, iPod, and all such links to family, friends, and work colleagues. Concentrate on where you are and derive your entertainment from immediate stimuli, the tangible world around you. Increasingly, in hostels and guesthouses one sees "independent" travelers eagerly settling down in front of computers instead of conversing with fellow travelers. They seem only partially "abroad," unable to cut their links with home. Evidently the nanny state — and the concomitant trend among parents to overprotect offspring — has alarmingly diminished the younger generation's self-reliance. And who is to blame for this entrapment in cyberspace? The fussy folk back at base, awaiting the daily (or twice daily) e-mail of reassurance.
DON'T BE INHIBITED BY THE LANGUAGE BARRIER.
Although ignorance of the local language thwarts exchanges of ideas, it's unimportant on a practical level. I've wandered around four continents using only English and a few courtesy phrases of Tibetan, Amharic, Quechua, Albanian, or whatever. Our basic needs — sleeping, eating, drinking — can always be indicated by signs or globally understood noises.
Even on the emotional level, the language barrier is quite porous. People's features, particularly their eyes, are wonderfully eloquent. In our everyday lives, the extent to which we wordlessly communicate is taken for granted. In "far-flungery," where nobody within a hundred miles speaks a word of any European language, one fully appreciates the range of moods and subtle feelings that may be conveyed visually.
BE CAUTIOUS — BUT NOT TIMID.
The assumption that only brave or reckless people undertake solo journeys off the beaten track is without foundation. In fact, escapists are ultracautious: that's one of their hallmarks and an essential component of their survival mechanisms. Before departure, they suss out likely dangers and either change their route — should these seem excessive — or prepare to deal with any reasonable hazards.
Granted, there's a temperamental issue here: is a bottle half empty or half full? Why should your bones break abroad rather than at home? Optimists don't believe in disasters until they happen, and therefore are not fearful, which is the opposite of being brave.
INVEST IN THE BEST AVAILABLE MAPS.
And whatever you do, don't forget your compass.
5. Travelers on Their Own Books
THE WRITING OF A TRAVEL BOOK IS, LIKE THE trip itself, a conscious decision, requiring a gift for description, an ear for dialogue, a great deal of patience, and the stomach for retracing one's steps. It is very different from fiction, the inner journey, which is an imaginative process of discovery. In the travel book, the writer knows exactly how the story will end; there are no surprises. The privations of the road become the privations of the desk. Because the travel book is a recounting of the journey, there is always the chance that the traveler will embroider, for effect or merely to stay awake. ¶ In a fit of candor or self-consciousness, many travel writers have felt the need to explain how or why they wrote their books, and in doing so they reveal a great deal about themselves. Here are some travelers reflecting on their work.
HENRY FIELDING: "IGNORANT, UNLEARNED, AND FRESH-WATER CRITICS"
Now from both these faults [plagiarism and hyperbole] we have endeavoured to steer clear in the following narrative: which, however the contrary may be insinuated by ignorant, unlearned, and fresh-water critics, who have never traveled either in books or ships, I do solemnly declare doth, in my own impartial opinion, deviate less from truth than any other voyage extant; my lord Anson's alone being, perhaps, excepted.
— Voyage to Lisbon (1755)
SAMUEL JOHNSON: AN HOUR SPENT HATCHING THE IDEA OF A BOOK
I sat down on a bank, such as a writer of Romance might have delighted to feign. I had indeed no trees to whisper over my head, but a clear rivulet streamed at my feet. The day was calm, the air soft, and all was rudeness, silence, and solitude. Before me, and on either side, were high hills, which by hindering the eye from ranging, forced the mind to find entertainment for itself. Whether I spent the hour well I know not; for here I first conceived the thought of this book.